You know what scares me about living alone? My potential to choke on something and die without being able to do something about it.
You don't know this about me but I have a propensity toward choking on things. Or at least to think I'm choking on things. It's genetic. I'm not kidding. My Dad and I both get stuff caught in our throats now and then. With me it's melted cheese or food that is long. I have moments of panic when I feel part of the food still in my mouth while the rest of it is going down my throat. The worst was when I was in Spain and I was eating a piece of calamari. The ring had been bitten in half but there was a piece of, for lack of a better word, sinew that connected the two halves together. I swallowed and realized I had a piece of calamari dangling in the back of my throat stuck to the one still in my mouth. Once I established that I was not in imminent danger, i.e. that I was still able to breathe, I tried to unobtrusively extricate the offending morsels from my maw. The two women I was with continued their conversation until I had almost removed it and they finally noticed that I had my hand halfway down my throat. Anyway, I obviously lived to tell the tale.
Well that was a completely asinine story. But it's something I think about on a fairly regular basis. I often look around my apartment to see what I could use to perform a self-hiemlich. Don't look at me like that. You know you have some stupid thing you think about and plan for too. Perhaps something like a nuclear holicaust or bird flu that will make it impossible to get food so you have a stock pile of Chef Boyardee and Dasani in a closet somewhere. Or perhaps you know the exact things you would grab in a fire and how you would swing down off the roof making sure to avoid the neighbor's grill and lawn tools. Or what you would grab as a weapon in the case of a break-in. I must say I am fairly unprepared in that scenario. Besides a lamp and maybe some Aquanet there is little between me in my bedroom/bathroom and an intruder. Perhaps I should get me some andirons, you know, just in case.
You don't know this about me but I have a propensity toward choking on things. Or at least to think I'm choking on things. It's genetic. I'm not kidding. My Dad and I both get stuff caught in our throats now and then. With me it's melted cheese or food that is long. I have moments of panic when I feel part of the food still in my mouth while the rest of it is going down my throat. The worst was when I was in Spain and I was eating a piece of calamari. The ring had been bitten in half but there was a piece of, for lack of a better word, sinew that connected the two halves together. I swallowed and realized I had a piece of calamari dangling in the back of my throat stuck to the one still in my mouth. Once I established that I was not in imminent danger, i.e. that I was still able to breathe, I tried to unobtrusively extricate the offending morsels from my maw. The two women I was with continued their conversation until I had almost removed it and they finally noticed that I had my hand halfway down my throat. Anyway, I obviously lived to tell the tale.
Well that was a completely asinine story. But it's something I think about on a fairly regular basis. I often look around my apartment to see what I could use to perform a self-hiemlich. Don't look at me like that. You know you have some stupid thing you think about and plan for too. Perhaps something like a nuclear holicaust or bird flu that will make it impossible to get food so you have a stock pile of Chef Boyardee and Dasani in a closet somewhere. Or perhaps you know the exact things you would grab in a fire and how you would swing down off the roof making sure to avoid the neighbor's grill and lawn tools. Or what you would grab as a weapon in the case of a break-in. I must say I am fairly unprepared in that scenario. Besides a lamp and maybe some Aquanet there is little between me in my bedroom/bathroom and an intruder. Perhaps I should get me some andirons, you know, just in case.
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