August 22nd, 2013
I've been choking on my food lately and don't know what is happening. This must be a single-parent phenomenon because taking food into my stomach had never been such an issue my whole life before I had the kids. It has only happened now that I am alone, caring for the boys. Just the other day, I almost fucking died by choking to death, and not one person helped me when I practically inhaled a sandwich.
I sat down for lunch during my lunch hour. And this time, I was alone with no kids or other people at my table. I try to savor any food when I eat alone because I usually can't enjoy it when I'm with Nico (the oldest son at 5 and Christopher, the baby at 3).
I took my time and ordered off the menu, enjoying the lack of planning I usually have to do. This time, I was getting an appetizer that was just from me. Peel and eat shrimp. Which I could never order with the boys present. The shrimp came to my table, 12 in all, and they were nicely spread out over ice cubes that were evenly laid in a huge-diameter bowl. This dish was garnished with parsley, lemon, and cocktail sauce on the sides. I couldn't wait to dig in.
I slowly and methodically peeled the first shrimp. I held the central tail with my thumb and index finger. Pulled off the tail and skinned the shell off the remainder of its body. I dunked the cooked shrimp in a cocktail sauce mixed with lemon. It was a heavenly treat that was mine to enjoy.
If the boys were at my lunch, I could never have indulged in such a treat out of fear of all the shrimp residue clinging to my hands. Trying to keep the boys within arm's reach would have been disastrous because their shirts would have been covered in the shrimp skeleton from my constant grabbing at them to place them back in their seats.
After devouring the shrimp, which tasted better to me than any fish in the sea that would seek this treat out from a fisherman's hook, I ordered the dolphin (Maui Maui) sandwich, which was baked. I ordered a baked potato. I couldn't wait. This was my every other weekend delight since I work every other weekend.
I usually go to a local restaurant during my lunch hour to enjoy a quiet meal that is quiet to me. Sometimes, I feel guilty about enjoying a fine meal without my children. Still, I have learned to love the place and quiet during my meal, and the food tastes so much better when I'm alone to enjoy it. Hell, I think the food tastes a little better at times when I'm alone.
I have it worked out to a science so that when the main course arrives, I'll finish my appetizer so it's hot and fresh when I dive right into it. My salvia glands know it's a hot meal, and I can feel them working overtime because of the flow of it accumulating in my mouth. I rarely get a hot meal, and my body knows it.
For some reason, I didn't savor the taste of this meal. I tried to woof it down without hesitation. It could be a habit I have become accustomed to now by rushing down my food before my kids finish theirs. You see when I run around the house preparing their meal and getting them settled down to eat. After feeding the dogs, I'll head to the kitchen, stand by the stove, and practically inhale my food without sitting at the table. No tasting it, no time for the burns in my mouth, just consuming the fuel to keep me going. And this is when I choke slightly all the time!
I have taken a bite of food multiple times, and it would find its way down my windpipe. I'll start to cough uncontrollably, but usually, I'll manage to work it out. Like clockwork, I'll continue on with my connoisseur rampage. But this day at the restaurant, I almost didn't recover.
I took a huge bite of my fish sandwich today and practically inhaled every crumb that tried to escape my wrath. My deep bite tore off a fold of bread. I am a carnivorous animal in the wild. But immediately, I couldn't breathe. My bite was so big I began to choke on the delicious food. I gasped for air, but there was none to rush in; my esophagus was closed off. I clutched the sides of my table, bracing myself from falling over. I tried to cough it out of my airway, but nothing. I was afraid it was stuck, I tried to think. I couldn't ask for help because I couldn't talk. I quickly thought of the international sign of choking and thought I grabbed my neck. But I was in police uniform and thought that would be embarrassing. So, dying was the alternative?
Tears of water streamed from my eyes. I didn't know what to do. I frantically looked around, looking for help, hoping someone had answers to my predicament. However, no one was paying attention. Everyone was enjoying the company in which they kept. They were eating their food, enjoying their spirits. I was screwed.
I closed my eyes and took a breath of air through my nose. AIR! I could breathe. I opened my mouth but still couldn't get air in my body that way. The fresh oxygen to my brain that breathed through my nose provided me time to think more clearly. I told myself. Breathe in and out through your nose. There you go. In and out. In and out. Nice and calm
After 30 seconds, my oxygen levels began to return to normal. The blockage in my throat cleared. I could be normal again. Not one person looked my way the entire time. But I didn't care. I could breathe.
"Could I get you a refill," the waitress said.
"No,' I said with a raspy voice. "The check, please."
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes, the food is so good, it made me cry," I said.
The waitress began to laugh and walked away.
I sat in the seat and wondered how my food habits turned so deadly. However, I had little time to reflect on my incident since lunch was dwindling. I had a whole sandwich to devour before I had to get back to work.
You hear of sports figures choking in the big games. I never knew my eating habits would be such a hazard to myself, causing me to choke on the big stage. Bon appetite.
1,122 words.
Written on Auguest 21st, 2013
Published on August 21st, 2013
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