WHAT I COULDN'T SWALLOW

wds.1222

WHAT I COULDN’T SWALLOW

Today’s the day I change.

            After thirty years of having this irrational, debilitating affliction, I decided, and with the help of many years of therapy, to grab it by its throat and choke it out of me.

           Funny, I should use that wordage since that was the crux of it—a significantly strong fear of swallowing and choking which followed me through all my years. It was a terrible feeling of dread, thinking food with bones would stick in my throat and pills as well. I would crush them, putting them in applesauce so I could safely get them down. Fish, chicken, even tuna, was a no, no. My mother would scream, saying I was crazy and nothing was stuck in my throat, while my father would slam his fist on the table and yell: EAT!         So I’d sit in front of a plate, poking the food, trying to extricate any bones from its contents. It made a mess and was a source of embarrassment. Needless to say, I was quite skinny and clothes hung on me as if on a hanger.

           Now, at thirty-two, and with a new boyfriend, I decided it’s time. I would change my life, start enjoying the food I had missed and eat with gusto, relish in the things I had missed. Ironically, he was a fisherman and always ordered a seafood meal. I had tried to hide this fear from him and when we ate out ordered things like scrambled eggs, mushy potatoes, grilled cheese, soup, etc., to which he would say, “Hey, why not live it up—it’s my dollar!” And I’d laugh and say “I’m fine, really I am.” He’d look puzzled but not question me any further.

           Since he was coming today, I took some fish fillets out from the refrigerator. Yes, today I decided it was time. I would prepare fish for him, delicious flounder I made sure the butcher filleted extra carefully. I slid my fingers over it many times, making sure  nothing felt sharp and then marinated it in garlic and lemon, dusting it with a coating of flour. At about three I heated a pan with oil and with shaking hands dropped it in. I heard it sizzle and it began to smell quite good. I prepared some mashed potatoes, and boiled carrots to go on the side. Could I really eat it? I thought to myself, and could feel a slight flip flopping in my chest. Stop it! I commanded in my head, You’re going to do this! You must!

           I went upstairs to fix my hair, which was always a frizzy mop, straightening it with my curling iron and put on some lipstick. I surveyed myself in the mirror and thought, I don’t’ look too bad…and, eventually, with a few extra pounds…

           The doorbell rang. John was here. I was sweating slightly under my arms and sprayed myself liberally with Shalmar. He was holding a bottle of wine and a box of bakery cookies. “Thanks,” I said and kissed him on the cheek. He grabbed me and hugged me so tightly I thought my frail bones would snap. 

           “What smells so good?”

           “Besides your after-shave?” I asked. He smiled. I loved his smile. It was wide,

revealing a mouth of perfectly shaped teeth, something I had always yearned for.

           “Fish,” I answered, proud of myself.

           “Wow! What kind? You know how much I love it.”

           “Flounder.”

           “My favorite.” He opened the wine and a poured a glass for each of us.

            I sipped it slowly since I had taken a Valium earlier and was afraid the combination might be too sedating. But, hell, I was so wired, I probably could have mashed it into the wine and still be on edge. The table was set and I told him to sit down, that it would be ready shortly. I took the fish out and put it on a paper towel. I stared at it and thought: I hate you, I really do, but I’m doing this for John. No, for me. I’m doing this for me.

           “It looks wonderful,” he said. “Do you eat it often?”

           “Well, actually…I’ve never really had it?”

           “Really? You don’t know what you’re missing.”

           “Hmmm.” I put a hefty piece with the sides on his plate and a tiny piece on mine.

           Was I really going to do this? Really? Actually, there was no way out now.

           He took a bite. “Hmm,” he said, “Delicious.” 

           Hesitantly, I put a small piece in my mouth, biting it slowly. He was right. It was delicious.  “It’s really very good,” I said and, hesitantly, took another bite. I was feeling like a school kid who had just gotten an A on an assignment. And thought, Oh my god, what have I been doing to myself all these years?” It was then that I heard it—it was coming from John. A choking sound, as if he couldn’t get any air into him. He was trying very hard to clear his throat. I jumped up in panic. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He was pointing at his throat and trying to speak. Odd sounds were coming out of his mouth and his face had turned a pale purple.

           “John! John!” I cried. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Even though I knew. Oh my god, he had swallowed a bone. I was trying to steady myself and ran over to him, wrapping my skinny arms around his middle and pushed upward, trying to do the Heimlich but I wasn’t strong enough. Quickly, I picked up the cell phone and pressed the 911 number. “Hurry,” I cried, giving them my address. “My boyfriend—he’s choking. “Hurry!”

           John looked as if he had passed out. I was crying and shaking and pressing at his throat, pushing upward to dislodge the culprit. “John, John, forgive me…” And I kissed him on his forehead, my tears running down into his eyes. By now two paramedics had come and the door was open so they rushed in. I told them what had happened and one of them took a long, skinny scope out of his bag. Quickly, he slid it down John’s throat and moved it slowly around. He did it a couple of times before he pulled it and at the end of the hook, was a small curved bone. “Wow,” the medic said, “that was a close call.”

John opened his eyes and began to cough. “Good,” the medic said, and gave him a glass of water. “Drink, slowly, but try to finish it all.” John smiled weakly and began drinking.

           “Thanks, thanks for saving my life.”

           “That’s my job,” the medic said. “Now take it easy and drink lots of fluid.” And after getting a beep on their phone, he and his partner were gone.

           “John, I’m so sorry.” I put my arms around him.

           “Don’t be silly, it’s not your fault.” Then I took the plates and dumped it all into the garbage.

           “No, don’t waste all of it.”

           I couldn’t believe he was saying that. “Are you crazy? You could have…died.”

           “That’s the chance we take by living.” he answered and took me into his arms.

           I knew only one thing. Today, no, today was not the day I was going to change.