A Life and Death Story

Sean and I were sitting on the couch the other night and Dorothy was trying to subtly squeeze herself between us:  a typical night.  This meant that my body buffer zone was soon breached by bulldogge butt, since Dorothy always lies in the direction in which she can most easily gaze lovingly at her pack leader.  As I tried to waft the fumes in Sean’s direction, he wondered aloud why I had never written on my blog about the time he gallantly saved my life. 

I didn’t really have an answer for him, other than that the incident occurred in the month after Owen’s birth, a time both wonderful and horrible, and in which we were both getting to know our new tiny tyrant, as well as being busy forming an intimacy with certain wee small hours of the night that I for one would truthfully have been happy never to have met awake.

Plus it doesn’t really make for a good narrative.  But to give Sean his due, I was sitting innocently on the couch (I can’t pay the rent!), when I began choking on seemingly nothing (You must pay the rent!).  And not just cough cough, I can’t catch my breath, but more like whoosh! – all of a sudden I had absolutely no air in my lungs, nothing coming, nothing going, and I stood up and began to stagger in small circles, anticipating my imminent demise.  Sean had Owen in his arms, and once he realized what was happening, had to shove him onto the couch and then give me the heimlich (I'll pay the rent!).  Whatever was blocking my airway, was eventually cleared (My hero!).  And all was well, except that for the next few days I was scared to swallow.

It was really quite frightening.  But wasn’t that heroic of Sean?  I thought so and am grateful. 

But because I now told the story, I think that gives me the right to include here a photo which Sean isn’t too fond of, but I think hilarious.  Here he is in December photobombing a picture Susan was taking of Owen.

Funny, no?  But it gets better.  I texted the photo to Martha, and she and Henry reenacted the scene in a photo of their own:

Ha ha!  And then a few weeks ago I texted Martha a not very flattering similar photo of me and Owen:

And once again she and Henry reenacted the scene:

I’m sure Martha and Henry would be willing to reenact any photos of yourselves that you feel like sending her.  J