Capped Off

People tend to live their lives as immortals. There is always a tomorrow, always going to be a today with twenty-four hours, and seven days a week and another year. Death happens to someone else, it gets shelved in the business of living; an appointment not thought about willingly.

I once wrote
“You may knock on the door of Death and it may or may not answer. When Death knocks upon your door, you will always answer”.

On one particular occasion Death decided to pay a visit and peep through the window and watch proceedings.

My Father has a passion for toffee as well as humbugs. Whenever someone goes so the seaside it is either a jar of humbugs or a box of toffee, which they bring back.

I do not recall how old I was, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, which is probably a reflection of how un-dramatic the incident was at the time but I remember the situation well.

My Father was out as well as my sister and I was in the house at Gilbertstone alone. Dad’s box of toffee was resting on the floor to the left of the end seat on the settle closest to the computer table. Being cheeky, I thought I would help myself to a piece. No one would know.

A soon as I swallowed, I knew something was wrong. It is that micro second before something happens, where some instinct inside you sparks to tell you what is coming but not early enough to avoid it.

When I swallowed the large piece of toffee I had not chewed down properly became lodged. I could feel it like an oversized brick stuck in a drainpipe and I could feel the swell of my throat to accommodate it. It was slightly painful.

Then I realised I could not breathe.

It is the strangest of feelings. You spend your life breathing, you might get out of breath, hold your breath or get clogged up with a cold and find it hard but you know you can and will still breathe. Standing in the living room, I might as well have been standing on the moon. There was no air. Nothing. My air had been capped off.

The oddity seized me for a second. I tried breathing through my nose, nothing. The oddness of feeling spiked. I tried my mouth. Nothing. Oddity vanished and a spike of fear rose throughout my body for a second before disappearing, the situation was serious. I did not have time to fuck about with fear the clock was ticking, action was needed and every split second counted.

I knew I was alone, no idea when someone would return, if I wanted to get out of the situation I had to find a way myself. There was no life flashing before the eyes or similar thoughts. This was a do or die situation and I was not going to be found spread out on the carpet having been killed by a piece of god dam toffee if I could help it.

I gave my chest a hefty thump with my fist and growled as you do when you are reaching deep down to clear your throat of mucus. No difference. Not even the slightest bit of movement. I moved swiftly on.

Why I did it, I have no idea but I dropped to my knees then onto all fours, head faced down flexing my chest and throat, which must have looked like a human version of a cat trying to bring up a hairball, all be in silently.

A spark of, “What the fuck are you doing?” while doing another flex.

When your life is on the line seconds are both years and micro seconds how long it took I have no idea but I felt the toffee slip, it was free and I felt it sink jutting the walls of my throat and down into my chest until I could not feel it anymore. As quick as it had started it was over.

I moved back to kneel on the carpet, savoured the sensation of breathing for a second before getting back up; deciding Death had changed it’s mind and I went back to what I was doing before I had taken the piece of toffee unperturbed at my close shave.