A Personal History in Choking
Imagine. A crisp spring Arizona day. 2012. You go to a charter school because the public school system is so decrepit that your last school closed down. Now, drugs are dealt on your old playground and sometimes you jump high enough on your friend’s trampoline to watch it go down. But that’s besides the point.
You’re sitting in Mr. Jason’s class. And you’re thinking, why do we call him Mr. Jason? Jason is his first name. Every other teacher goes by their last name, what makes Mr. Jason special? You justify this with the fact that your kindergarten teacher’s name is Mr. Wright, and Mr. Jason’s last name is White, and obviously having a Mr. White and Mr. Wright at the same school is CRAZY TOWN, kids would get confused. Mr. Wright is directing Seussical Jr., and you’re stressed the eff out. You’re Mrs. Mayor. Your one song was cut and there is no reason to be stressed, but you’re a very anxious child.
So you’re sucking on a button that fell off the red-collared uniform you got from Kohl’s, naturally-
A breath.
The button is stuck. This will be the first instance of true blue choking in your life. A treacherous journey starts right here.
You’re very confused, not a breath to be had– what is even going on? You stand up. There are things to do if you start choking and you do not do any of them. Because you are ten.
Mr. Jason
Y/N, are you okay?
You grab your throat. He understands. Mr. Jason picks you up by the stomach. This is a very weird thing to do, but he takes you to the front of the class and begins the Heimlich maneuver. You stare at your fourth grade class. They are staring back. The Heimlich continues. You stare. You’re very scared and feel weird about what’s going on, but there’s not much else to do except stare. You’re not thinking about much, but you are confused. Doesn’t a button have holes? Shouldn’t you be able to breathe out of the holes? All this contemplating is not helping you breathe. Eventually Mr. Jason decides maybe this should be more of a private moment so he takes you outside. A few moments of aggressive force to the abdomen and the button flies out in a perfect arc.
Mr. Jason
What is that?
Y/N
A button.
Mr. Jason has never looked more disappointed in his life and he probably never will. You’re embarrassed.
Mr. Jason
Go to the nurse.
On your walk over, you imagine what could’ve gone down when Mr. Jason walked back into the classroom. A girl chokes and then she doesn’t come back? The only explanation is that she died. Like that girl just died, no? Did they continue their lesson on the water cycle? You’re very concerned. You walk to the nurse.
Y/N
Hi.
Nurse
How can I help you?
Y/N
I just choked on a button.
Nurse
Ok?
Pause.
Nurse
Are you okay?
Y/N
Yeah.
Nurse
Okay, so what do you want me to do?
Y/N
I don’t know, Mr. Jason just told me to come here.
Nurse
Ok. Go back to class.
And so you walk back. You hope she called your mom. She should probably know about this. Baby’s first near death experience.
Later that week, the school has an assembly and gives Mr. Jason an award for saving your life. They gather everyone in the quad. Mr. Jason is standing on stage and they give him a certificate. Everyone cheers. You’re pissed off. They don’t award you, invite you on stage, or even, at the very least, make any mention of you. Not a peep about the girl whose life he supposedly saved. I mean, if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t be getting an award. You are really the one to thank for all of this. That’s just annoying. Your fourth grade year continues, always on edge but safe from choking hazards for the time being.
A mere few months later. A cool summer day in Seattle, Washington. You’re at a wedding with your grandmother. It’s in a fancy event venue and everything. You love weddings and you love your grandmother. Next thing you know, you’re eating steak, she’s eating steak, your Aunt Linda is eating steak. And your grandmother is CHOKING.
You stand up. The reception is quiet. Pretty rude of grandma to distract from the matrimony of a cousin you don’t remember, but alas. No one is helping her. She grabs your grandfather’s hands and puts them in the correct position to perform the Heimlich. So much for men. She performs the Heimlich on herself, it is impressive. The steak flies out. You are too stunned to speak as your Aunt Linda laughs it off.
Aunt Linda
I was about to call the cops! Like, what are they gonna do?
The group laughs. You do not. Something sinister has occurred. Two instances of choking? You become fearful. On edge with every bite you take. From then on, your food is chewed to a pulp. You must have smited God in a past life to live through such a fate. You don’t choke or see another one choke for years.
2015. The heat of a Californian afternoon. It’s lunch time and you’re 14. For no discernable reason, your mother has decided she wants to make her own bread. It’s most likely a personal crisis of hers that you are unaware of because you are 14. No one else in the world matters when you are 14.
The bread is, to put it plainly, bad. But you eat it. And the day comes. The day comes where you choke once more. You’re sitting on the bench you sit at every day at lunch. The thick clump of dough becomes stuck. Not only is this evilness of the choke back but it's now incredibly embarrassing. You thought you had escaped, you were this close to letting the fear subside, but of course you were foolish to think it could ever truly end. Your friends laugh. This is probably the worst kind of hell imaginable. You stare at them in horror. Do they not understand you are dying? Are these people you’ve called your dearest friends for years actually psychopaths?
You have no time to ponder your friends’ true intentions or the embarrassment of choking in front of your middle school crush, an ugly boy named Michael, because despite the enemy of the choke following you for years, you have not learned how to perform the Heimlich on yourself. Thus, there is no solution here. You ponder your demise to the choke. Your friends are confused. They hit your back to no avail. You claw the bread out of the back of your throat and throw it on the ground. Your friends are disgusted. They go about their day but you do not.
You remember that the enemy is near. The enemy does not leave. Choking is a hazard you must never forget. You are certain that when your time comes, choking will be the calling card. You’re left with reminders as time goes on. A Tic Tac almost caught, a piece of food swallowed wrong. But you never choke. You know you're stronger now, more cautious.
But one day.
Someday.
The choke will come.