As most people who know me know, I hate hard candy. Besides not being anything remotely pallet satisfying to me, I have always had a total fear of choking, something I was just discussing on Thanksgiving Day when presented with some French hard candies.
Today we ran to Costco and then I did trader Joes run. Nothing eventful at all. We were hanging around the house. E called me and I was talking to her when the phone died out. Just as I was waiting for her to call me back, I saw my vitamins and figured I would pop one while waiting.
I have been taking vitamins for years. It seems the more organic they are, the horsier they become. But like most things, you grow used to the size of the pill and know what to expect. I have grown so accustomed to these particular, horse sized pills that I typically don’t drink anything until afterwards – I just pop one.
As soon as the pill hit my throat, I knew it was bad. It fell right onto my windpipe and I immediately felt the air stop, the blood rush to my face and panic setting in. I was in our kitchen and Alex was in the living room. I drank a little water but that only seemed to exasperate the situation. Those seconds felt like an eternity and since I could not speak, moan or scream and was too panicked to move, I started hitting the counter with my hands as hard as I could.
Alex wasted no time as I know he saw my panic as I was banging like a crazy person on the counter. Without a moment to lose, he hit me on the back and then grabbed me and performed the Heimlich maneuver. I felt the pill come up and threw it up in to the sink. And then I breathed in like I had never done before. Then I cried.
I have no idea what I would have done had he been down the hall in the shower or worse, not been there at all.
It’s been a few hours and every time I think about it, I get choked up – the “what if’s.” One of my worst fears WAS the worst. Much worse, it got me thinking about folks who take these monster pills and have no one there to help them in cases like this one.
Today it was scary. I am SO shaky and freaked out but my amazing boyfriend was my hero. Today I am so thankful.
Showing posts with label scary stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scary stuff. Show all posts
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
What will become of them?
http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/news/texassouthwest/stories/DN-polygamists_08tex.ART.State.Edition2.466ebcd.html
I was driving in this morning and listening to Robin Quivers and Howard Stern. They were discussing the news, specifically the 401 (as of this morning) young teenage mothers to baby aged kids that were found on the polygamist compound in Texas.
Upon arriving to work I kept reading. It’s not just horrifying on a moral level, but looking at the pictures of some of the residents of this compound in their 1800’s-era pioneer dresses with hair down to their feet – I just start to wonder – what will become of them?
Living in their isolated world that seemingly believes that everything else but there is full of evil, how will those 400 women and children blend into a society that is certainly laced with evil, but also progressive ways of thinking as well as living?
I was driving in this morning and listening to Robin Quivers and Howard Stern. They were discussing the news, specifically the 401 (as of this morning) young teenage mothers to baby aged kids that were found on the polygamist compound in Texas.
Upon arriving to work I kept reading. It’s not just horrifying on a moral level, but looking at the pictures of some of the residents of this compound in their 1800’s-era pioneer dresses with hair down to their feet – I just start to wonder – what will become of them?
Living in their isolated world that seemingly believes that everything else but there is full of evil, how will those 400 women and children blend into a society that is certainly laced with evil, but also progressive ways of thinking as well as living?
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Shaken like a martini, minus the buzz...
In the Midwest where I grew up, we did things called, “tornado drills,” in school. This was a time, during tornado season, where a very ghastly alarm would go off, teachers would herd our little troubled and frightened souls into the hallways, and we would lurch our bodies onto the floor into an almost Yoga-like position with our hands over our heads to protect ourselves in case the ceiling were to blow off and cave in.
Once in a blue moon, the sky would become ominous and yes, there would be real tornado sirens going off in the distance we would have to, in panic-mode, run to the halls and do this strange, protective position.
While lying with your head jutted against the wall, all sorts of worries would come into my head. “Is my mom okay??” “Will I ever see my dad or siblings ever again?” “Will it be like the Wizard of Oz??” Since I was brought up in worst-case scenario mode, these dismal thoughts would cloud my 4th graders brain.
Having been awoken last night by the Man during the 4.5 earthquake (which was only a few miles west of our home) I could have kept sleeping, but he was ready to run and get into position with a look of …terror. I use this word mildly, but I realized that my “tornado drills” were just that…drills. Even in some of the creepiest storms I have witnessed, there might have been masses of sky swirling that were actually small tornados, but the touchdowns were always in the same areas, far from the house I grew up in, and not so ironically called, “tornado alley.”
But earthquakes are a whole other monster. There are no real drills. There are no signs due to weather, time of day, time of year or anything else. It just happens when it happens. Some people like to say there is “earthquake weather,” but that is just a myth. It just happens because rifts in the ground want to move. Or there is some uneasy tug from the Universe. Whatever the reasons, I can’t help but feel for my Man and my Bunnie who grew up in the very edgy headspace and have both endured real life disturbances due to these quakes.
Why even my own brother and his wife were on one of the MAIN streets during the 1994 quake and had their apartment totaled.
No rhyme. No reason. No warnings..just shakes, rattles and rolls. And sometimes, disaster.
Once in a blue moon, the sky would become ominous and yes, there would be real tornado sirens going off in the distance we would have to, in panic-mode, run to the halls and do this strange, protective position.
While lying with your head jutted against the wall, all sorts of worries would come into my head. “Is my mom okay??” “Will I ever see my dad or siblings ever again?” “Will it be like the Wizard of Oz??” Since I was brought up in worst-case scenario mode, these dismal thoughts would cloud my 4th graders brain.
Having been awoken last night by the Man during the 4.5 earthquake (which was only a few miles west of our home) I could have kept sleeping, but he was ready to run and get into position with a look of …terror. I use this word mildly, but I realized that my “tornado drills” were just that…drills. Even in some of the creepiest storms I have witnessed, there might have been masses of sky swirling that were actually small tornados, but the touchdowns were always in the same areas, far from the house I grew up in, and not so ironically called, “tornado alley.”
But earthquakes are a whole other monster. There are no real drills. There are no signs due to weather, time of day, time of year or anything else. It just happens when it happens. Some people like to say there is “earthquake weather,” but that is just a myth. It just happens because rifts in the ground want to move. Or there is some uneasy tug from the Universe. Whatever the reasons, I can’t help but feel for my Man and my Bunnie who grew up in the very edgy headspace and have both endured real life disturbances due to these quakes.
Why even my own brother and his wife were on one of the MAIN streets during the 1994 quake and had their apartment totaled.
No rhyme. No reason. No warnings..just shakes, rattles and rolls. And sometimes, disaster.
Monday, June 04, 2007
I think I need an exorcist.
I have a jinx syndrome right now. I don't know how it started, but I believe I have surpassed the #4 mark in finding all things breakable and unknowingly have started my mission to seek and destroy.
It started over a month ago. Setting: Cinco de Mayo weekend -- I am at a fun and festive crawfish boil, drinking beers, ripping heads off of crawfish, jamming to some old school NOLA tunes and wearing the greatest and most expensive sunglasses that have ever donned my face. Not mine, but my darling boyfriends shades that he tells me look so great on me. (All fun and kidding aside, they are pretty effing cool)
Five hours later and too many beers over, a lens is MIA. Just fell out of my head. Darling boyfriend is not mad but completely stumped and befuddled as to how it fell out and where it went.
A week later, it is 5 a.m. on a Saturday. I have Great Neighbor with me. We are pulling out of my eeny Hollywood parking spot with all the glee a girl could muster as we were heading to Disneyland! As I was carefully and slowly pulling out of my spot, I get side-tracked by the Monster Truck in my garage. I look away for a hair strand and partially rip off my passenger side mirror, only to hit it again on a later date.
A week later, I am in Chicago with cell phone on me at all moments. Cell phone liquidates or SOMETHING to create the lubey-slippage that starts occurring -- not really lube but, yes. I dropped said phone. Not once, not twice but over five times. It was as if it no longer wanted to be near me – like it was escaping. Trying to talk on it after the fact was like trying to get phone reception in a coal mine. Thus, cell phone is now in cell graveyard.
Then yesterday the darling boyfriend and some friends were parked in the backyard. It was a beautiful day with great conversations and some great sippy wine. Nothing is wrong. No bees are trying to nail me. No birds are trying to poop on me. I am wearing my favorite long white skirt – you know, the kind that is long, cottony and flowing (yes, the kind women wear in tampax commercials). Fortunately, that wasn't the case, but I was getting up from the beautiful wood picnic table when I feel my arce area is attached to something. An eeny piece of material hinged itself around a piece of wood the size of a splinter and ripped the entire back of my skirt in the worst and most noticeable place.
I think I need an exorcist.
Don't sit too close, I might take your eye out.
P.S. Sunglass lens was found and cool shades are back intact!
It started over a month ago. Setting: Cinco de Mayo weekend -- I am at a fun and festive crawfish boil, drinking beers, ripping heads off of crawfish, jamming to some old school NOLA tunes and wearing the greatest and most expensive sunglasses that have ever donned my face. Not mine, but my darling boyfriends shades that he tells me look so great on me. (All fun and kidding aside, they are pretty effing cool)
Five hours later and too many beers over, a lens is MIA. Just fell out of my head. Darling boyfriend is not mad but completely stumped and befuddled as to how it fell out and where it went.
A week later, it is 5 a.m. on a Saturday. I have Great Neighbor with me. We are pulling out of my eeny Hollywood parking spot with all the glee a girl could muster as we were heading to Disneyland! As I was carefully and slowly pulling out of my spot, I get side-tracked by the Monster Truck in my garage. I look away for a hair strand and partially rip off my passenger side mirror, only to hit it again on a later date.
A week later, I am in Chicago with cell phone on me at all moments. Cell phone liquidates or SOMETHING to create the lubey-slippage that starts occurring -- not really lube but, yes. I dropped said phone. Not once, not twice but over five times. It was as if it no longer wanted to be near me – like it was escaping. Trying to talk on it after the fact was like trying to get phone reception in a coal mine. Thus, cell phone is now in cell graveyard.
Then yesterday the darling boyfriend and some friends were parked in the backyard. It was a beautiful day with great conversations and some great sippy wine. Nothing is wrong. No bees are trying to nail me. No birds are trying to poop on me. I am wearing my favorite long white skirt – you know, the kind that is long, cottony and flowing (yes, the kind women wear in tampax commercials). Fortunately, that wasn't the case, but I was getting up from the beautiful wood picnic table when I feel my arce area is attached to something. An eeny piece of material hinged itself around a piece of wood the size of a splinter and ripped the entire back of my skirt in the worst and most noticeable place.
I think I need an exorcist.
Don't sit too close, I might take your eye out.
P.S. Sunglass lens was found and cool shades are back intact!
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
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