Handling an Emergency When You Live Alone

According to www.weareapartments.org, there are 289,000 people who are residents in 187,500 apartment homes in the state of Kentucky. What matters to me, however, is that over the weekend I became one of them and something dreadful happened which made me wonder when our emergency 9-1-1 system is going to wise up and accept TEXT messages. Never mind, that MAYBE, just maybe, this really could only happen to me. In reality, I know it could happen to anyone.

Generally, I live alone. What happens when someone who lives alone encounters a life-threatening emergency? Last night, something really scary occurred while I was wolfing down dinner, while also tweeting, watching a DVD and reading a magazine. I knew it immediately. I little tiny piece of baked potato got sucked down my windpipe and in a split second I thought I was truly going to die.

And you know what one of my first thoughts was? You know that old saying about not being caught dead wearing such-and-such outfit? Yeah. That was what I thought. Briefly, while I pondered calling 9-1-1 and also thinking, “I can’t do that because I CAN’T SPEAK!” I looked down at my yoga pants and T-Shirt and thought:

“Oh, God! I can’t let someone find my body wearing this! Wait, do I have any makeup on???”

Followed by: “Do I have time to change before I pass out?”

Followed by: “Wait, can I text my situation to the 9-1-1 operator? I can type! But I can’t talk.” When the realization set in that I was choking and no longer breathing, I tried to cry but no sound came out. Then my chest began to hurt. Then I wondered if I was having a heart attack on top of choking to death. Then I thought maybe I should text my son or my daughter and let them know I need help.

Finally, the will to live kicked in and I doubled over and tried to dislodge the obstruction. Falling to my knees, collapsing, I still could not breathe and I could not cough. I don’t know if you have ever heard someone trying valiantly to get a breath of air, but it is something I will never forget. It is a sound of utter despair.

Just as I stood up and leaned forward I forced air into my closed windpipe. The rest is history now, since obviously it worked. Half an hour later, writhing in pain as every intake of air expanded a lung that would not fill without a fight, a violent coughing fit ensued. Sorry – don’t mean to be so graphic. Nothing was ever coughed out and even now, I have moments of terror at the memory.

It makes me wonder though. How many others live alone in our apartment communities who may not have someone in the next room to help them during just such an emergency? Wouldn’t it be great if our emergency response system could accept text messages?