I Nearly Died Last Night

I nearly died last night. No really…I nearly did.
For the last few years I have been having a recurring problem swallowing food. Something gets stuck, not in my throat, but where the food enters the stomach. Usually a drink of water takes care of it. And when that doesn't work, I do the sticking-the-finger-down-the-throat routine. You know the drill. Then on the advice of a friend I recently came up with a less invasive solution,by adding an Alka Seltzer tablet to a glass of water. The bubbles, I figure, dislodge the food particle. And once relieved of the blockage I am instantly better, andcan continue with the meal I had begun.No big Whoop!
But last night, the Alka Seltzer wasn't doing its thing, so I took a second, extra-long sip.Suddenly the contents of myesophagus bubbled up and spilled into my lung and I couldn't breathe. I panicked of course, a full out crazy panic. I was convulsing with heaves trying to breathe, but nothing happened. Terrible sounds were coming out of my throat, but no air was coming in. I sensed that I was starting to black out. And the thought crossed my mind that I was going to die like Mama Cass from THE MOMMA AND THE POPPAS,whoyears ago, had choked on a ham sandwich in a hotel somewhere in Paris. But I was going to die here on my own bathroom floor… with the front door still ajar… in the warm California Spring. And the gardener wouldn't find me until Thursday, lying face down in my own vomit, flies circling overhead, body already starting to decompose slightly.
Now I know that all sounds a bit gruesome and melodramatic, but life has thrown a few curves my way in the last while. They say that tragedies happen in Threes. And in the last few weeks, I have had three good friends succumb to terrible health problems, each requiring an emergency hospital visit.
To start things off my friend Graeme (from Australia) changed his heart medication,which caused him disastrousside effects. Last week, traveling alone on a crowded plane, his blood pressure dropped to the point where he passed out.Mercifully, he regained consciousness when the plane landed. And even in his weakened state he stillhad the foresight to hop in a cab and go to the closest hospital, where they fixed him up and eventually sent him home. But still there were a few anxious days in there, while I contemplated losing a friend.
Next came my friend Ed in Toronto, who had been shipped off to a hospital a month ago to have a fungus scrapped off his bladder. Charming, right? But the surgeons found the fungus so pervasive they were forced to remove his bladder. HIS BLADDER! So now he would be peeing in a bag. Trouble is when he got home he became infected,which causedterrible diarrhea. And he was unable to eat. Of course, being a nicotine addict, it didn't stop him from smoking, which, according to his Cleaning Lady (Brian), nearly did him in, as he would fall asleep with alit cigarette.
But when his condition worsened, he was sent back to the hospital. Now here is where the story gets vague. There seems to be an internecine war among his circle of bridge players as to who should be his principal caregiver and networkcoordinator. These dueling Gorgons have attempted to control the situation and the information so that no one is quite sure what is going on. Anyway, the varying sources suggest that he has been incontinent for a year…that his carpet is stained from diarrhea and that his kidneys are failing, while his body is so full of fluid that Doctors cannot administer anti-bioticsintravenously. All in all not a prettypicture to contemplate for a friend of forty years.
And finally, two days ago, my friend Jan, here in LA, fell and broke her hip. It's bad enough to break a hip at the age of 65, but when youhave just returned from a five-yearromp with heroin, and havelost all your teeth and hair, it's worse. She'shad to join AA and a couple of other organizations just to get through the day.Although I should point out, that nothing seems to have curbed her enthusiasm forunfiltered Camels and massive amounts of coffee. "Once an addict…"And to top it all off, her little sojourn with smack has left her destitute; so she has no money, and of course no health insurance. Fortunately the law in California says that a hospital cannot turn you away no matter what your circumstance. So they drilled a couple ofTitanium screws into her, gave her a walker and a bedpan,and sent her home….still, I should point out, reeling fromVicodin.
So with these three life-threateningscenariosswirling in my brain, yesterday, I found myself gasping for the breath of life in my very own bathroom…facing the spectre of Death itself. But there was no breath to be had. And I realized I had about minuteleft before I went down. The contents of my stomach were now in my lungs and I was on my way out.
For reasons that I cannot explain, I stoppedattempting to get huge gulps of air(as desperately as I needed them). But instead tried to coax a little air around the blockage. And it worked. Even so, I was still slipping down the walls of the bathroom., losing consciousness. Then I tried another small gasp holding onto the bathtub, and then another, until finally a huge wad of something indescribably horrid shot out of my lungs, and I could breathe again. But the event was so traumatic, and I was as fragile and unsteady as I have ever been, now sitting on the edge of my bathtub starring at the tiles on the floor. My hands were ice-cold and I was shaking all over. But I also realized that I was going to live. And I felt just like Susan Hayward who starred so many years ago in that B-Flick I WANT TO LIVE. And I thought to myself, Susan, I know exactly how you feel.

B*