My life as I once knew it is over. Most often, in our lives, we don’t notice change. Mostly change takes place much the same way we put on weight or turn grey – one little bit at a time. We don’t see it as it happens but one day we wake up to an old person in the mirror with an ass the size of Cleveland.
Every so often, once in a blue moon, most rarely, we are able to point to a time, a day, a moment when our lives changed on a dime. When everything we once knew failed to be and we had to learn to live with something new, something different, something we never expected to have to live with. And for me, March 24, 2006 is one of those days.
At dinner I got a nut caught in my throat and it will never come out.
A couple of hours ago I would have said it may never come out. An hour before that I would have said it will come out. But after what I’ve been through in the course of this evening, I know this nut and I are together for life.
It started out like this: I ordered the Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp at the Cheesecake Factory. It’s a good dish. Like usual I made a few changes. But I did not tell them to leave off the nuts – I didn’t know they would be setting up residence in my windpipe or I would have. On the first bite – the FIRST BITE – I little tiny chopped nut decided to abandon his friends heading for the great abyss that is my tummy and instead to stick somewhere in the back of my throat. I reacted calmly at first. I swallowed hard. I then gave a slight hmm hmmmmgh. It did not move.
I then tried the next obvious course of action – I took a drink of my diet coke. Nothing. Then I coughed. Twice. Loudly. “I’ve got a nut caught.” I said to The Husband. “Mmm” he said and continued to tuck into his fish tacos. Next there was an exchange with the waitress because my Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp didn’t have any Shrimp and soon the manager came by to apologize and then eventually my order was corrected and the nut stayed on.
Bread didn’t work.
Coughing didn’t work.
A discreet gargle didn’t work.
“What am I going to do??” I asked, toward the end of dinner now somewhat desperate. “We could put some ice cream on it” suggested The Husband. Which, I have to tell you, is his cure for most things,
“I have a headache.” “Put some ice cream on it”
“I stubbed my toe!” “Sounds like you need ice cream.”
“I can’t find the client folder!” “Have you looked at the ice cream store?”
This time, however, I do have to say it sounded like a good idea. Maybe ice cream would somehow dislodge the nut. So we paid our bill, skipped the cheesecake and headed to Culvers. On the way there I tried every cough and clearing the throat technique you can imagine. I nearly drove off the road. I apologized profusely because I have to say even I was getting grossed out by the hacking. The Husband assured me that I should do whatever I could. “Go for it, babe, do what you need to.”
What I needed to do sounded much like what I would imagine the smoking section at a tuberculosis convention would sound like. And also, did no good.
By the time we got to Culver’s I was angry. I flipped down the visor and flipped open the mirror. I grabbed my purse and dug until I found a pen. A Missouri Bank pen to be exact. I opened my mouth and began randomly poking myself in the back of my throat. This technique may seem like a good idea. It really wasn’t. Besides, I couldn’t see what I was poking at. I instructed the husband to find that flashlight thingy I have in my purse and glory be, he did. He also found the camera and while I used the light and the pen to try to convince the nut to come out, he snapped a couple nice shots of me. Flattering indeed.
The story only gets more bizarre. Keep in mind, this was done in all seriousness. I became convinced that if I could just get my tongue out of the way, I could find the offending nut and remove it. “I need one of those tongue depressor things,” I said. Which actually sounded like “I eed un ah ose ung duhessor ings” but, shockingly enough, The Husband understood and handed me a paint stir stick. Yes. A paint stir stick. It was in my purse. I’ve told you before, I carry a large bag. Maybe now you’ll believe me.
What ensued next was a conversation between me and The Hub where I tried to convince him to look down my throat. It took some pleading but not as much as I would have thought and soon enough he was pushing my tongue aside with an paint stick covered in apple green latex paint and staring down my big fat gate.
“I don’t see it.”
“How can you not see it???” I wailed
“Uh, because, uh … because I can’t!”
Next I tried to investigated myself. And, well, I’ll spare you the details but just suffice it to say the tongue depressor, Missouri Bank pen, purse light combo did not work. I gave up and threw the tools back into my purse. “Let’s just try the ice cream,” I said “maybe the nut will get lodged in some fudge and it will pull it down my gullet.”
I have to say, there are many things I love about my husband. One of them is that he didn’t say at this point, or at any other, “OH ENOUGH ABOUT THE NUT!” Instead, he strategized with me on the way into the ice cream place. “Maybe if you gulp it really fast,” he said, “maybe the bulkiness will help.”
“Maybe,” I said, “or maybe I should try something that dissolves nuts. Can you think of what that would be?” I said
“Uh, not really.”
Then it hit me, “You know what I need? I need like something I could swallow but like something on a string so I could sort of pull it out or something.”
(You will absolutely love this next part)
“Like a tampon?” The Husband says
And I, without really thinking about it, said “Exactly!” Now, please know, I wasn’t really in my right mind but I do have to say I think it would work really well. For obvious reasons, however, that option was eliminated from the list. Which is a shame because since the ice cream didn’t work either, my options were running out.
All the way home we discussed options. Gargling was on the top of the list. Right up there was a visit to the emergency room and a self imposed tracheotomy. Any of these options seemed better than living with half a peanut in my throat. You can imagine how well I was handling this about this time
“This is TERRIBLE”
“Why do these things happen to me???”
“This really can’t get worse!”
It’s the last one that I never should have said. As soon as we got home I headed to the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush. I then went to the kitchen to get a glass and get some warm water. I started the gargle/toothbrush in the back of the throat technique. I could hear The Husband in the other room, still trying – god bless him – to come up with options, “maybe go lay down and try to relax.” Now, come on. Relax was not going to work. I was convinced the only thing that WOULD work was removing it by force. And I was ready. I was standing at the sink with the water running. I had a glass of water in one hand and a pink toothbrush in the other and halfway down my throat. That’s when I learned something about the human body. Apparently when a person gags, they lose control of other functions.
I wet my pants.
I’ve now given up.
Nut = 1, Jenne = 0
