It was a saturday afternoon when my dad walked in yelling “start packing, we move today” then he left.
I was fifteen years old.
We stared at each other wondering what had just happened. We knew this day would come, we were just not expecting it would be so sudden and chaotic.
Some thirty minutes later my dad came back carrying a few empty boxes. As my uncle was parking his truck outside my two cousins jumped off the bed of the truck.
Soon after, our house flooded with people. Aunts, uncles, cousins and friends helping us pack and load a truck yet another time.
It had been a quiet peaceful morning, a regular family breakfast and late showers. A “lazy sunday morning” on a saturday. Around noon we a had a BBQ and some friends over that were still there when my dad walked in with the announcement.
Well, all that turmoil was my dad’s way of surprising my mom with a house in the warmer part of the city that she wanted. She wasn’t happy living in that house so they had talked about moving, but nothing concrete.
So the house was full of family and friends carrying boxes and loading the truck. At one point I was carrying my parent’s bed’s headboard overhead with my cousin. I was walking backwards and stumbled with someone causing me to drop the headboard, which hit me in the nose. It wasn’t broken, but I was bleeding a lot and I got a nice scar to tell the story.
Around five in the afternoon we were half way done with the moving and I was starving. I went into the kitchen and grabbed some left over meat from lunch.
I attacked that steak like there was no tomorrow. Little did I know that there was actually almost no tomorrow for me in that occasion. I didn’t chew well enough and I was choking but everyone thought I was joking.
It wasn’t until I began to turn blue that someone reacted and performed the Heimlich maneuver on me. It wasn’t properly done, resulting in the obstruction going further down my esophagus.
At least I could now breath, but the obstruction was there. People were feeding me bananas and oil to help it slip down into my stomach but with no luck.
My dad took me to the hospital and said “I have to go back and finish moving, I’ll pick you up when they call me” and left.
I won’t tell you how I felt because you might get the picture.
So, I spent the night at the hospital getting x-rays done, a tube down my throat to push the obstruction into my stomach and skipping death once more.
Since that day I can’t swallow pills and I am always the last to finish at every meal.
You are right, it is a funny story.