Tiny rivulets of sweat ran down the furrows in her heavily creased brow.  She gritted her teeth, clenched the banister and slowly stumbled down the stairs.  In all the sixty-three years of Annie's life, she had never felt this rotten.  The reflection of the haggard, withdrawn face in the hallway mirror momentarily shocked her. 

Her hair was wild, knotted and sticking out in all directions.  Sallow skin hung off sharp, angular bones.  Dull eyes in sunken sockets complimented dry, cracked lips.  She decided she looked as bad as she felt.  Annie staggered into the lounge and lowered herself into the over-stuffed easy chair.

Fatigued knee joints and rusty box springs creaked in unison.  Annie absently gazed out of the Victorian bay windows whilst mentally cataloguing the more recent additions to her directory of complaints.  Aches, pains, twinges, and sore spots.  Over the past few days, these minor ailments had been gradually evolving into large-scale problems.  When she decided to stop smoking, Annie knew there would be physical effects but nothing had prepared her for this.               

The smoking cessation officer's voice rang in her head.  Laura, that was her name.  She had sat in an office whilst Laura had bombarded her with information about coping strategies and mechanisms, quitting aids and support groups.  Annie didn't really listen to what the officer was saying.  She was still distracted by the fact that Laura's job was to advise people on how to stop smoking.  Annie heard the last comment she made though, loud and clear. 

"This is going to be the hardest thing you will ever do."

A little smile had spread across Annie's lips.  Stopping smoking wasn't hard.  Coming home from a night shift at the hospital and finding your house ablaze was hard.  Burying your husband and only child on the same day was hard.  Waking up alone and surviving day-to-day was hard.  Annie didn't say any of this, of course.  She had taken all the leaflets Laura had given her, thanked her for the advice and left. 

Stopping smoking was something that Annie would do very easily and very alone.  She had done everything alone for the past twenty years, since George and Sally were taken away.  "Faulty wiring", the fireman had said, "freak accident".  Thirty-six years of searching for the perfect person.  Four years of cultivating a perfect family.  All destroyed because of a piece of wire. 

Annie had started smoking again the day of the funerals.  She needed something to take the edge off, to calm her nerves.  When Emma had offered her a cigarette, she almost kissed her feet.  George had hated everything about smoking.  The smell, the mess, the health risks.  That was the one thing he had demanded she change about herself.  Her reliance on the cancer sticks, as he called them.  A compromise was made where if Annie stopped smoking then George would shave of his beloved moustache.  The deal was made and they both never looked back, until now.           

A flash of blinding light accompanied with a wave of nausea dragged Annie away from her memories.  Shooting pains spread out from her chest and down both arms.  The first ache had surfaced the day after her last cigarette.  That was a few days ago now and it was getting gradually more intense.  Her breath came in shallow gasps.  Annie leaned back into the fluffy cushions, closed her eyes and let the pain flow over her. 

Printed words from the health education pamphlets swam into her field of vision.  Could experience tightening of the chest, shortness of breath, irritability, weight gain.  Physical discomfort is only temporary.  At that moment, she knew the illness wasn't just the side effect of kicking the habit.  A low moan escaped from Annie's lips.  She slowly realised that something else was seriously wrong with her.    

Twenty years of popping Valium and Temazepam.  Washed down with alternate glasses of vodka and orange and white wine.  The bouts of fasting then binging.  An eternity of disturbed sleep and high stress levels.  A lack of meaning combined with an excess of monotony.  Annie cursed herself for being so naïve.  How could she have even considered that her increasing agony was connected to only the cigarettes?  It was silly really.         

Jumbled thoughts ran around Annie's mind.  She needed to phone the doctor or the ambulance and get help.  It felt like a large weight had suddenly been dropped onto her chest.  She gasped like a fish out of water.  Where was the telephone?  She couldn't remember.  The pain was subsiding and was being replaced with a hazy light-headedness.  Annie clutched her throat whilst she gulped down air.  A loud ringing blasted through her ears.  She shook her head from side to side to get rid of the annoying noise. 

The buzzing continued.  She tried to focus on the sound to ascertain which direction it came from.  It seemed to come from Annie, more specifically, the arm of the easy chair.  Why on earth was the chair ringing?  Nothing made sense anymore.  She slid her hand down the side of the chair and grabbed a small vibrating object.  She pulled the cordless phone out from behind the cushions.  It took all of her remaining strength to press the green button and bring the receiver up to her ear.  Annie was unable to say anything.  She slumped further into the chair and just listened to the soothing voice.   

"Annie darling, it's George.  You didn't think I'd let you do this on your own did you?"  Hazy images and vivid colours flashed before her eyes.  "You've not to be frightened.  Just close your eyes and listen to me."  Annie's pain transformed into warmth and love.  "We've missed you so much.  Sally's here.  She's desperate to see you."  Falling into a big black hole.  "Don't worry, not long now and we'll be back together again.  Shall I sing for you?"  Feeling safe and content.  "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." 

The telephone fell from Annie's lax grip as her struggling heart forced out its final rhythm. .