Last Saturday marked a milestone of sorts. It was the tenth anniversary
of the night that I had a myocardial infarction that put me in a Washington DC
hospital for a week. I have always considered it my third near death encounter
and, in fact, the first doctor who attended me in Frederick, Maryland had
pretty much written me off, too, even though he ordered a helicopter life
flight for me.
Since I went through Frederick Saturday on my way to my son's house, I had occasion to recall that momentous night and the week that followed. I felt good to have survived so long beyond that time, and I mentioned it to Judy and Brad Saturday night. I should have known that it would be a jinx on me.
Sunday morning we were having our morning cup of coffee in the living room. I had just taken a good sip and prepared to swallow it when, for some unknown reason, the coffee entered my windpipe instead of my trachea. You know what happened next.
I stood while choking and Judy tried to pound my back, but before she could even begin, I lost consciousness and fell into the Christmas tree. Fortunately, the tree stayed up, but there I lay partly beneath it (so I was told).
It took both Judy and Brad to roll me over and lift me enough for Brad to perform a Heimlich Maneuver on me. It took over a minute for me to come around, and then I spent the rest of the day trying to dislodge the rest of the fluid. Then we all lost most of our sleep Sunday night; me attempting to find a position that would allow me to breathe, and the two of them checking on my status.
Two days after the incident all seemed well and recovered. That included my bruised right buttock--from falling on several of the presents under the tree--and Brad's pulled leg muscle, which was a result of lifting 205 pounds of dead weight off the floor. None of the gifts suffered any harm, though I can't imagine why not.
Since I went through Frederick Saturday on my way to my son's house, I had occasion to recall that momentous night and the week that followed. I felt good to have survived so long beyond that time, and I mentioned it to Judy and Brad Saturday night. I should have known that it would be a jinx on me.
Sunday morning we were having our morning cup of coffee in the living room. I had just taken a good sip and prepared to swallow it when, for some unknown reason, the coffee entered my windpipe instead of my trachea. You know what happened next.
I stood while choking and Judy tried to pound my back, but before she could even begin, I lost consciousness and fell into the Christmas tree. Fortunately, the tree stayed up, but there I lay partly beneath it (so I was told).
It took both Judy and Brad to roll me over and lift me enough for Brad to perform a Heimlich Maneuver on me. It took over a minute for me to come around, and then I spent the rest of the day trying to dislodge the rest of the fluid. Then we all lost most of our sleep Sunday night; me attempting to find a position that would allow me to breathe, and the two of them checking on my status.
Two days after the incident all seemed well and recovered. That included my bruised right buttock--from falling on several of the presents under the tree--and Brad's pulled leg muscle, which was a result of lifting 205 pounds of dead weight off the floor. None of the gifts suffered any harm, though I can't imagine why not.
All seemed well, but that was not entirely the case. On Thursday Judy and I started our trip home
from Maryland. We stopped for the night in Hillsville. Virginia. By the time we arrived at our hotel there, I
was doing a lot of coughing and didn't feel well enough to go out to
dinner. Matters only got worse the
following day. The coughing came in
waves, and I couldn't get a deep breath.
When we got home I started a series of long bouts of non-productive
coughing followed by short quiet periods.
I was unable to recline my body, so I spent the night in my TV chair
with a pillow propped behind my head.
Needless to relate, it was not a sleep-filled night for either of us.
We went to our Primary Care Center first thing Saturday morning. The doctor prescribed three medications. He listened to my lungs and had a chest
X-ray taken, both of which were negative for pneumonia, Thank God. The meds are beginning to take effect, and
I'm beginning to feel a lot better.
Maybe I'll even make a full recovery.
So now I have used up my fourth life. If I were a cat,
I'd have five more to go, but I don't know if I can keep this up. After
all, it is pretty traumatic for all involved. At any rate, I am still
around to wish you a happy and prosperous 2016.
