A few days ago, I was making one of our families favorite quick lunches when I almost died. Granted, it would have been a long and slow death. I likely would have held on for years before succumbing to infection. But I was close.
My recipe for death, er, potato burritos:
Dice several potatoes and half an onion. Fry in a mess of butter. Add several eggs when almost finished. Stir and serve in tortillas.
While frying, I sampled the potatoes. Because you have to make sure they are just right, not because I like buttery, salty and peppery potatoes or anything. Besides, sampling is the chef's natural right in our house. Everyone else gets fingers swatted by a spatula.
Mid sample, I sneezed. Normally, that results in the opposite problem to what happened here. Here, the potato got sucked back into my lungs and started a fit of coughing. I finally went and sat down on the couch with my face reddenend and tears in my eyes. Between hacks, I informed my husband that when I finally went to the hospital and they inserted a tube straight through my throat to clear the liquid out of my lungs to please ask them to remove the potato.
'Cause I saw a movie once where the exact same thing happened to a kid. Except for him it was a nut and the staff didn't believe him and it was a problem for years and he almost died before the nut was finally removed.
I didn't want that to happen to me.
My sweet little two year old held my hand and told me I was going to be ok. She even kissed me all better. Except that didn't work very well. I kept coughing. I tried to stop, just to give myself a break because coughing was starting to hurt worse than the burning sensation in my lungs. I was also amazed at the amount of mucus I was suddenly producing. I know that is kind of gross, but it was fascinating. Your body immediately takes defensive measures to protect itself, even if they are annoying and gross measures.
And then, after all that coughing and wondering if it was indeed possible to cough up a lung, I made just one little one. Like one of those polite little coughs you do when you are trying not to cough but cannot help it. And up came the potato.
It feels really good to not have a potato in my lungs. I realize now how much I took it for granted, that feeling of not having a potato in my lungs. Now I appreciate and even savor that sensation. I can breathe. It doesn't hurt. In fact, I can go on about my day not really even thinking about the fact that I even have lungs. They go on about their business even while I ignore them. That is the way things should be and I'm glad of it.
My recipe for death, er, potato burritos:
Dice several potatoes and half an onion. Fry in a mess of butter. Add several eggs when almost finished. Stir and serve in tortillas.
While frying, I sampled the potatoes. Because you have to make sure they are just right, not because I like buttery, salty and peppery potatoes or anything. Besides, sampling is the chef's natural right in our house. Everyone else gets fingers swatted by a spatula.
Mid sample, I sneezed. Normally, that results in the opposite problem to what happened here. Here, the potato got sucked back into my lungs and started a fit of coughing. I finally went and sat down on the couch with my face reddenend and tears in my eyes. Between hacks, I informed my husband that when I finally went to the hospital and they inserted a tube straight through my throat to clear the liquid out of my lungs to please ask them to remove the potato.
'Cause I saw a movie once where the exact same thing happened to a kid. Except for him it was a nut and the staff didn't believe him and it was a problem for years and he almost died before the nut was finally removed.
I didn't want that to happen to me.
My sweet little two year old held my hand and told me I was going to be ok. She even kissed me all better. Except that didn't work very well. I kept coughing. I tried to stop, just to give myself a break because coughing was starting to hurt worse than the burning sensation in my lungs. I was also amazed at the amount of mucus I was suddenly producing. I know that is kind of gross, but it was fascinating. Your body immediately takes defensive measures to protect itself, even if they are annoying and gross measures.
And then, after all that coughing and wondering if it was indeed possible to cough up a lung, I made just one little one. Like one of those polite little coughs you do when you are trying not to cough but cannot help it. And up came the potato.
It feels really good to not have a potato in my lungs. I realize now how much I took it for granted, that feeling of not having a potato in my lungs. Now I appreciate and even savor that sensation. I can breathe. It doesn't hurt. In fact, I can go on about my day not really even thinking about the fact that I even have lungs. They go on about their business even while I ignore them. That is the way things should be and I'm glad of it.
