Smoke Screen
| March 12, 2024If our son was in the ER with a collapsed lung, how could vaping be safe?
I have a personal story I want to share, even knowing that not everyone will accept what I have to say. Still, I believe words that come from the heart go straight into the heart, and I want to do my part in preventing our family’s experience from happening to someone else.
My 19-year-old son Levi is a great kid by all standards, even though I’m biased as his mother. He is sweet and kind and sharp and diligent — a talented learner who loves sitting in the beis medrash for hours at a time.
When Covid hit, he was in a mesivta in our city. His yeshivah decided to keep everyone in the dorms for a few months without any breaks. This way the bochurim could learn without having to worry about catching the virus and being endlessly tested and isolated. It made sense, but there was one major drawback: There was very little for the boys to do in the way of outlets. Apparently, though, they’d found something to keep them busy after seder, because when he finally came home and we happily hugged him, we noticed a certain smell.
One of our children filled us in on what we would not have guessed ourselves. Our Levi was vaping. In our Midwestern family, vaping and smoking are nonstarters, even if vaping is “just” e-cigarettes. All our kids know exactly how strongly we feel about this issue.
We tried speaking to him about it. We tried scaring him. He would nod in agreement, but the lingering smell continued to come home with him every off-Shabbos. It became more pervasive once he left to learn in a yeshivah in Lakewood.
Looking at the big picture, Levi is a parent’s dream — and while we were worried, we knew how widespread this recreational activity is, so we left it alone. We didn’t want to turn those few visits with him per year into a negative experience.
Levi started his second year of beis medrash. He was so happy there and never missed a day.
Then one day, our older son Mordy, who is also learning in Lakewood, called. It was the phone call that every mom dreads — the one where you automatically suck in your breath as your stomach drops.
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