This is a story of self-wrought destruction. I hope you will learn from my mistakes and avoid the same pitfalls I created. Allow me to share how I contracted a sickness that began last Tuesday night. The scene is set in the backhouse of a cigar lounge, smoke in the air, and scotch being served. A fine 4-course meal of steak, lobster, risotto, and chocolate cake, all culminating with a glorious game of poker.
I won the poker game with all my coworkers. Gambling gave me an unparalleled thrill. I rode the wave of scotch, cigars, and victory. In fact, I annihilated them. Three of the poker players were pro or semi-pro poker players. I called their bluffs and dubbed myself the smooth operator. People were chanting “Groovy,” the nickname gifted by my coworkers. My employer said the winner gets $1000, so I had to pull all stops and go no-holds-barred. But all heroes must fall.
Winning was not my mistake. Being a champion was not my downfall. It was the cigars. I ripped 5 cigars that Tuesday night. At the ripe age of 27, I’ve smoked less than 10 cigars up to this point in my life, so this one night was more than a third of my lifetime’s cigar consumption. I am acutely aware of the effects cigars can have on you. My body responded with a “go for it” everytime I asked if I should have another. After the glorious poker victory, the night began to wind down. This was a weeknight afterall, and we had work the next day.
Once I got home and laid down, my world spun. One might think that I had the cigar spins, but this was different. My stomach was spinning. Something was not right. Do not fear; a good night’s rest should resolve the issue. Thanks to my apple watch, I can tell you that I did not get a good night’s rest.
The next day was death. I was a zombie, a walking vegetable, pure malaise sitting on a wet mop and trying to hold a conversation with my coworkers at work.
Fast forward, I survived the following day. Through a quick nap and pure mental fortitude, I made it. I realized I had to wage physical warfare against time. The day ended, but I had won. Time had lost. My body persisted in time and space.
Two days post poker victory, I felt great. On the third day, my lurgy returned. My appetite gone. I started to worry that this ailment might be more than a cigar associated tirade against my anatomy. Not only did this affliction give false hope that it had passed, but like a cast out demon, the demon had returned with 7 unclean spirits.
To spare the details, I am four days from ground zero. I thought my climax was the poker victory, but it turns out my apotheosis unveiled itself Saturday morning as I emptied my stomach in a staggering hour and a half. Divine levels of discomfort made this my true pinnacle. The moment I freed my body from stomach cramps and came into my true self, an exoskeleton lacking any interior material, a skeleton with a gaping void inside, an ecosystem without life. I won the game, but at what costs? The moral of the story is this: do not smoke five cigars.