Choking on Bacon

My mom graduated from college while she was still pregnant with me. She didn't start working full-time as a teacher until I was in Kindergarten. Prior to that, she held several jobs, but we were by no means wealthy. We never went without the things we needed, but if it was a want, you couldn't have it. My older siblings know and remember that fact a lot more than I do, but I do remember how far Mom could stretch a can of tuna fish to feed five kids and her and Dad. It was more Miracle Whip sandwich than it was tuna sandwich, but we didn't know the difference, and I don't think it mattered anyway. We were taught to be grateful for what we had.

Because of our monetary situation, it was rare that we ate things like bacon. It was too expensive, so the only time I remember eating it was when it was on super reduced sale or given to us by someone else (which I don't think ever happened). The same thing happened with hamburger and any kind of beef, pork products, and probably chicken as well, although chicken probably would have been cheaper and easier to come by. We ate a lot of rice and pasta dishes. And casseroles. And lots of vegetables and fruits because they were cheap at the time (unlike now where you can't eat healthy without giving up your firstborn and 12 batches of your own plasma) and because Grandpa Koyle's garden was full of them in the Fall. (Thinking of his fresh tomatoes still makes me salivate!)

There must have been a good sale on bacon during the summer that I was four. I remember I was four because I hadn't started school yet, and I was both excited and nervous to go to Kindergarten. I also remember that it was summer because my brother, Jon, was home that morning for some reason, and I was wearing shorts and a lightweight T-shirt. Mom had cooked bacon that day, and we were having bacon and tomato sandwiches for lunch. Sometimes (probably more than I knew) she would make lunch and take it to Dad at the dry cleaning shop. Other times, he would come home to eat, but more often than not he had a hard time getting away from that place (for lunch or anything else, including vacations).

I was standing in the kitchen as Mom finished cooking the bacon and started putting Dad's lunch together. I asked Mom what she was cooking and what we were having for lunch. With an excited smile on her face Mom replied, "We're having bacon! Bacon and tomato sandwiches."

My response (as always) was, "I don't like (fill in the blank here with any food item, and this time it was) bacon."

She assured me I would love bacon. It's not that I was necessarily a picky eater (was I?), but it was more that I was afraid of the things I didn't know. I wouldn't eat mushrooms because (I got words mixed up a lot as a kid) I thought they were mushworms, and by being mushworms it meant they were worm poop that had been "mushed" up into that shape. So you can see how new foods might have been problematic for me, right? Anyway, Mom assured me I would like bacon if I would just try it. And besides, she reminded me, it wasn't often we got to have bacon.

After a lot of coaxing and convincing (and probably some bargaining with something I wanted, like cheese), I decided to try the bacon. Mom handed me a piece that had been well-cooked (not burned, just not fatty) and said, "Now, be sure to chew it up really well. Just keep chewing and chewing and chewing until it's small enough to swallow, okay?" I stared at the bacon and nodded my head in the affirmative.

Who knows how long I stared at the piece of bacon before taking a bite? It could have been hours knowing me and my stubborn ways. Eventually, I took a bite.

It was kind of a big bite.

Mom noticed how much I bit off and reminded me again to chew it and chew it and chew it.

Yeah, uh huh, okay, sure Mom. I will chew this until the cows come home. I will chew it so well you won't even ...

... UH OH.

I had swallowed without chewing really well and there was a huge piece of bacon caught in my throat and I couldn't breathe and I was choking and the world was caving in on me and my eyes were going black and the room was getting small and ...

... then Jon reached around me and gave me the Heimlich maneuver. Where did he learn that?!

And then Mom was all over me. "Are you okay? Are you all right? Can you breathe?"

YES, thank you.

And on the floor was a balled up piece of bacon. Which Jon promptly picked up and threw away. Thank him! I couldn't have seen it for much longer without losing more than my bacon.

Things calmed down after that. There were no adverse effects. Jon sat down to eat his bacon and tomato sandwich, and I went with Mom to take lunch to Dad.

When we got home, I believe I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.

Or was it mostly Miracle Whip with a little tuna?

Either way, it tasted good to me and helped Mom keep her sanity. Win-win.

For the record, I really like bacon.