by Marcus Emery

Created on: March 10, 2009

The Wonder Worker

Not being a medical professional, I cannot give a "scientific" account of what happens to the body when one stops smoking. But I am qualified by life experience to tell what welciome changes happened to me.

For fourteen years I was chained. That is, I chain-smoked, during all my waking hours. My fingers were yellowed, my breath was foul, and I only realized later that my clothes, quarters, and very presence carried a repelling odor. Only by the grace of God had I not been incinerated in bed; for I lit up even as I was waking up. The addiction controlled my life to a degree I only could assess in hindsight. As surely as any helot, I was enslaved.

What set me free? I had "quit" numerous times. Restart was never more than twenty-four hours away. Motivation was simply not present. But when I took on the management of a lodge for the winter season; and was allowed only one employee, things changed. Good help was hard to find; as it has been since Adam's day. I would ask around, for the situation demanded a wonder worker. The first person to whom I mentioned my need told me she had a friend who was guaranteed to fill the bill. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I called the friend. Oh yes, she'd be glad to give it a try, as her friend had mentioned I might be calling. Could she start work Monday? Affirmative.

Twenty-two rooms, a kitchen, dining room, laundry, and front office; plenty to do, diverse tasks. The new girl was up to the task, all day Monday until after dark. Same thing Tuesday, ready, willing, never complaining. But she did mention, as she was leaving, that my smoking bothered her greatly. "Oh, I will cut down on it, promise!"

Seldom does one find a partner who is 'hand in glove' at every task, too tactful to even criricize any of your faults, indefatigable, always cheerful. Wednseday went swimmingly, Thursday also. Except for the pronouncement, "Tomorrow is my last day."

"Why?"

"The smoking. I told you I can't take it."

"But I've cut down, like I said I would."

"No, you just think you have."

Time to face the facts: Yellow fingers and mediocre help or the Wonder Worker? I crawled. "You come to work tomorrow and I will not smoke until you leave."

"We'll see."

Mankind is driven by desires. I went twelve hours Friday without a coffin nail. Would she come in Monday? Well, yes, though she knew it was hard for me to abstain. By Monday, I had my habit abated for two more days, and logic told me that it could go up in smoke for good. For about a dozen years thereafter, I hankered for that next cigarette, but never smoked it. Finally, the day arrived when even the smell of smoking repelled me. What happened to my body? Many things. I began to sleep through nights, my breath didn't shorten as I climbed the steeps. While I may never become calm, cool and collected; I am less the bundle of nerves I was back then.

Most rewarding is this: my body is still alive. The odds were against this result, if it had not been for the arrival of the Wonder Worker. Yes, she did return on Monday, never mentioning my filthy habit during the rest of her days as an employee, which only ended when my tenure did. She was the sort who does a body good.

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