SINCE CHOKING...

I haven't written in a few weeks because, a few days after starting this, I went to a local diner and choked. I could have died. I lived to tell the story, obviously, but...I could have DIED in a DINER! The idea of that makes me now cringe.

I had gone by myself, since I had the day off from work and decided to treat myself to a lazy breakfast. It was a diner where they know me (and my husband) since we usually go there on Saturday mornings. I'd brought a book, had nothing to do for a few hours (not that I planned to stay in there that long) and was feeling really comfy and relaxed. I ordered my "regular" (cheese omelette, turkey sausage, no potatoes, no toast and lots of coffee) and sat back.

Since it was a weekday, and later in the morning, the place wasn't packed. Most of the customers were older---retired, probably. When the meal came, I dug in. I hadn't even eaten one third of it when...suddenly...GASP! (no, I couldn't even gasp; there was no air that got through) something got stuck in my windpipe and I started choking.

Being a stupid a**, and never the one to ask for help, I sat in my booth, trying to get air, trying to Heimilich myself, waving my arms above my head (thinking that it would open my windpipe) and NOBODY CAME OVER. TALK ABOUT FEELING INVISIBLE!

Didn't anybody see me? I wonder that now, on reflection. Where was my waitress, who always hovers over me with the coffee pot? (She knows how I like it fresh and hot and I always leave her good tips.) Didn't the old folks, sitting in nearby booths, think that I was acting like a crazy person? Maybe that's exactly why nobody came near me...but, still... 

I remember thinking, at one point, "I'm going to die." Everytime I tried to breathe, all I heard was a rasping, wheezy sound and nothing filled my lungs. NO AIR. Even as a swimmer, I knew when it was time to rise to the surface of the water and breathe again. I was in control. But not that morning...not in the diner...

I don't know what saved me, my fists pounding on my chest, my doubling over and trying to Heimilich myself, or just a gift from the gods and goddesses, but I did not die on that morning. The tiny, almost murderous particle of food which almost killed me, finally dislodged itself and I was able to gulp in air.

My hands were shaking. My body was shaking. I pushed away the breakfast plate--almost full of food---and forced myself to remain seated, calming myself, "It's OK. You are alive. You are well. Nothing is wrong. Just listen to the other diners' conversations. You can get up and leave when you stop shaking."

Eventually, I did just that. My throat was sore, the way it feels after a long bout of wretching. I walked outside into the cool, blue-skied autumnal morning and thought, "I might never have seen this. I might never have walked outside that diner." It did give me pause; I tell you.

For the rest of the day and even for the rest of that week and...well, I must admit...even to this very minute, I felt as if I were in shock. Of course, it's faded a lot since that morning but, I have this odd cough that just doesn't go away--ever since I choked.

I refer now to things as "Before I choked" and "After I choked". Kind of like my personal BC/AD time frame.

I see that is sunny outside. I must end this and go play.