♡ Ms. Rescuer ♡

I look up as your fork clatters onto the table, startled by the noise. You gag and cough into a napkin, pause and inhale sharply, then cough without noise. You look down and shake your head, a hand covering your mouth as you place the napkin back in your lap. You cough again without noise, face growing red and eyes opening wide. You hit your chest with your fist a couple times before you look up at me, fear and confusion on your face. You’re choking, and my blood runs cold as this realization hits me.

I stand up from my chair and rush around the table to you. “Can you breathe?” I ask, already knowing the answer. You shake your head again, both hands now gripping the edge of the table as you push your chair back and attempt to cough. “Stand up” I say, my hands already under your arms and lifting you up. We stumble slightly as I place my hand across your chest and lean you forward with my other hand between your shoulder blades. I deliver back blows, striking you sharply on the back. You lurch forward with every strike, but nothing happens.

I then place one fist against your abdomen, grabbing it with my other hand. I pull in and up into your stomach, attempting to push air out of your lungs. A strangled grunt escapes your throat, but nothing happens. I perform the Heimlich again and again, waiting for the food blocking your airway to come free. As your body grows heavy, I muster my strength and perform an abominable thrust so sharp that you are lifted off the ground momentarily. I hear you gag and gasp as your airway clears. Our hearts are beating from adrenaline, shocked at how severe this situation had so suddenly become. My hands remain circled around your waist, and you grab my hands in yours as you catch your breath, a weak cough emanating from your lips. Relief fills my body as I feel your stomach rising and falling against my hands, greedy for air. My hands move up to your chest and I feel your heart racing under my palm.

It was the perfect place for me to choke. Of course this would happen here tonight. Just a complete fucking nightmare. New to the city, unacquainted with this crowd, a more optimistic version of me earlier in the night had hoped these people might become my new group of friends. I’d been doing so well, too. Making conversation, holding my tongue before saying anything awkward. I duck away to the kitchen where countless plates of food are laid out on a big table, and now…

Every gasp of air I tried to take seemed to lodge the steak further in my throat. Murmuring and the buzz of conversation faded, washing away with the burst of static that filled my blood and consumed my senses. I gripped the table in front of me, my silverware crashing to the hardwood floor with a clatter as my hands pulled at the tablecloth. I grip my throat tightly, fingers digging into bulging flesh, and try to work the lump up my airway fruitlessly. My other hand pounds hard on the table, in a wordless beg for help from anyone, anyone at all.

The front door of my house flings open the moment I pull into the driveway. My confusion lasts for only a second before you lurch through the doorway, hands clawing at your throat and veins bulging as you stumble towards me. You point hurriedly at your neck and punch your chest futilely. To my horror the skin of your face is a deep shade of red, almost purple, and your lips are beginning to turn blue. As I rush towards you I ask if you’re choking, but without waiting for the answer I grab you from behind and place one fist right above your bellybutton, grasping it firmly with my other hand.

Nerves firing with adrenaline, I pull in and up as hard as I can, my hands sinking deep into your abdomen and my arms squeezing tight around your body. Yet the obstruction remains firmly lodged. A strange sound between a gag and a retch escapes your throat as I thrust hard into your diaphragm again, feeling your muscle and flesh quiver beneath my fists as I ram them into your belly with all my might. But it’s no use. Your weight grows heavier in my arms and I know that you’re losing the battle to stay conscious. As your legs begin to give out I pull you even closer to me, sliding my leg between yours as I squeeze you even tighter in an effort to keep you upright. Beginning to fear the worst, I pull out my phone and dial 911.

As I bend you forward to try another way to dislodge the obstruction, a pit forms in my stomach as I see your arms fall from where they’d been around your neck and dangle limply at your sides. Supporting your chest, I struggle to hold you up as I slam the heel of my hand into the area just between your shoulder blades over and over again. I beg the 911 operator to send EMTs to our house as quickly as possible, then toss my phone on the ground. You convulse and near-silent gulping noises escape your lips with each strong blow I deliver, but the obstruction remains fully lodged. While I continue to beat your back, you suddenly fall forward, knees buckling. My hands slide up to your chest and guide you to the floor, catching you as your legs give out completely. On my knees on the ground, your limp form is practically sitting in my lap as my arms envelop you and I break focus for a split second to stroke your hair.

I keep my arms encircled around your chest and thrust inward and upward again, producing a guttural, strangled noise from deep within your throat. You squirm slightly in my arms with each thrust as you continue to gag, even in your barely-conscious state. Looking to see if anything has come up and seeing nothing visibly plugging your throat, I shudder and pull in harder at a quicker pace than before, seeing only that your face is now a pale shade of purple and your lips an ashen blue-grey.

Another round of deep thrusts to your chest goes by with no success. Sliding my arms back down to just above your navel, I heave upward and deeply into your belly yet again while you slump forward. Yielding no results, I pull deeper and harder with each subsequent thrust, but no matter how hard I pull you continue to choke. Continuing to alternate between rounds of hard thrusts to your stomach and chest and blows to your back, I continue diligently and try not to think about the passing minutes. I begin to lose hope when suddenly, I hear sirens approach in the distance. Moments later an ambulance pulls into the driveway behind my car.

When I call out your name I hear only a panicked, strangled sound in response, so I go to investigate. Entering our dining room, I find you heaving yourself over the back of one of the chairs again and again; one fist in your belly just above your belly button, the other braced on the seat itself. You look up at me with flushed cheeks, eyes wide and mouth agape. My heart drops into my stomach as I realize you’re choking, and badly. Only a wheeze manages to escape your lips, which grow tingly and cold as you begin to feel faint. Walking towards me, you wrap your hands around your throat and look directly at me, letting me know you need my help, right now. I rush behind you and embrace your trembling form with a closed fist under your ribcage, my other hand over your left breast, feeling your heart thumping hard and fast. Your weight grows heavier in my arms as you lose the ability to hold yourself up. I know I need to hurry. I slide my hand down from your chest and grab my closed fist, thrusting into your belly over and over again, progressively harder each time.

Your back is flush against my chest, our bodies pressing into one another with each ensuing thrust. I continue to pull in and up as hard as I possibly can, but whatever is stopping you from breathing refuses to budge. Pausing to look at your face, I check to see if the obstruction has come out, if you can breathe yet. Yet there is no sign of the obstruction, and your skin takes on an eerie purple-blue tinge as you continue to choke. My own heart races in my chest as your half-shut eyes flutter and begin to roll back in your head. Trying something new, I lean you forward and strike you as hard as I can between your shoulder blades, praying that this new approach will dislodge the stubborn blockage and get you the air you desperately need. As you continue to grow heavier, I support you with one arm around your lower abdomen while the other strikes your back. Your arms dangle at your sides as I deliver a series of strong blows with the heel of my hand. I pound your back repeatedly, but your airway remains fully and totally blocked. Your field of vision is almost entirely black now, your skin tingles with electricity, and your oxygen-starved lungs strain as you try in vain to cough. As I pull you in and up to my chest with another deep, strong thrust that lifts your feet off the ground, I feel you going limp in my arms. Suddenly, I’m the only force holding you upright between thrusts. I plunge my hands into your belly fruitlessly several more times, but as you truly collapse I lay you gently on the ground.

Stroking your hair and promising you it’ll be alright, I straddle your soft thighs. My full body weight is positioned over the center of your too-still chest. I begin to compress with the heels of my hands on your sternum, hard and fast, feeling your body sink beneath my hands with each compression. Reaching 30, I lean close to your face, open your mouth, and attempt to remove what’s stopped your breathing but see nothing. I place my lips to yours, feeling the contrast of your cool skin on mine, and exhale; feeling the air stop short of your lungs.

(I present a finished story about two characters of mine.

CONTENT : Choking on food, Heimlich maneuver, mouth sweeps AND a comfortable ending.)

Kenneth is an 18 year old recluse who lives in a cabin up Sugarloaf Mountain. His parents are senior, and he’s lived in the cabin for his whole life. Developing agoraphobia over the isolating years, he had a few unfortunate events happen to him while his parents were away— break ins and severe psychosis— resulting in his parents hiring a babysitter for him when they go on a trip.

Kylie is a 19 year old babysitter who was informed of who she’d be keeping company. At first, she played more as a house sitter, and Kenneth kept to himself upstairs. With time, Kenneth began to speak to Kylie. Kylie was the first person Kenneth had a relationship with outside of a parental one, so in a few months of consistent visits from his “babysitter”, they perused eachother romantically.

—

“How can this be the best sandwich you’ve ever had?”

“It always tastes better when someone else makes it.”

Kylie had made Kenneth and her sandwiches for lunch. It was her third day up at his cabin in Sugarloaf Mountain this month, she was supposed to be here for another week until his parents came back. She doubted they’d be going out anywhere, which hadn’t started to bother her too much just yet. They’d only been together for two months now.

“It’s salami, cheese, lettuce, and bread.” Kylie said, sitting herself down on the couch in the living room while Kenneth stood in the kitchen with the sandwich in his hands. “It’s not even toasted.”

“I’m not a good cook,” he started, which earned a scoff from Kylie on the couch.

“No, you’ve just been cooking for yourself for so long, you start tasting the wrongdoings in your own creations.” Kylie pushed.

“I think you’re incorrect,” Kenny said, sass flying out as the last word slipped off his tongue.

“You make some mad avocado toast, Ken.” Kylie says, earning an eye roll from the other. She began to eat her sandwich, pulling the remote out and changing the TV channel to the one of the many weather channels his parents paid for.

Kenneth continued to munch on his sandwich, before getting up with the sandwich in hand to go into the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Kylie asked him, only looking up from her plate to see where he had gone to.

“Getting water, do you want a glass?” Kenneth asked flatly.

“If you could, I’d like it sourced from the Icelandic Glaciers.” Kylie replied and chuckled after.

“Totally, your majesty.” Kenny grabbed two glasses and set them down on the counter, and began filling one up out of the sink. He filled it up to the rim, and took a final (considerably larger) bite of his remaining lunch- before grabbing the second glass and filling it up.

“Could you grab me a napkin too?” Kylie asked from the living room couch, taking another chomp of her sandwich.

“Mhm-“ Kenny hummed and swallowed his bite at the same time, feeling a sudden lump form right where he didn’t want it. The mass of sandwich he failed to chew appropriately sat on top of his windpipe, evoking immediate discomfort and anxiety.

Even though he realized what was happening right away, he did not ask for help like he should have. He just tried to swallow again. He felt muscles in his neck strain, his faulty epiglottis stuck beneath the chunk preventing him from passing any air.

Attempting to swallow again, he was able to suck in a loud, wet gasp, alerting Kylie that something was happening.

This was quite possibly the worst ever thing that could have happened to Kenny, according to him. He did not want to get the embarrassing attention of Kylie from across the hallway, but at the same time, seconds were passing by and Kenny was unable to breathe. He was feeling flustered despite the impending doom, mentally beating himself up as he physically suffocated.

He tried to assess the situation himself, ignoring Kylie's voice from the living room.

“Kenny is everything alright?” She asked, hearing the odd noise that came from the kitchen and the silence after.

Kenneth turned the sink off and turned in place with the cup in hand, before he suddenly gagged again without thought and dropped the glass. It hit the counter before shattering on the floor of the sink.

“Shit!” Kylie got up from her seat and left her plate on the table, going to see what was happening in the kitchen. She skidded to the corner of the living room and kitchen, assessing where he was.

“Dude, what is going on?” She asked, not understanding what was happening. She could read obvious stress, but there was no sound.

Kenneth couldn’t say a word to her, he couldn’t even exhale. His head was beginning to pound, and before he could stop it, he felt the urge to vomit overcome him and a gag erupted again from his blocked throat. He quickly turned towards the sink, grabbing onto the rim of the counter, and threw up a fair amount of his own lunch onto the steel bottom. He banged the counter as he retched, the panic showing as each second passed.

After a few more eerily silent heaves, Kylie hurried over to him with a hand on his back. She was hoping to assume he had just gotten suddenly sick, but it wouldn’t explain the lack of response from him. Patting his back a few times, she could feel him tense beneath her hand.

Kenny still couldn’t breathe. A few clicking noises came from deep in his throat as he attempted to swallow again, but was met with no change. His face was turning red.

Wiping his mouth and straightening up, he looked at Kylie with huge eyes. And with the taste of acid burning his throat, he raised both of his hands to his neck and grasped onto it.

Kylie pieced it all together as he did that. She grabbed onto the full cup of water and gave it to him to drink, holding it up to his mouth. He did try to drink it, but all it did was come back up and pour out of his mouth.

“Fuck dude- what the fuck do I do??!” She stood with her mouth agape for a moment, staring at her boyfriend's face becoming more and more blue. He had tears in his eyes as he gagged again, staring at Kylie in disbelief.

That CPR certification on her resume must’ve been a fad. His parents wouldn’t have hired her if she just had a diploma to show, there’s no way she didn’t know the heimlich.

He lowered his hands to form a fist, pressing it right under his ribs and pulling up aggressively. He hiccuped, and did it again, before feeling another pair of hands wrap around him.

Kylie had imitated him, remembering what she’d seen in movies. Her hands made contact right above his belly button.

“I’m sorry, just— lift your arms up,”

Kenneth was feeling embarrassed to start with but now he was just terrified. It all changed so quickly, he was getting water a minute ago and now he felt like he was just moments away from dying.

Lifting his arms away from his torso, the growing weight became impossible to ignore. His limbs were becoming more and more heavy. He felt his throat contract around the sandwich again, his body trying and trying again to get the foreign object out.

He could feel Kylie's arms tight around his torso, how his ribs expanded into her grasp as he fought to get in a breath.

Kylie pulled her fists up quickly which caused Kenny to make an audible choking noise- followed by a sharp and torn gasp. She thrusted upwards again, an almost silent wheeze squeezing out. He was slowly beginning to not hold up his own body. Kylie could feel him leaning into her, she had to keep doing this or else she would have to call the ambulance.

“C’mon, breathe Ken,” her voice shook.

Would anyone even get up here in time? He lives in the mountains, for Christ’s sake.

She thrusted into his diaphragm over and over again, his mouth hanging open with saliva trailing out. His eyes were bloodshot and his face pale, the balance he had was losing itself. He couldn’t even feel much of himself anymore. His hands had fallen loosely to the side of his body, his head lolling forwards

“Don’t you- ohh fuck,”

Kenneth hadn’t fallen entirely unconscious, his limbs were entirely numb and audio felt like he was listening through a pillow. He could see, although it felt in frames. Everything felt light, panic had run through him as worse as it could and there was nothing he could do about it now. Darkness creeping up his vision, he started to slip.

Kylie felt his weight starting to shift. She pulled upwards one more time as hard as she could, but just a second after, they were both falling to the floor. Kenneth landed on top of Kylie, and Kylie landed against the floor and the counter.

There wasn’t any kind of movement from the male, he was a dead weight on top of Kylie. She could feel his muscles under her hands spasming for air. Kylie was feeling a type of fear she hadn’t felt before.

“Oh shit! — Kenny? Kenny!” She was breathing quickly now, trying to move herself into a better position where she could see what was going on. Lowering his body closer to the floor, she got a good look at his pale face.

His eyes were half open and unfocused, his face was scarily ghostly pale, and his mouth was slightly open. His throat bobbed as his body sluggishly attempted to save itself to no avail.

Kylie’s stomach dropped. She had to figure this out, even if she didn’t quite know what she was supposed to be doing. Lifting her hand up over his face, she curled a thumb under his lower set of teeth and forced his mouth open. With her other hand, she swept two fingers down the back of his throat to feel for what was stuck.

Kenny could feel the sharpness of her fingernails as she brushed the back of his throat. Pain found its way through the darkness of axsphiation. He’d gag if his body had the strength to do so, but it felt impossible to even stay awake.

Kylie could immediately feel the chunk, sitting right at the opening of his windpipe. Pulling it forwards with a few quick waves, she forced it out of his mouth and onto the floor in front of them.

The moment the object moved from its place, Kenny gasped harshly. His hands flexed and curled up towards his torso, and he started to hack painfully. He felt air rush into his starving lungs, his extremities being flooded with a rush of warmth.

Kylie heard him breathe wetly, she pulled herself and him up slightly so they weren’t both on the ground. She leaned him forwards gently, patting his back as he cleared his throat.

His trachea felt raw and sore, he had a newfound headache, and he wasn’t hungry anymore. With his cough sounding harsh and barky, he finally opened his eyes fully and tried to sit up.

“Hold on- Jesus Kenny, stay down.” Kylie helped him sit up against the shelf, before getting up to reach the cup of water. She grasped onto it, bringing it down to his level.

Kenneth was in shock, his hands were so shaky he had a hard time taking the cup on his own. His eyes were wide and his face clammy, tears began to form.

Kylie saw his struggle and helped him drink water before he processed too much. Holding it up to his lips, she tilted it towards him slowly. He was able to drink a few sips before she lowered the cup onto the floor.

“I…. I’m sorry,” Kenneth’s voice was small, sounding embarrassed and broken. He cleared his throat again, reaching up to wipe his eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kylie’s voice returned just as soft, although gently. She reached around him and wrapped his hands around his abdomen again in a comforting embrace.

Kenneth sucked in a quick gasp as her hand brushed over where he had been touched, his body felt incredibly and suddenly sore. He whined audibly, sinking lower into his girlfriend’s grasp. She began to caress his head, running her fingers through his overgrown blond hair.

Partial silence embodied the room, the sounds of sniffling and reassuring words quietly making rounds. The TV was still on, but the words were far too jumbled to make out.

Kylie was okay with waiting for Kenneth to choose when they got up.

So she waited for him, dismissing his repeated apologies and telling him it wasn’t a big deal for her.

It was a lie, she’d never felt that kind of fear regarding another person before. She wasn’t sure how she felt about caring for someone to this degree, but Kenneth was so different from anyone else she’s ever dated.

Maybe it was time to truly care about someone.

END