My Mom Almost Accidentally Became New Hampshire’s Latest Killer Because of Me
I'm not sure "killer" was ever anything my mother planned on having on her resume, and thankfully her resume will stay without it appearing on there, but it got pretty dicey last night, and her victim was someone quite close to her and in her bloodline -- me.
Grey's Anatomy and Station 19
The situation started out innocent enough. Mom and I have this tradition dating all the way back to when I was on break from college for whatever reason, that on Thursday nights we'd watch the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy. I ended up getting drawn into it while watching it for an internship (true story, not an exaggeration), and since my Mom works in the medical field, it was a natural fit that she'd be into it.
The tradition grew a bit when Station 19 started doing lots of crossover events with Grey's, so we'd tend to start catching both shows just to stay with the natural progression of storylines on both shows. What's the point of telling you all this? I snagged some popcorn for last night's "double feature" because, well, why not?
The bag was placed between us and we took turns dipping in for a handful. And that's when it happened. An accidental, not-at-all-cold-blooded, "oopsie" of a murder.
Generally, when someone is choking, you check for signs to evaluate the situation and whether or not you need to perform the Heimlich, right? Just to be clear, the Heimlich maneuver, according to Merriam-Webster, is defined as "the manual application of sudden upward pressure on the upper abdomen of a choking victim to force a foreign object from the trachea." Apparently, my mother has a totally different dictionary with a totally different definition.
After shoveling quite possibly my 867th handful of popcorn to my face, as happens sometimes, one kernel decided to channel its inner rebel and breakaway from the pack, getting sucked halfway down my windpipe or, in essence, "going down the wrong pipe." Was I choking? No. Was I coughing like a 147-year-old person who had been chain-smoking for 145 of those years? Yup. Did my mother know the difference? Not at all.
Worried for my safety and that I was choking, my Mom sprung into action with her version of the Heimlich -- the version she must've learned from this unknown dictionary of hers, which simply instructed her to do one thing -- at the top of her lungs, yell one word.
Unable to respond, I just kept coughing up a storm, but in my head, my response was, "Excuse me?" But thankfully, determined to save her baby boy from the grips of the Grim Reaper, she gave another, more assertive attempt at her Heimlich.
(For the record, I'm almost in tears from laughter while typing this right now, recounting this whole entire experience.)
When I finally regained control of my lungs, esophagus, trachea -- whatever the heck was invaded by that alien popcorn kernel, the first immediate thing I could do was thank my heroic parent for saving my life -- by telling her that it comforted me that the next type I should actually be choking, she would be commanding the Lord, the Grim Reaper, whoever would come for me, to be gentle in taking my soul across the rainbow bridge, and to be "EASYYYY!!!" with it.
Thankfully, on October 7, 2021, death was averted and my Mom remained clear of being added to America's Most Wanted list. I'm also thankful for the 4 abs that were created from the nonstop, breathtaking laughter that followed for a solid 10 minutes.
Cherish your parents, guardians, or anyone that's acted like a parent to you while you can, friends, and the time that you're able to spend with them. And, for the love of God, never start choking around my mother.