Sunday, November 25, 2007

Holiday Hangover

Every year, for several years now, there has been extreme family drama at my Grandparent’s house for Thanksgiving.  This year, Hubby and I preached to our family that drama was not the way to go.  We talked people into laughing off the situations that, in earlier years, would have caused big blow-outs and threats of leaving. 
This was a quiet year and the laughter was evident.  We told jokes, stories and avoided the snide, inconsiderate demeanor of my once favorite uncle.
Now I am home, back in the safety of Seattle, and I find myself contemplating the situation and what the future may bring.
I have decisions to make.  After spending days in a cigarette smoke filled environment, my lungs are screaming in agony.  My head hurts from the constant hacking and even Hubby looks at me with a worried expression.  I’m giving it till Tuesday.  If it doesn’t clear by then, I’m off to the Doctor to make sure it isn’t something worse than my body trying to shrug off the remnants of the smoke.
It is another year until Thanksgiving, but I am not sure that we will be able to attend again.  Mainly because of my allergy to cigarette smoke and my Uncle’s undying need to prove his superiority to the rest of the family by smoking inside.  It was horrible.  I had to spend much of the holiday walking around outside, trying to get enough air to breath.  The rest of the time I was hacking and sneezing. 
The hardest thing about this Thanksgiving was not being able to spend quality time with the two people I wanted to see the most.  My grandparents.  Because of the smoke, being forced outside to breath, or forced into other rooms with closed doors, I barely got to talk with my Grandparents.  And when I was able to talk to them, I was so miserable I could hardly think straight. 
The rest of the family had many a conversation about what to do with this situation.  No one likes the smoke, and we have asked many times for my uncle not to do this to us.  Even expressing the fact that I am physically unable to breathe doesn’t seem to matter to him.  Heck, even knowing my Grandparents are on supplemental oxygen and listening to my Grandfather hack didn’t seem to bother him one bit. We are a stubborn family, and I know many of us are set in our ways, but for me it has become more than an irritant.  It is physically disabling for me to be there, breathing in the allergens that close my lungs. I am not sure that suffering for days afterwards is worth it. 
Hubby and I are not sure we will be doing this again.  It is too hard to watch a man be so selfish that he puts everyone else at risk because of an addiction he refuses to control.  He may always be welcome at my Grandparent’s house, always welcome to smoke where he chooses, but it is my health, the rest of my life that concerns me.  I don’t think I am willing to put myself at risk because of selfish man who has no respect for my family. 
Being able to breathe is too important to me.