Snackie's World

They say that right before you’re about to die, your entire life flashes before your eyes.  I’m here to tell you that in my case, that’s not entirely true.  As a matter of fact, earlier this afternoon, when I was sure that I was about to die, the biggest thoughts going through my head were about unfinished business and the fact that I haven’t told everyone exactly how I feel about them.

But hey, before I wax all prolific, how about I tell you how I almost died?  Yes, seriously…I like literally almost died on Sunday, August 1st at exactly 4:47pm, Pacific Daylight Time.

As most of you know, I took a tumble across a courtyard about a month ago and because of that, my knee is still jacked up beyond repair.  Well okay, there probably *is* a repair for whatever is going on but I’m totally not going to seek it out until next month when I have some damned health insurance!  In any case, every now and then I like to take half of a pain pill so that I can relax without the constantly annoying knee-screaming action that comes after a workout.  After a long morning of beefing up my exercise routine then running around town with a fella much younger than I am, all I wanted to do was break that Percoset in half, prop up mah leg and enjoy a little Project Runway or perhaps even some Supernatural reruns.

The last thing I truly remember was the crisp ripping noise that happened when I popped open my Diet Grapefruit Soda.  After that, it’s all pretty much a blur so please bear with me as I try to suss this all out.  I must have opened the soda then popped the pill into my mouth quite rapidly.  All I remember at that point is that something suddenly felt very wrong and I couldn’t breathe.  At first, the pill seem to almost be lodged in the wrong place until I freaked the fuck out, inhaled deeply and uh, probably sealed my fate by lodging it deeper in my windpipe.  Suddenly, and I shit you negative…

I. could. not. breathe.

Panic ran through my body from my head to my toes.  Everything started to go numb and tears started to flow from my eyes.  Nobody was home but me and I tried desperately though fears and tears to remember everything I was every taught about the Heimlich Manuever and other such CPR hotness.  I tried giving myself The Heimlich but had no idea if I was doing it right.  I then thrust my stomach against the bathroom counter, hoping that would work.  Somehow, and I have no IDEA why, the rational part of my brain took over and I started pouring hot water in my throat because I was under the impression that hot water would start to disintegrate a pill.  I then stuck my finger down my throat because I figured that maybe if I could somehow get myself to barf, it would knock the pill loose and I would be saved.

Oddly enough, that totally worked.

Keep in mind that all of this happened within maybe a minute and a half.  However, somewhere between the battlefields of The Heimlich, the hot water and the pukeology, I managed to hork out that pill!  As I watched it fly across my bathroom, I started crying harder than I had in quite some time.  I’ve been in some sticky situations and have had some terrible panic attacks but never in my entire fucking life have I ever been that scared.  Not ever.  I tried really hard to just sit down and allow myself to cry like a baby but thanks to the many different things I had tried to get the pill to come back out, I was now unable to stop myself from gagging and vomiting.  I’m not even gonna lie here…somewhere in the middle of all this almost dying and barfing my guts up, I totally pissed my pants.  I’d be more embarrassed to admit that but yanno, hi…I almost freaking died!

Physically, I’m totally fine.  My throat feels a little raw and my stomach hurts from all of the drama llama caused by the barfage.  Mentally, I have no idea how I feel, honestly.  Part of me wants to make a joke because you know, when I am really uncomfortable, that’s what I do.  I want to yuk it up and remind you all about the fact that I’ve always said that I’d probably die by choking on food.  No no, not because I am voluptuous but because I have problems chewing and eat really slowly because of that.  I’d love to make jokes about me flailing myself against the bathroom counter and totally peeing in my cute new panties but really, it’s tired and it’s been done.  Yes, even only an hour later, it’s all somewhat amusing and yet still, if I don’t pause and look at what really happened here?  I’m scared that I am going to bury that utter fear and sadness somewhere with all of the other crap I often stuff down inside of me, never to be seen again.

As I mentioned before, my life did not flash before my eyes.  I thought about the man I spent this morning with and wondered why it is so hard for me to tell him how I really feel about him.  I thought about the friend who hurt my feelings big time today and wondered why it was so hard for me to look past her seemingly hateful nature and just accept her for who she is.  I thought about my nephew and how I would never get to see him grow up.  I thought about my poor Dad being responsible for my body and then thought about the ex-husband that I’ve so desperately wanted to not hate for quite some time now.  I thought about the fact that I too often don’t tell people to mind their own business and let me make my own mistakes but that I also too often don’t thank people enough for caring about me and saying the things they know I don’t want to hear.  I thought about my best friend and how amazing she is and how I just never told her that no one has ever been a better friend to me than she is.  I thought about people that I no longer speak to and wondered if they would cry if I died and furthermore, if I somehow made it through all of this and they died before me, would *I* cry if they died?  And if so, what did that all mean?   I thought about the pettiness that tears us all apart and the little things that bring us all together.  I heard one man’s voice telling me how being with me was “excruciating” and another man’s voice telling me that nothing compared to the feeling he gets when he gets to be around me.  I wondered why I never had children.  I thought about the fact that I was going to die in a tank top and pajama bottoms.

Most importantly though…once that pill was dislodged from my vortex and was flying across the room, through the hot tears and fearful sobs, I wondered why God was giving me this second chance.  I wondered what the hell *I* have done to deserve it and how the hell I am going to use it.  I am one little person who rarely feels like she means that much to anyone (even though it’s not true) yet somehow I was spared and was allowed to stay here on this Earth and maybe do something wonderful and amazing with my small little life.

I don’t want to get all “post-traumatic drastic” but there are some things I need to say to some people and some fences that need to be mended.  There are a fuckton more “I love yous” that need to be handed out and a million and one smiles that need to be given on a daily basis.  I’m letting the pettiness wash away.

These are my precious things.
This is my precious life.
Apparently, these are my precious tears.

Freaked The Fuck Out Kisses,
Me

Picture it: a hot Sunday afternoon filled with the promise of good times to come.  There’s a woman whose head is filled with expectations of good friends, good food, good booze and good times. She slips on a sundress and platform flip-flops just so that she can carry a laundry basket full of dirty clothes to the complex laundry room, fully taking advantage of the fact that nobody else would likely do laundry on such a festive holiday.  As she impresses herself by daintily floating down the stairs with so much heavy cargo, she smiles and internally pats herself on the back at the fact that she’s lost nineteen pounds this summer and is much lighter on her feet.  She almost starts skipping and whistling a tune when suddenly and without warning….

Her foot catches some kind of conical looking object that has fallen from a nearby tree and she stumbles.  Unlike other moments that she’s played the role of Madame Butterfinger, she is unable to stop the inevitable.  There is no time to even think “oh shit” as she attempts to break her fall with her left arm.  As her body scrapes the ground and she slides across the courtyard like a jet plane coming in for a landing, the pain immediately soars through her body and she instantly screams, “Fuck!”.  She’s not going to cry though, dammit.  She’s going to get up and walk this off.   As she attempts to get up, however, she realizes that things are really messed up and that she’s not going anywhere for quite some time.  As she spends countless minutes focusing on her injuries, she fails to remember that she just fell down in a sundress and has shown half of the apartment complex her bright pink chonies with hearts on them.

Yes yes, my friends…”she” is me and as some of you on Facebook already know, I had a total “Jack and Jill” moment on Sunday afternoon.   The first thing I noticed after falling is that my left pinky was crooked and that I couldn’t move it at all.  The fingernail was folded all the way back, exposing flesh and blood that should not have been seeing the light of day.  The rest of my left hand and arm were scraped up pretty badly.  I failed to even notice that my left knee was torn to shreds until later that day when it started to turn black and blue and swell up like a grapefruit.  I spent all afternoon checking into and checking out of the Emergency Room simply because I’ve never had a broken anything before so I had no idea what to look for.  Beyond that, I’ve spent the last two days nursing aches and pains that I never even knew existed until at least 24 hours after the fact!

My pinky seems to be healing up extremely quickly.  I am even sitting here typing with the top half of my pinky nail missing in action.  Ironically, the things that I was less focused on, if at all, are the things that are now officially killing me.  I have no idea how the hell my neck got involved but I can barely turn it today.  My back is in pain and both of my legs are like, “yeah, you want me to do what? Just piss yourself lady…we are not walking to the bathroom!”.  I had to take a day off of work today, which I hated doing.  I was going for the “New and Improved Hilly Perfect Attendance Award” and now I have so failed that.  However, I must say that if there were ever a valid reason to call off work, this would be it.  At least I don’t have guilt issues over being home today so yay on that front , huh?

And now, because I am me and although much has changed in my life except this, I must say something.  It’s amazing the lessons that one can learn from a fall like this.  No no, I was not Sister Mary Dramatica because I fell.  I don’t think I stared death in the face or anything else silly like that.  Nay nay, what I am talking about here is the thing I touched on with the pinky.  I have noticed that everything in life that screams at you, whether it be metaphorically or literally, is easy to deal with and usually heals first.  You tend to nurse those wounds and those situations until they come back kicking and screaming in record time.  It’s the quiet, sneaky aches and pains that usually do you in.  Sometimes other people hide them from you and sometimes you push them so far under the rug that you forget they are there until they smart and tear at you once again.  I guess life is filled with obvious metaphors if you sit around long enough to think about them.  Obviously, I have nothing better to do today besides think and yanno, watch Charmed and Angel in syndication.  Gee, don’t you wish you were me?

Kisses To Make It Better,
Me