Smoking can lead to premature death

Addiction and Recovery

By Bob Gaydos

“The cigarette is a very efficient and highly engineered drug-delivery system.”

      The sentence appears on the web site of the National Institute on Drug Abuse. With its sheer bluntness, it says all you need to know about why more than 50 million Americans smoked a cigarette last month despite massive campaigns detailing the health risks of smoking, despite the fact that many of those risks are printed right on the cigarette pack, despite restrictions on smoking in public areas, and even despite the increasingly high cost of smoking because of taxes placed on tobacco products.

     Nicotine delivers endorphins, euphoria, dopamine to the brain with each puff on the cigarette. A pack a day is about 200 “hits” of good feeling. Stop puffing, it goes away. The brain doesn’t like the change in mood. Withdrawal can be unpleasant.

     “Cigarette smoking harms nearly every organ in the body, and smoking is the leading preventable cause of premature death in the United States.”

    That sentence also appears on the NIDA web site (www.drugabuse.gov) and the two statements taken together are why it’s important not to ignore the addiction health threats staring us in the face — or assaulting the senses of non-smokers — amidst the daily serving of headlines on drunk drivers and drug overdoses. 

    Nearly half a million deaths annually are still attributed to smoking and, despite significant progress in reducing the number of smokers, according to NIDA, “if current smoking rates continue, 5.6 million Americans who are currently younger than 18 will die prematurely from smoking-related disease.”

    Nicotine is addictive. Smoking kills people before their time. 

And yes, a lot of people have gotten the message. Surveys show smoking rates for people 18 and older continue to go down and the rate of smoking among those under 18 is at historically low levels. That latter is key because tobacco is often the first substance adolescents use to emulate adults and often leads to other substance use disorders. Research also suggests that nicotine has a strong impact on still-developing adolescent brains, making it more difficult for those who want to quit when they are older. And nearly everyone who smokes has tried to quit. Some succeed. Some have a hard time.

   The jury is still out on e-cigarettes as a replacement for cigarettes. They remove the chemicals that, when burned, are responsible for the various health risks attribute to cigarettes, leaving vapers to go for the nicotine rush. But some research suggests other possible risks, especially for young users, so it’s buyer beware.

    Significantly, for the focus of this column, research shows a strong connection between smoking and persons with alcohol or other substance dependence and a prevalence of smoking (65 to 85 percent) among persons in treatment for all substance use disorders. Addictions often go together, but quitting one doesn’t always mean quitting others is easier. The next column will report on what some people with alcohol or other substance use disorders have experienced as they tried to quit smoking.

Bob Gaydos is a freelance writer. rjgaydos@gmail.com

I finally got to Woodstock. Peace.

By Bob Gaydos

Turning on the lights at the Woodstock 50 celebration.

By the time I got to Woodstock, I was 78 years old and walking with a cane. I fit right in.

And it was fun.

Unlike the ill-fated Woodstock 50 concert that was apparently planned with the same “whatever-I-think-of-next” model Michael Lang used 50 years ago, the Woodstock 50 celebration at Bethel Woods, site of the original festival in 1969, was a well-organized, enjoyable tribute that attracted fans of all ages, although it definitely trended geriatric. The gray-haired easily outnumbered the tie-dyed, although some were both.

I missed the original festival of peace and love, even though I was within striking distance, working as city editor for The Sun-Bulletin in Binghamton at the time. It was about an hours’ drive away and I’ve kind of regretted the missed opportunity as the Woodstock mystique grew. As I vaguely recall, we didn’t think it was worth the time (and money) to send someone to a hippie fest on a farm for three days.

Anyhow, the Middletown paper had it covered and, as the fates would have it, I wound up working for that paper (for 29 years), living and retiring in Sullivan County, not far from Bethel and Yasgur’s farm and available as an emergency fill-in for a friend with an extra ticket who called and said, “Want to see Santana at Bethel Saturday?”

Which is a run-on sentence on how I got to Woodstock.

I said yes. Honestly, not because I’m a big Santana fan, but because of the history and the quiet hope that it would be an event to remember in the spirit of the original. It was

The Doobie Brothers as an opening act did a great job of loosening the crowd of 15,000. Women danced, beach balls bounced, the Doobies rocked and everyone sang. The early rain stopped, the later lightning went away. No rain.

Also no arguing. No loud drunks. No fights. A faint aroma of pot from time to time. “A mellow Woodstock,” a tie-dyed Social Security recipient strolling by said to no in particular.

Which was what I was hoping for. We are not a mellow nation at the moment. Nor were we 50 years ago when nearly half a million mostly young, many stoned individuals brought traffic to a standstill, then enjoyed and eventually survived an utterly unprepared event thanks to the kindness of countless strangers. Peace and love.

It’s what Santana talked about when he come to the front of the stage to welcome the crowd: “Unconditional love. Compassion. Peace.”

That’s what this anniversary concert was about, he said, and in my mind I agreed with him that, at least that’s what this concert ought to be about.

He had only gotten a few bars into “Turn Your Lights On,” when the hillside came alive with thousands of swaying lights, as cell phones added a new dimension to the song, which for me had a message of hope for trying times: “There's a monster living under my bed, whispering in my ear.” But also: "There's an angel with a hand on my head. She says I've got nothing to fear.” I used to doubt angels. 

The moment was special, but it was his version of John Lennon’s “Imagine” that cinched the deal for me:

“You may say that I'm a dreamer 

But I'm not the only one 

I hope someday you'll join us 

And the world will be as one ...”

The words came easily and knowingly from thousands of voices, young and old, across the Bethel landscape and I uttered a silent, “Please” to myself.

Santana rocked on quite a bit longer, there was more dancing and there were fireworks to seal the deal, but my (good!) friend and I left early, more than satisfied with Woodstock’s golden birthday. Many others came early and stayed late, also happy to have been there. The people who run Bethel Woods had the event planned to the smallest detail. Traffic control, the biggest concern, was no problem.

Also no anger. No fighting. No name-calling. Just music, dancing, singing, peace, love and respect for all, for one night at least, on a hillside in Upstate New York. Just what I hoped it would be. Sure, you may say I’m a dreamer, but I did finally get to Woodstock.

Bob Gaydos is a freelance writer. rjgaydos@gmail.com