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There is nothing like that adrenaline rush you get when you know you are just seconds away from death. I know this because I’ve been there quite a few times in my mere 22 years of life. The story I want to tell you today is just one of those rushes I will never quite forget.
It was one of those rushed Saturday mornings during the school year when I had stayed
out far too late the Friday night before. I remember it was March, right in the middle of the
semester but right after my cheerleading season had ended. Looking back, if I had told this
story to my coach, if the events you’re about to hear didn't kill me, he sure would have. And not because it was a dumb thing to do but because he looked out for us. He cared for us like we were his own kids. Anyway, this blustery morning I was running a few minutes late and didn’t have time for breakfast. I grabbed a plastic cup, poured some orange juice and was on my way. I lived about 30 minutes away from the Radio station on a farm. As per usual, my murder podcast was blaring, and I didn’t even think about the orange juice until I was in town.
This seems like a boring story, right? So far, I am just your typical college student, nothing life threatening or even a little scary. This is where it all changes.
Picture this; You are driving down a busy street on a Saturday morning, orange juice in one
hand, steering wheel in the other.
You go to take a sip right as the woman in front of you slams on her breaks.
You slam on your breaks.
Then you feel it, this is where the adrenaline comes filling your body…
Or is that something else…
Why is it burning?
Adrenaline doesn’t feel like this…
It’s...
Not adrenaline...
Its…
The orange juice!
In the act of sipping without a straw on your orange juice as you were driving you made a
terrible mistake.
You see, when you hit the brakes, it caused you to gasp out of fear. But you were still taking a
drink, and because of the laws of physics; what is in motion will stay in motion until acted upon by an outside force, it’s flowing into your mouth.
And it’s not just a little bit. It’s all flowing into your mouth straight down your throat. It’s flooding your lungs.
Remember when you gasped for breath?
You didn’t get air.
You got a good old-fashioned Tropicana.
This is it.
This is where your eyes fill with tears, and you start coughing uncontrollably. But you are still
driving! You are in the left turn lane. The light is green, and there is a line of people behind you waiting for you to floor it. So, you do, even though you can’t see the road through the tears running down your cheeks, and you are turning onto a very narrow street.
With cars on either side and orange goop coming up from your coughs.
Now this is it folks.
This is where you die.
You can’t breathe as your lungs are on fire, you are coughing unconsolably, you can’t see, you are operating a mini van that weighs at least a couple thousand pounds blindly and you are making one of the most dangerous maneuvers known to mankind; a left-hand turn. (Across 2 lanes of traffic.)
By some work of God, perhaps that guardian angel your mom always talked about.
You make it through the turn.
Your lungs still burn more than your tear ridden eyes and you pull into the radio station right on time.
You rush upstairs to the radio booth and tell your listeners all about the experience you just had.
The truly great experience is explaining it to your doctor. Three days later when that burning
sensation still hasn’t left, and a bright orange mucus is still flowing from your lungs. They take all the right covid precautions until you explain your story and all the nurse can do is laugh. She takes off her hazmat suit and calls into the hall, “Hey Sue, get in here! You’ve got to hear this!”
The doctor diagnosed me with aspiration pneumonia, only seen in toddlers who nearly drown in the bathtub.
Or really old people, who nearly drown in the bathtub.
Though an embarrassing diagnosis I told my mother with pride and a giggle,
“Well, if I died, I wouldn’t have been the first woman with a death certificate who read ‘Death by OJ’.”
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