Choking at Lunch

I can't believe it's been since March that I added a blog entry.  I'm a terrible blogger.  But I guess -- if a blogger apologizes in the forest and no one reads it, did it really happen?

Occasionally, over the past few years, I have had trouble swallowing food.  Nothing major, just sometimes a piece of food will get caught in my esophagus, a feeling I find very uncomfortable, slightly panic-inducing.  As long as I have a beverage with which to wash it down, I'm fine.  But there have been times when I have had to jump up from the table and quickly open a 7up, trying hard to look like nothing is wrong.

A few years ago I went to see my GP about it, and he ordered some tests, one of which was to drink a horrible chalky barium drink while x-rays (or mri or something) were taken.  The diagnosis was nothing more than inflammation of the esophagus and the valve that leads to the stomach.  He prescribed something for me, which I was to use as needed.  A few years ago he told me I could just buy Prilosec over the counter.  Problem solved?

Lately the symptoms have returned, although in a minor, non-concerning way.  I just occasionally get something stuck.  I'm always able to wash it down.

Cut to: today Ellen and I had lunch with our friend Doug Segal.  He's always a fun date, very easy to talk to, good storyteller.  He regaled us with the saga of his nascent screenwriting career, and of directing the annual all-school show at his kids' school (a harrowing tale).  But after a few bites of my rotisserie chicken, a piece stuck.  I do not in any way blame this on Doug's story.  I tried swallowing, but it wouldn't go down.  I immediately took a sip of my lemonade, but it STILL wouldn't go down.  I could feel the cold lemonade sitting in my esophagus on top of the lodged piece of chicken as I tried quickly, over and over again, with a rising level of alarm, to swallow.  But no dice.  I tried coughing it up, still no go, but I did sort of spit up the lemonade onto my plate.  I think this got Doug and Ellen's attention.

Then I tried to breathe, and realized I couldn't.  I attempted to inhale, but got nothing more than a little bit of air, generating an alarming rasping sound as I sucked in as hard as I could. For better or worse, Mo's is a loud restaurant, and no one else notices.  But as if to echo my rising panic I stand up, laboring to breathe, with (Ellen told me later) a bright red face.  Doug and Ellen are staring with some concern at me while I continue my desperate but vain attempts breathe and swallow.  Ellen asks, "heimlich?" and I nod hurriedly yes, please.  She jumps up, gets behind me and squeezes once -- nothing.  Then another squeeze, and I finally swallow the recalcitrant chicken morsel.  Whew!  I take in a nice generous supply of air, sit down, cough many times, but I am fine.  Ellen looks more relieved than I do.

After a brief moment to make sure I am OK, conversation starts up again.  To be polite, I continue to pick at my vegetables, until I remember that I had very recently spit up lemonade on them.

But this kind of choking episode has never happened to me before.

Wait -- yes it has.  I remember at maybe age 12, putting WAY too big a wad of spaghetti, covered with only dry grated parmesan, into my mouth and it getting stuck.  I don't remember anyone having to give me the heimlich, I think I just finally spit it out, but I have a strong memory of the dog starting to eat the ball of spaghetti before being shooed away.  No, Whiskey!

Anyway, because of this near-death experience, I have decided to completely change my life and devote myself to helping those less fortunate than I.

Wait -- no -- that's not right.  I think I'll just take a nap and sleep it off.