On Saturday I nearly died (see if you can beat that with your five-aside football and your trip to Ikea and your barbecue). It was food-related, of course. I choked on a piece of French bread (unsalted butter, nice piece of ham). I immediately stopped breathing and started panicking. Breathing was off the agenda.
I stood at the sink making a noise like a distressed seal or a blocked hoover (or a fat bloke chocking on his lunch). Juliet, who thought I was joking, attempted a comedy Heimlich Manoeuvre. Pretty soon, having figured out that I was actually choking (I was going a funny colour and still making that honking noise), she attempted a real Heimlich Manoeuvre (which, funnily enough, was exactly the same as the comedy one).
She also hit me as hard as she could on the back a lot (I have bruises). It worked. I am here to testify that I have spoken while eating for the last time. Don’t try to have a conversation with me while I’m eating. Forget it. You’ll get no reply. I’m chewing.
What I found most interesting about the whole episode (afterwards, of course) was the sheer amount of thinking I was able to do while standing there going blue. I thought about dying – obviously – about leaving my family, about not really being ready to go, about being underinsured, about not wanting to die on the kitchen floor, about how much I love my wife…
I guess it’s not the information that matters, though. It’s what you do with it…
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