by Matt Barry, Senior Policy Analyst

“I’m very frightened and guilt ridden. I might have to pay painful dues for my smoking addiction. The painful part that I have to deal with though is the suffering this will cause Pauline and the boys; suffering which I could have prevented.

Help me God to be honest and straightforward with them. And please dear God make them forgiving of my stupidity.

For today, my biggest prayer is that the test results will not be that bad and that whatever the problem is, it can be treated. Lord hear my prayer.”

These were the words my father, Brian Barry, wrote in his diary 10 years ago the night before he received the test results that confirmed he had lung cancer. A smoker since his early teens, my father had tried quitting smoking countless times – sometimes for months at a time but always returning to the addiction he ultimately could not resist. My father was an educated and professional man who knew that smoking was bad for him but he could never quit. Begging and pleading from his children, hand scribbled charts and graphs on the refrigerator from my brothers and I showing how much he spent on cigarettes every year, being forced to smoke outside by my mother and not around the kids, nothing helped him break the grip of his addiction to cigarettes. Even a diagnosis of lung cancer, and then surgery which resulted in the removal of half a lung and six ribs, couldn’t shake his addiction as he resumed smoking within two years of his surgery.

Somehow, following the surgery, he remained in remission for more than 5 years and “beat the odds” by surviving lung cancer. But he hid, or tried to hide, his post-surgery smoking from his family. But we knew. And we all suspected that he would ultimately die of some tobacco-caused disease.

For many years I blamed my father for his “weakness” and inability to stop smoking. It wasn’t until I worked at the Campaign and studied nicotine and its addictive properties that I came to fully appreciate how difficult a task my father was faced with and how he never had the support he truly needed - of doctors, of insurance and drug companies (in addition to family and friends). He never had the tools to truly help him quit and stay quit.

We need to remember that there is a human being at the end of every cigarette – a father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a friend, a neighbor, or even a complete stranger. Smokers are people and we can’t forget that. We owe people like my Dad, who wanted to quit but who felt trapped by his addiction and who felt that his inability to quit was somehow a reflection on his character, every chance possible to succeed. The reality is that quitting is all about nicotine and its power to addict, which is stronger than heroine or cocaine.

In the end, however, it wasn’t tobacco that killed my Dad but a drunk driver. And among the personal effects of my Dad’s that my brothers and I picked up from the police after his death were – his wallet, some chewing gum … and a lighter and a pack of Salem 100s.

My Dad wanted and needed help. He didn’t get it. I’m here to fight to make sure that doesn’t happen to anyone else who wants to quit.