Couple weeks ago my wife and I went to the local weekly Flea Market. There was an old lady in a power wheelchair buzzing around with an oxygen bottle...and a cigarette. 

Wish I would have had a camera handy. 

My Dad quit smoking when he started coughing up blood. That was in August 1988. We buried him in March 1989.

I never had to quit. I have hated cigarettes with a passion ever since I can remember.