Sirc
06-20-2009, 07:43 PM
Okay, a little while ago I "swallowed down the wrong pipe" and ended up choking. On my own spit. Again.
Not that it happens a lot mind you. 3 or 4 times a year I'll almost do it and manage to stop it, but once or twice a year I won't be able to stop it and then the fun begins. A full blown choking on my own spit attack. How pleasant.
I have no idea why this happens. I swallow my saliva hundreds of times a day. I've done this every day for the past 50 years. It's a natural process that everyone does. So what the hell - I still don't quite have the technique down? After 50 years I'm still occasionally screwing it up? How can that be? It makes me wonder what other natural process I can royally screw up (besides missing the toilet). For instance, I eat with a fork every day. Is it possible that one day I may completely miss my mouth and stick it in my eye? Should I be wearing goggles while I eat?
And when it happens you know it even before your body begins to react. You can feel that tiny trickle of spit suddenly take a left turn and head towards your lungs. And all you can do about it is think....awww shit, here we go.
You can't really blame your lungs I suppose. Their job is pretty straightforward. Take in air, pass oxygen to your bloodstream, and exhale carbon dioxide. A simple but vital function. So vital in fact that the lungs have defense mechanisms to ensure that having anything besides air entering them causes a code red security event.
"Warning! Unauthorized entry, security breached! The entrance has been sealed! Purging of foreign material to begin immediately!" It sorta reminds me of the movie Alien when Sigourney Weaver activated the ship's self-destruct and then couldn't get Mother to stop the sequence. But I digress.
And so it begins. Your lungs are sealed because they aren't about to let anything else enter until that little trickle of unwelcome spit has been dealt with. This is where it get's interesting. You can't take a deep breath to cough properly, so your lungs violently expel whatever air is available. And since they are in code red your lungs aren't about to allow you to take another breath to be able to cough again. This seems counter-productive, but your lungs don't care - they follow security protocol. Seemingly you are in a rather life-threatening situation at this point. Continuing to breath is rather important.
Now the brain kicks in and assess the situation. You're not breathing and that simply can't be tolerated, and it too goes to code red and directs your diaphragm to contract in an attempt to break the seal that your lungs have put in place. Depending on the amount of spit that has invaded your lungs, this may or may not work the first time. Or the second time. So the brain tosses in some adrenaline and explains to the diaphragm that it needs to get it's act together or die. And so begins the battle, and the shrill whistle of air being forced into your lungs against their will, and the retching coughing as your lungs expel the air - over and over and over. It just goes to show that time is a relative concept and that a few minutes can seem like an eternity while this is all taking place.
Eventually, the lungs begin to sense that the threat is passing and drops security to code orange. You're still coughing and retching, but not as badly. It's at this point, invariably, some one in the room witnessing all of this (because it never seems to happen when no one is around) asks you if you are okay. They know damn well that you are okay because they have had the same thing happen to them at some point, and they know that you can't possibly respond verbally yet, so you nod your head and either give them the thumbs up, or raise your index finger in a plea for them to give you another minute to recover, or simply give them the finger because you know that they know exactly what is happening and they're just being sadistic. Bastard!
Finally, your lungs drop security to code yellow. You're breathing begins to become normal, you start to be able to control your coughing, and you know the worst has passed.
And then you make the same mistake that you make every single time. You try to speak to assure your audience that you're fine and that you simply "swallowed down the wrong pipe".
Not gonna happen. Your lungs are still at code yellow and your vocal cords have been completely traumatized by the whole event. You raise you head up, wipe the spittle from your lips, and begin to say "I'm okay". Except you aren't quite able to finish the word "I'm" before your vocal cords rebel and tighten until you are hitting a high "C" note and your lungs start flickering back and forth between code yellow and orange and you start coughing all over again.
And once the coughing is mostly finished, and you can speak mono-syllable words, what do you do? You grab something to drink. This would seem to be counter-intuitive at this point, but for some reason it helps. It's like you need to give your lungs an assurance that you can still swallow without accidentally drowning yourself. I suppose it's a trust thing.
Finally, you're back to normal and announce to your audience "Crap, I hate when that happens." And everyone nods knowingly. And then you go punch the guy that asked you if you were okay.
Yes, I was bored when I wrote this. Anyone read the whole thing? :D
Not that it happens a lot mind you. 3 or 4 times a year I'll almost do it and manage to stop it, but once or twice a year I won't be able to stop it and then the fun begins. A full blown choking on my own spit attack. How pleasant.
I have no idea why this happens. I swallow my saliva hundreds of times a day. I've done this every day for the past 50 years. It's a natural process that everyone does. So what the hell - I still don't quite have the technique down? After 50 years I'm still occasionally screwing it up? How can that be? It makes me wonder what other natural process I can royally screw up (besides missing the toilet). For instance, I eat with a fork every day. Is it possible that one day I may completely miss my mouth and stick it in my eye? Should I be wearing goggles while I eat?
And when it happens you know it even before your body begins to react. You can feel that tiny trickle of spit suddenly take a left turn and head towards your lungs. And all you can do about it is think....awww shit, here we go.
You can't really blame your lungs I suppose. Their job is pretty straightforward. Take in air, pass oxygen to your bloodstream, and exhale carbon dioxide. A simple but vital function. So vital in fact that the lungs have defense mechanisms to ensure that having anything besides air entering them causes a code red security event.
"Warning! Unauthorized entry, security breached! The entrance has been sealed! Purging of foreign material to begin immediately!" It sorta reminds me of the movie Alien when Sigourney Weaver activated the ship's self-destruct and then couldn't get Mother to stop the sequence. But I digress.
And so it begins. Your lungs are sealed because they aren't about to let anything else enter until that little trickle of unwelcome spit has been dealt with. This is where it get's interesting. You can't take a deep breath to cough properly, so your lungs violently expel whatever air is available. And since they are in code red your lungs aren't about to allow you to take another breath to be able to cough again. This seems counter-productive, but your lungs don't care - they follow security protocol. Seemingly you are in a rather life-threatening situation at this point. Continuing to breath is rather important.
Now the brain kicks in and assess the situation. You're not breathing and that simply can't be tolerated, and it too goes to code red and directs your diaphragm to contract in an attempt to break the seal that your lungs have put in place. Depending on the amount of spit that has invaded your lungs, this may or may not work the first time. Or the second time. So the brain tosses in some adrenaline and explains to the diaphragm that it needs to get it's act together or die. And so begins the battle, and the shrill whistle of air being forced into your lungs against their will, and the retching coughing as your lungs expel the air - over and over and over. It just goes to show that time is a relative concept and that a few minutes can seem like an eternity while this is all taking place.
Eventually, the lungs begin to sense that the threat is passing and drops security to code orange. You're still coughing and retching, but not as badly. It's at this point, invariably, some one in the room witnessing all of this (because it never seems to happen when no one is around) asks you if you are okay. They know damn well that you are okay because they have had the same thing happen to them at some point, and they know that you can't possibly respond verbally yet, so you nod your head and either give them the thumbs up, or raise your index finger in a plea for them to give you another minute to recover, or simply give them the finger because you know that they know exactly what is happening and they're just being sadistic. Bastard!
Finally, your lungs drop security to code yellow. You're breathing begins to become normal, you start to be able to control your coughing, and you know the worst has passed.
And then you make the same mistake that you make every single time. You try to speak to assure your audience that you're fine and that you simply "swallowed down the wrong pipe".
Not gonna happen. Your lungs are still at code yellow and your vocal cords have been completely traumatized by the whole event. You raise you head up, wipe the spittle from your lips, and begin to say "I'm okay". Except you aren't quite able to finish the word "I'm" before your vocal cords rebel and tighten until you are hitting a high "C" note and your lungs start flickering back and forth between code yellow and orange and you start coughing all over again.
And once the coughing is mostly finished, and you can speak mono-syllable words, what do you do? You grab something to drink. This would seem to be counter-intuitive at this point, but for some reason it helps. It's like you need to give your lungs an assurance that you can still swallow without accidentally drowning yourself. I suppose it's a trust thing.
Finally, you're back to normal and announce to your audience "Crap, I hate when that happens." And everyone nods knowingly. And then you go punch the guy that asked you if you were okay.
Yes, I was bored when I wrote this. Anyone read the whole thing? :D