Monday, February 12, 2018

What Happened First

Back when my beloved mother was still alive, she told me about something scary that happened to her and my father when they were home alone.
    Not scary in the “Boo!” kind of way, even though the house I grew up in was supposed to be haunted. Nothing frightening or supernatural ever happened to me, unless you count the spooky noises and noxious fumes that emanated from my brother’s side of the bedroom we shared, if you get my drift.

     If you don't, that's probably for the best.
     Anyway...
    They were sitting in the den, watching TV together. She was sitting on the couch and my father was in his favorite chair, when—all of a sudden—my father began to choke.
    “Honey!” my mother screamed as my father began to turn purple.
    In a panic, she picked up the remote and turned off the TV, and then began to slap him hard on the back, trying to dislodge whatever it was he was choking on.
    It didn’t help,
    My father’s hands were clawing at his throat and his eyes were bulging out of their sockets. Passing out, he fell to the floor.
    THAT helped.
    The obstruction moved and my father was able to breathe again.
     “Honey,” my mother was crying as she hunched over him. “Are you okay?”
    My father was gasping for air.
    “Why did you turn off the TV?” he wanted to know.
 
 
  Raising My FatherRaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
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