Nine lives?

There could be a hitch in my get along. I did it again. Did what again? I coughed so long, and so continuous, there just wasn’t enough oxygen to keep the old man upright. What?

I’m up to three, count ‘em three of these episodes…

Reprinted with permission from Victurd on the first two… (Was dating Gracie/Debbie at the time.. ‘twas in her car):

I would drive straight from the lake some 2 and 1/2 hours to make it to work... I was going in at noon... Burger King, some 8 miles from work.. I grabbed a French Fry, put it in my mouth as I turned back onto the ramp to the Interstate.. noticed some Type A person within inches of my bumper behind me.. and I choked on the French Fry.. I remember choking, I remember as I tried like crazy to get some oxygen "I can't get any oxygen." Then there was the sensation-like of being underwater (Katy-Bar the door, this sonofabitch HAS flipped out on us) and the next thing I remember, I'm sitting in a grassy knoll (hmmm).. exactly 40' below the ramp where I just was... exactly twelve inches from a humongous concrete ravine... and I was breathing. (I can't remember the French fries ending - whether it went down or ended up somewhere on the floorboard.)... Anyways, I was scared shitless. No, not because I stopped breathing - but because I had gained Debbie's trust and I had just veered off the on-ramp, plummeted 40 some feet STRAIGHT DOWN.. and there I sat. Not a sole stopped to help. I imagined there was some "did you see that fucking old geezer? he just flew off the ramp, down the hill...whyinthefuck do we continue to stamp their plates year after year?"... Victor, this paragraph is too long... start another... Ok.

So, there I was.. Clothes dry (no pee, no completely soaked from the 'underwater' experience.. I got out, looked around the car. This is a nice, newer car. Years from having the checkenginelight come on. Anyways, no visible damage so I pulled it onto the outer road and into a church parking lot to re-inspect... Outta all that, all I found was a few chunks of grass embedded in the front bumper from when the car hit the gully and abruptly went from due South to dead North. Gracie was wonderful about it.. I'd wondered if there were any out there that might notta even mentioned it.. but I knew I had to... A few weeks later, the AC quit working (oh shit).. A month later, Gracie was putting makeup on during her drive from work. (Why do women do that? Also wonder why do women always announce when they go pee?).. Anyways, makeup - so she pulled the visor down.. opened it.. Hot damn... I guess when I hit the gully (due South to dead North) my head musta hit the visor/mirror because it was cracked in about three places. (Hell, that probably coincided with the demise of the French Fry.) Again, she was cool...

My second near death experience... (SCREW YOU... I am NOT ready for assisted living yet!).. New Year's Eve... I had had a total of exactly two beers,ie, not drunk. I'd had bronchitis so I'd been choking and coughing in concert with the '93 Taurus... I remember standing - Gracie was seated - and I remember coughing so hard that I again had trouble getting oxygen and thought to myself "I'm having trouble getting oxygen." It wasn't a classic 'fall'. I kinda went limp (NO, there is no correlation to my sex life here... screw you!).. anyways... limp.. slowly to knees... soon to be followed by laying flat on the floor... I wasn't 'underwater' but I woke up quickly and there staring at me was Gracie and Kent.. She'd hollered for help and it was there in a flash.. I was absolutely fine when my eyes opened... I am 'new' to this group. Whilst I went to high school with several of them - they all have maintained weekly contact since - I hadn't... So.. as I pulled myself up to the barstool Joy asked "Victor... Victor.. are you Ok?... Can we get you ANYTHING?"... My brain musta been still short on oxygen cause I replied "yeah.. a do-over?"...

Then, I started coughing at computer last night.. Next thing I remember - waking up (and I’d looked at the clock not too long prior - so I was out only like a minute) laying on the bedroom floor. My neck hurt like hell… I felt it… Blood… Allover… I had a nifty sized gash.. Got this wicker thingy, roughly a foot and a half tall, three feet long.. The corners have these wonderful brass thingies to give it strength or beauty or sumpin. That’s what my neck musta met. Embarrassed, my son came in not long after.. He helped me clean the wound - and bandage it… All we had was white tape and gauze - so - this morning I hadta swing by Piggly Wiggly to get some bandaids…

Fortunately, it wasn’t bleeding this morning (a couplea dots on the paper towel I’d brought with me to wipe off)… bought some small bandaids, and life was again good. Ceptin’ I answered 42 times at work “what happened” and each and every time I lied and said “was sitting at computer this morning, had bath towel around me, got up, tripped.” Forgive me Father for I told white lie. I coughed so damned hard I passed out.

So… my choices are: A) Go see a doctor and figure this shit out… B) Forget the whole damn thing and carry on… or C) Thank my lucky stars I’m still here - and kinda-sorta keep it in the backa my mind so I’ll remember to live/love every minute.

I’ll take Door C. I know I know. I know it’s a combination of cigs and not eating right, drinking right, irregular sleep - and the cost I pay for living on the edge. Hardheaded. (Soft neck, in fact it hurts like a sonofagun right now). For change to happen, it has to happen within, and I just ain’t quite sure I’m ready for that.

So, if some year you happen by checkenginelight and you look and think “hmmm, that old sonofabitch ain’t written since such-n-sucha date” it’s because I’ve made it through my 9th live.

At that point, please say the prayer “my goodness, I hope he got laid before he keeled.”
(Oh, and sprinkle a small amount of the ashes where the old horse stables were - wink, wink!)
Love, we choke our own chickens, Victurd.