My old man did. Three cases of pancreatitis later he developed type 2 diabetes and switched his jones for wine to hydrocodone. He's 78, has a pacemaker, congestive heart failure and still smokes a pack a day. For the life of me I have no idea how the grim reaper hasn't yet collected his ass, but I can only conclude his continued neglect of himself is like some weird badge of honor. It's like it's all he has left in life.