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whumpingcrow · 3 years

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Pt.15 "Torture Abroad"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, divorce mention, parent death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, foster care, beach setting, noncon/dubcon (explicit, 18+), general NSFW and sexual themes/language, broken bone mention, stockholm syndrome-type themes, self injury mention, bat used as a weapon, injury/gore (explicit), knife mention, taser mention, bondage/chains, torture with a bunch of different weapons, bystander watching torture, hallucinations, fire mention, panic attack, tics/tourettes (let me know if I missed anything!!)

"You're going to love it here," August was saying, one of his hands wrapped lazily around the wheel and the other placed on Elias's thigh, "I'm gonna show you so many beautiful places."

Elias was looking out the window at all the deep green trees and lush scenery, in utter disbelief that he was actually here. "You're really from here?"

"Yeah, after my parents got divorced my mom took me to America. I come back all the time though." He turned and smiled at Elias, squeezing his thigh gently. "Beautiful, isn't it? I'll have to teach you some French."

Elias nodded in agreement at the suggestion. "I cannot believe I'm in France." With literal Satan, he thought, then shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The car was nice, a deep red that Elias thought fit August well enough. It was something fancy and foreign, and August had laughed at his surprised face when he walked right up to it in the parking garage of the airport. At first, Elias thought he was going to steal it, but then August had the keys in his hand and inside of the car was a wallet that had one of his older licenses in it. Elias noticed that he drove it with ease, like it was where he belonged, behind the expensive leather wheel, driving much quicker than he probably should be on the winding roads. For a moment, he found himself thinking about how attractive it was, and the realization made him incredibly ashamed in himself, so embarrassed and disgusted that he felt physically sick at it.

They drove for awhile longer, then they arrived at a huge house on the side of a hill, overlooking a beach. When Elias stepped out of the car the chill breeze swept through his clothes and hair, and he took a deep breath. It was beautiful, and he guessed that if he had to be anywhere with August, it may as well be here.

He jumped as August grabbed him from behind, looping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. He placed gentle kisses against his neck, humming with content. "I'm so happy you're here, angel."

Elias sighed and tipped his head back against August's shoulder. "It's so pretty," he breathed, "just... breathtaking."

August chuckled and pulled off of him. "Come on, we'll go sight seeing later," he teased, taking his hand and pulling him down the drive to the house.

It was even more beautiful on the inside; there were large, open windows that the sunlight danced through and soaked over everything it landed on, intricate designs carved and painted on the ceiling and walls, and huge, exquisite paintings that were probably more expensive than everything Elias owned combined.

"This is your house?" He asked August, who was already making himself busy opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen. Elias could see from his spot in the middle of the living room that the kitchen was just as glamorous.

"It was my father's, yeah. He left it to my sister and I after he died. Maybe you'll get to meet her, if she comes around." His voice was lightly conversational, like he was talking about the weather and not his dead dad, but really Elias would have been more surprised if he'd let any emotion into the sentence.

Elias took the wine glass as it was handed to him, looking down at the dark red with his lip caught in his teeth. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, cueing August to frown at him. "What is it?" He asked.

"It's just... I dunno, my whole life I was just tossed around foster homes and group homes and this...this is something I never would have thought would happen." He laughed again, shaking his head. "I mean, I'm drinking wine in France. It's just weird."

August nodded his head, looking thoughtful before finally saying, "I didn't know you were a foster kid."

Elias shook his head, instantly wanting to change the subject. August had seen him crying, begging, screaming, bleeding, August had seen him dead, but talking about his past with him seemed way more vulnerable than all of that. He didn't want August to know about his selfish parents who decided that they loved drugs more than they loved their twitchy son, he didn't want him to know that Elias didn't have any friends until he was in high school because he moved foster homes and schools faster than he could blink, he really didn't want him to know about the way he used to stay up late trying to find his parents online so he could try and contact them, try to convince them to take him back, and cry when he couldn't find them. August had control over him in so many ways, and Elias was going to make sure that touchy, personal information was kept that way. August would never know him that intimately, if he could help it.

He tasted the wine, trying to stay in the moment. He focused on the lush fruitiness of the drink instead of the looming fear of being alone with August. He focused on the way the light illuminated some of the dust floating around the room instead of the despair he felt about being away from Tyson.

"Do you wanna walk down to the beach?" August asked him, stepping closer to him as he spoke. "It'll be dark soon, we can watch the sun set."

Elias smiled at him, drinking some more wine. He wished it was something stronger, being sober around August was just so unbearably frightening. "I never would've pegged you as a romantic," he chuckled, "this wine must be strong, huh?"

August shook his head, taking Elias's wine glass from him and setting them both down on the side table next to the couch. "I've just been too stressed out to be romantic." He looked Elias up and down with a grin, then scooped him up into his arms, laughing at the astonished squeal he let out.

He carried him out of the house and down a short walkway to the beach, setting him gently in the sand once they were close to the water. After Elias straightened himself out, he stared up at August with wide eyes. He looked like he was waiting for something, expecting something, and when August took his hand in his own he flinched a little.

"Why do you look so bothered, bunny?" He asked, stepping closer and running his thumb over the back of his hand. He knew, just from touching it, that this was his injured hand, the one he'd broken with a hammer. The tendons and bones hadn't healed right, they felt mangled and torn up when he pressed against them. The way Elias's face twitched at the reawakened pain was absolutely mouthwatering, August tried to imagine the noises he would make if he very slowly broke it all over again.

Elias plastered on a strained smile, looking out toward the waves wistfully. "I'm not used to you being so gentle with me. Trying to uh...to not let myself get so wrapped up in it."

August sighed at the words, trailing his fingers over Elias's cheek, leaning over and kissing him softly. "You're so smart," he cooed, "but don't worry you're pretty self too much, I'll be careful. You're more fragile than I thought."

A trembling breath shook Elias's shoulders, but he knew that if he allowed himself to cry he would be in trouble. So, he pressed himself flush against August and kissed him hard, desperate for something to numb him. He hadn't finished his wine, he hadn't had any drugs in who knows how long, and the only other thing he knew would distract him from the fear for a moment was...handing himself over to the very thing causing it.

At one point they ended up down in the sand, clothes tossed aside carelessly. Elias forgot how great sex could be, when he wasn't being choked or beaten or butchered. He was waiting for August to turn on him any second, for his tender touches to turn to harsh, aggressive punches, or his sweet words to twist into hateful insults. It would happen any second, it was a miracle it hadn't already. He couldn't even believe how much August seemed to be enjoying it so far, Elias wasn't bloody or bruised up or even crying yet.

"Ah, my angel," August hummed, his lips against Elias's neck, "oh God you feel so good."

Elias gasped, arching his back against the sand. He clutched at August's arm hard, whimpering softly. He was baffled when August began to jerk him off; he hardly ever touched him like that towards the end, before things got messy, instead trying to fuck him until he came, until he was shaking and in tears, begging for help, for friction, for something. He moaned out at the touch, writhing just a little underneath him.

"Ah, fuck, August," he breathed, "jesus christ!" August pressed closer against him, kissing gently at his throat, moaning against his skin.

Once August finished, he pulled off of him, and Elias thought that was it. Yet again, left bothered and unfinished. He sighed and tipped his head back, trying to steady himself. It was ok this way, he had gotten through it without any new bruises or cuts, he wasn't hurt, he could deal with blue balls. But then, August was kissing down his torso, over his hips, on the insides of his thighs. When he started to suck him off, Elias whined loudly and reached down to tangle his fingers in his hair. He could feel August's hands holding him steady, those strong, rough hands that were hovering on the edge of being gentle and inflicting pain on him. It would happen any second now, this time Elias was sure, with how his fingers were tight around his hips.

"Au-August!" He moaned, writhing underneath his grip. He hated hearing himself moaning that name, hated that he was receiving pleasure from someone who he wanted to hate so badly, someone who had hurt him and the people he cared about. Once again, he was repulsed by himself, and he would have pushed August off of him if he wasn't right about to-

He gasped sharply as he came, shaking in August's hands. His breathing was labored as he relaxed, looking up at August as he crawled back on top of him. He felt tears in his eyes, that heavy guilt and disgust in himself weighing him down, pressing him into the sand harder than August was. August took his face in his hands, running his thumb over his cheek gently.

"You're so beautiful, bunny," he hummed, "I missed having you all to myself."

Elias frowned, turning his head to the side so he didn't have to look at him anymore. "It's so weird without you." His voice was faraway, and when August pulled away from him he sat up. "No one understood. I was just fucking up all the time and no one would punish me and I just felt...I felt..." He trailed off, shaking his head. What was it that he felt? He was glad to be away from August when he was, right? So what else could he have been feeling besides relief? Why, when he was looking back on it now, did it all seem so shitty and hopeless?

August sighed, petting his hair gently. "That sounds hard, angel. I hate thinking of you all alone, so lost."

"I had to hurt myself," Elias whispered, "no one else would so I had to do it myself."

August fell silent, then he pulled away and looked at Elias for a long time. The look on his face was undecipherable, Elias couldn't tell if he was disappointed or delighted at what he told him, and he only grew more confused when he let out a short laugh and stood up.

"Come on, little one. Get your clothes on." As he spoke, he pulled his own sand covered pants back on, and Elias got up and did the same. August took his hand and led him back up to the house, now eerily silent.

Once they were inside, August sat Elias down on the couch, wordlessly walking down the hallway. Elias was overwhelmed by his sudden quietness, August always had something to say about everything, and Elias hated not knowing what he was thinking about. It was the same as when Elias told him what happened to his face in the car, the deafening silence that made him feel like any minute August would flip out and just start screaming. As he waited for August to come back and do just that, he grabbed the glass of wine that was taken from him earlier and downed the rest of it.

"Come here, Eli!" August was suddenly calling. Elias stood up with a groan, shuffling down the long hallway. He peered into the rooms he walked past, frowning when he didn't see August in any of them.

"Where are you?" He heard the sound of floorboards creaking distantly, but the all the rooms were too big to really distinguish where the noise came from. When he thought he heard some shuffling in one of the rooms, he ducked into it and looked around, sighing when he was met with silence and an empty room. "August?" He whined.

He cried out when something solid slammed into the back of legs, making him crumple to the ground with a thud. He turned to see August standing over him, a wooden bat swinging carelessly in his hand. Elias scrambled away from him, eyes huge and already full of tears.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" He cried. August stayed silent still, and Elias grew even more panicked as he got closer. He just wanted August to say something, anything at all, so that at least he wasn't as confused. The bat swung again, this time cracking against his shoulder. Elias screamed in pain as he hit the floor, his body lit up in a blinding ache. August dropped the bat soon after, then yanked Elias up to his feet.

When Elias couldn't stand and collapsed against him with a sob, August merely grabbed a fist full of his hair and forced him to stand straight. He couldn't stifle his sobs, they weren't even his own at this point, his pain and fear were ripping them out of him violently. "Ple-please stop!" His legs were weak and battered, but every time he wobbled and nearly fell again, August's hand tightened and twisted harshly in his hair and he forced himself to straighten out again.

August dragged him out of the bedroom and down the hallway, not waiting for him when he stumbled and tripped. As they approached a flight of stairs, Elias's panic grew further. He couldn't even walk right as it was, how was he supposed to conquer stairs?

As it turned out, though, he didn't have to try to wobble down them, because once they got to the top, August unceremoniously shoved him down the hard steps.

He landed hard at the bottom, breathless and dazed from the pain. He choked on broken gasps, his chest tight from not being able to breathe. When he heard August's steps coming down the stairs he let out a hushed whine of fear.

"That looked painful," he remarked, crouching down to inspect his face, "I thought you'd catch yourself."

Elias finally gasped in a breath, groaning in between coughs. August hoisted him up again, giving him more support since he really couldn't stand on his own this time. "Ah fuck," he sniffled, dropping his head toward his chest, "ow..."

After a few more steps, Elias's arm was yanked up above his head, earning an agonized howl. He felt cold metal wrapping around his wrist, snapping shut. When he looked up, his arm was raised above his head by a chain bolted into the ceiling. As he stared at it in horror, August secured his other arm as well, then let go of him completely.

Elias's shoulders and wrists were screaming, he couldn't stand on his own, and without August he was left drooped over, dangling by the chains. He began to rethink everything that happened before that moment, trying to figure out what he did wrong to warrant this painful and humiliating punishment. Had he spoken out of turn? Was it because of his behavior on the plane? Or because he had almost refused to come with August? He started to cry again, quiet whimpers now in replacement of his loud, panicked sobs from moments ago. When he ticced, a whole new pain coursed through his body.

"I'm s-so fucking sor...sorry!" He choked out, looking up at August as he cried. "Please August, please, I'm sorry!"

August grinned at him, at his desperate begging, at how ruined he looked, slumped over under the chains. "You're so gorgeous, Eli," he praised, turning away from him and beginning to dig through a bag against the wall. He pulled out a large camera, and Elias let out another hopeless sob. "You're so much prettier than Allen, you know that?" Elias didn't know why he would say that, he didn't care about Allen or how pretty Allen was or which one of them August liked more, he couldn't care about anything stupid like that, not when his world was painted bright red with suffering. He snapped a picture, and Elias flinched at the flash, just as he always did. "Stay still, bunny."

Elias did as he was told, hoping if he pleased August enough he could be let down. The flash went off a few more times, and as August lowered the camera, Elias collapsed in on himself with a quiet, agonized whimper. "Please Aug-August, it hu-hurts so bad..."

August began to dig through his bag again, and Elias screwed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain. His shoulder, the one that took the blow from the bat, was on fire now, his fingertips numb. When he felt August's palm against his waist, he relaxed a fraction. It was over, he told himself, August was going to let him down and comfort him now. But then something cold was pressed against his ribcage, and just as he opened his eyes to see what it was, a burning pain jolted through his entire body. He convulsed at the shock, his teeth hurting from how hard he bit down. It seemed to last for hours, and when it finally stopped he collapsed further, now exhausted and in an insurmountable degree of pain. It couldn't get worse than this, and if it did Elias thought he just might die.

"Oh, you're so quiet now, little one," August sighed, grabbing his face and forcing him to look up. Elias caught sight of a small handheld taser in his other hand. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Elias sobbed, nodding feebly. "No m-more."

August smiled at him, then tased him once again. This time, Elias let out a guttural, agonized scream, writhing against the chains. This time it went on for so long that when it stopped, Elias passed out, only held up by the chains. When he came to, he looked up at August with tear stained cheeks and hopeless eyes. He wasn't begging anymore, couldn't get the words out, but the look on his face was just as good. August could have stared at him for hours, for days, if he kept making that face. He would give up food and water and oxygen and sunlight if it meant he could stay down here in the basement with Elias and just look at him forever, observe every inch of his body and how it reacted to the pain, memorize all the different ways he could scream and beg, taste his tears and see if there was a difference in the ones from torture and fear. He wanted to know Elias, inside and out, in all the most vulnerable ways, in ways that no human should ever know another.

But he couldn't do that, he had plans. That would have to wait. And besides, they had all the time in the world now, with no one knowing where to look for them.

"I've gotta run to the store, ok?" He said, his voice teasing. "You wait here and be good, and I'll let you out when I get back." He ruffled Elias's hair, watching his face sink further into despair.

"No, please! God please let me down it hurts!" He tugged against the chains, panic ripping through every muscle as he thrashed against his restraints. It was useless, August was already walking away, ignoring his pleading.

It felt like he was gone for hours, and Elias had a headache from the stress and how much he was crying. He was so exhausted, the pain was so intense he couldn't think straight, it was all a jumbled mess blurred together by the delirium of his injuries. Every now and then he forgot where he was, had to lift up his head, which felt like it was made of lead, and then remind himself that he had somehow found himself in a basement in France. Of course it would end up like this for him. Of course he would finally leave the country and go somewhere nice just to end up chained up in a basement.

When he finally heard footsteps on the stairs, he began tugging at the chains again, eager to get out before he even saw August. He didn't notice the other voice until August was at the bottom of the steps, a stranger at his side. Elias froze in confusion for a moment, then the insane aching all over his body pushed past that and he pulled at the chains again.

"August p-p-please let me down please I can't ta-take it anymore!" His gut twisted when August and the man laughed at him, and he had to try really, really hard to not start crying again.

"You look tired, angel," August teased, then turned to the other man, "je pense qu'il très fatigue." (I think he's really tired.)

The man nodded along with him, looking him up and down in curiosity. "Oui, mais il est beaux. Oh, regarde sa précieuse petite tête." (Yes, but he is beautiful. Oh, look at his precious little head.)

Elias let out an agitated sob, going weak at the hopelessness. He didn't know what they were saying, just that they sounded like they were talking about an animal they were discussing purchasing. August stepped forward. Elias noticed he smelled like booze, then he noticed his lopsided smile matched the one the man behind him was wearing. They were both drunk, and that meant Elias was undeniably fucked. August ran his hand through Elias's hair, pleased at the broken cries it caused. "Exhaustion looks so good on you, Eli." With that, he turned away and grabbed his bag, the same one he'd been hiding his camera and taser in, the same one Elias had kept wondering what other torture devices where hidden in while August was gone, prompting Elias to scream again.

"No! No more, please, please August!"

His begging was futile, August closed in on him quickly with a huge butcher knife, sliding it teasingly against Elias's chest before actually using it. When he started slicing into him, it seemed rather reckless and Elias was horrified he was going to do something irreversible to him. After he got bored of the knife, he sauntered back to the bag to look for another instrument.

Elias was covered in blood already, and he realized that his legs were completely useless by now, the chains in the ceiling were the only reason he was upright. He heard August say something in French again, and when he looked up to try and be as much apart of their conversation as he could, he saw that the stranger he had brought down with him had his phone held up, recording all of it with a satisfied grin on his face.

August used a belt, next, causing Elias to positively shriek in pain every time it made harsh contact with his already cut up body. Every now and then, he would stop what he was doing and step close to Elias, whispering so that only he could hear him, saying "you're so perfect like this, my love," or "you have no idea what it does to me when you scream like that, bunny" and it made Elias want to throw up.

He must've used everything in his bag on Elias. He'd hit him with the belt, cut him with a knife, shocked him, beat him with brass knuckles, burned him with a torch, and those were only the ones that Elias was present enough to understand what was being done to him. After all of that, he got lost in the waves of pain and the sounds of his own screams and begs, and then he was unaware of whatever tool August was using to cause it all.

They left the room without a word, or maybe they did say something and he was just too drunk on the pain to notice, when they were done, leaving Elias alone and trembling and lightheaded. His body felt fuzzy and disconnected from him, but the pain was still all too real, too intense. A flash of light caught his eye from the side, and it was nearly impossible to lift his head enough to see what it was. His vision was swimming at the movement, it made him instantly nauseous, and he had to squint really hard to be able to see clearly. When he was able to focus, he was even more confused. Was it...a fire? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the tiny flame started to grow bigger, slithering up the wall on the other side of the basement. Elias wasn't sure of the when or why or how the fire started, all he knew was that it was getting bigger so fast and he was chained up and couldn't move and he was going to be burned alive.

"August!" He tried to scream, his voice so strained and broken up that it was hardly audible. He doubted that August heard him, and then he was even more horrified. The fire was getting closer and he couldn't even call for help, there was nothing he could do. Then he wondered if August had done this on purpose. It made sense, he had chained him up and hurt him so bad that he couldn't move even if he wasn't chained up, made him scream so loud that no one could hear his cries for help, then he lit a fire so he could kill him. It was a well orchestrated plan, Elias had to give him that, and he never even saw it coming.

What he did see coming, though, was the fire, now climbing up the ceiling and creeping across the floor toward him. As much as he could in his broken state, he scrambled back toward the wall, the chains rattling uselessly above him. He was going to die, he was going to die and there was no saving him this time.

He was surprised when he heard himself scream another time, he must've been so scared he forced his shredded vocal chords to work for a moment. "August please help me!!" He shrieked, closing his eyes tight so he wouldn't see the flames that would engulf him any second.

When he felt hands on him, he let out a measly, horrified squeak, cowering away from it, thinking it was the flames he was so horrified of. "Elias what is wrong with you? Why are you screaming?" That was August, talking to him now. But why was August here if he was trying to kill him? And why was he asking him why he was screaming?

When he worked up the courage to open his eyes, the fire was gone, August was standing in front of him. Elias gasped a few times, he didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. "The...August..." He sobbed as August began to take the chains off. "There was a f-fire. A hu...huge fire, in the corner." He collapsed right against August's chest as soon as the chains were off, felt his arms wrap around his ruined body to catch him before he fell right to the floor.

August lowered him to the floor, then pulled away and pushed his hair out of his face to inspect him further. He was frowning as he looked into Elias's panicked eyes. "Oh, you poor thing, you're hallucinating," he spoke like he was talking to a child with scraped knees, "there's no fire, angel. It's all ok, you're ok."

Elias looked around the basement again, there was no fire, no burn marks anywhere. "B...But I saw it." Thanks to the final scream he'd let out, his voice was just barely above a hoarse whisper. "I saw it, August."

August sighed heavily, then he stood and hoisted up and over his shoulder. Elias whimpered at the harsh movement, but he didn't mind the pain so much when he realized that August was taking him back upstairs. He was so relieved when he realized that going upstairs meant that the punishment was over, that he wasn't going to be engulfed by flames or simply left to dangle under the chains all night. It was over, he told himself. He counted to ten, it was over. He was set down gently on the couch, it was over. August was speaking to him, but he wasn't listening because it was over, and that was all that mattered.

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dxmedstudent · 6 years

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Hey there! I'm a student on pneumology rotation (is this how it's said in English? Maybe lung diseases ward? Anyway) and I'm shocked to see that so many smokers come to get visited and wants release from their symptoms but refuse to stop smoking... today I had a pt who smoked 40 cig/day and had a mixture of emphysema and severe fibrosis, with a doubt of cancer and still refused to even consider stopping smoking. How do you deal with patients like this?

Hello! Medicine’s weird because it’s never just about medicine. It’s sort of a window into the human condition. We learn a lot about human nature through our patients, and our rotations as students are usually where we first see that things are never straightforward. People frequently come in with things that you could, if you wished to, describe as ‘self inflicted’. Personally, I think the term is meaningless, because much of what we deal with in medicine is a result of personal decisions, and because we have a duty of care to everyone, not just the people leading exemplary lives. I didn’t promise to only care for people who do everything right, I vowed to do my best for everyone. Distributive justice is central, here; whilst we might deny a treatment to someone whose body won’t withstand it, or who we clinically feel won’t benefit from it, we do not deny treatments from people as a punishment for their personal choices. But you’ll notice that people will come in, suffer from symptoms that result from something like drinking excessively or smoking, or poorly controlled diabetes, and you’ll do your best to control their symptoms. But sometimes people still lapse. Mistakes happen, but not all lapses are mistakes; sometimes people are genuinely struggling to quit. Sometimes people see little reason to. Yes, people lapse, and their condition gets worse, and sometimes it feels like people aren’t listening to medical advice and don’t want to help themselves. But that’s never entirely true. They aren’t doing it to spite medical professionals or their families or themselves. Usually people know that medically it’s the best decision, but that’s not the only thing going on in their lives. Sometimes smoking or drinking, or biscuits etc is the one slightly nice-feeling thing in their entire life. People will often tell you that they have very little to look forward to in life, and lots of problems, and just the stress of cutting out the one thing that brings them any enjoyment; lots of people would struggle with that. Which is why medicine is really a job for people watchers, people who want to understand humanity. When you find out about people’s lives and the problems they face, it all starts to make much more sense. And when you treat them as people, not as failed addicts, and not as failing livers or lungs, then they open up to you and you see how much suffering goes on all around us. You really can’t imagine the stories you’ll be told. The secrets people share with you when you make them feel safe. And just how much most people struggle with their entire lives. It teaches us to reserve judgement, because the more people you meet, the more we realise how little we know about their lives. Quitting smoking is so hard. It’s one of the hardest things to do. Addiction, in general is really hard, but some habits are easier to kick than others. Smoking is one of the difficult ones. I have colleagues who smoke; they know how bad it is, but staying smoke-free when you’re as stressed as we are can be really hard. It’s not something we can truly understand if we’ve not been there. So I think as medics we should try to be as understanding as we can. Which isn’t easy because society sets us up to demonise things, and in medicine it would just be so much easier if people weren’t addicted to things and people behaved in predictable, understandable ways and followed doctors’ advice. But unfortunately, that’s not what humans are like, and the only thing we can do is either spend our entire working lives bitter about it, or just try to understand people as best as we can, rather than judging them. It’s not easy, I think it’s an outlook we have to actively cultivate, but it’s also much more rewarding to see things through this kind of lens. The thing I have trouble with is the concept of social smoking. Like, you deliberately, from a position of not being addicted at all, choose to smoke a small amount of a highly addictive and harmful substance with friends on a fairly regular basis but insist you ‘aren’t addicted’? And this is a common practice amongst people who otherwise don’t drink particularly excessively or ‘do drugs’? Nicotine is more addictive than alcohol and most illegal drugs, and third only to heroin and cocaine in terms of addictiveness when you compare it to most drugs. I fear that a lot of people who ‘smoke socially’ are in complete denial about their relationship to nicotine. Because there’s a stigma to admitting you’re addicted to something, and claiming that you have control of it and are choosing when to use it is more socially and personally acceptable. It’s just such an incredibly risky move to make, and as a healthcare professional, it goes almost without saying that if you’re not already smoking, I would not recommend starting to, in any way shape or form. Because I know how difficult smoking is (and I grew up with a now ex-smoker parent), and I have friends who smoke from a young age, and that’s pretty understandable because they started through things like peer pressure when they were practically children, and it’s so, so hard to stop. And that makes sense; most people take up smoking or drugs at a young age because we’re particularly vulnerable to peer pressure then. Because of my history, I hate smoking with a passion (there are literally no benefits, if I could magic away the tobacco industry and people’s dependence on it with a wand, I’d probably do it), but I can understand how difficult it is to stop. But I know close friends who started in their mid/late 20s because their friends were smoking socially, despite knowing very well how bad it is for their health. And I just can’t think of a single sensible reason why anyone would do that at our age. I’m still struggling to understand what causes people to do that. I guess it goes to show that people are still hard to predict or understand sometimes.The only thing that I really, really struggle with, though, is when parents who smoke don’t try to stop smoking after their asthmatic child ends up in ITU. I fully get that it’s an immensely difficult battle. But in my view, if there’s one good reason to try, saving your child’s life is that reason. If your kid keeps on ending up in ITU with their asthma, you could potentially kill them if you keep smoking. It doesn’t matter if you ‘smoke outside the house’, the particles still get on your clothes and still end up being breathed in by your child.

#askdx #ask dx #smoking #tobacco #nicotine #don't do it #medicine #my life #personal

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