This week, the staff at our school took the Red Cross first-aid and CPR training course taught by my friend Kim Lines. She鈥檚 a dandy instructor and really knows her stuff. We all left the better for learning these life-saving techniques. They鈥檙e skills everyone should have.
As the day waxed on, people shared their own experiences and we heard a few hair-raising tales of burns, breaks and obstructed airways; in particular, times when kids were choking. I had a couple too.
Several years ago, I paid a visit to a lady with three children. We sat sipping tea in her kitchen while the older kids played and the youngest, around 18 months old, sat in his highchair. All was well until she flipped him a boiled wiener to gnaw on. I鈥檓 talking about a whole honkin鈥� wiener tossed onto his tray with a wet, wobbly thud!
It was not chopped into tiny bits to ensure an easy passage down his oesophagus, nor was the child watched to see how he would make out with the mushy, throat-clogging meal. In fact, as I recall, the woman walked away, leaving me with this tiny toddler who sat methodically mangling his limp lunch.
Naturally, the next sounds to be heard were those of noisy gagging followed closely by chubby arms raised in distress (his and mine). I scrambled from my chair and leapt to his side, but his mother called calmly from the hallway.
鈥淛ust leave him alone. He鈥檒l be fine,鈥� she said. Thankfully, he was, and presently he managed to work the whole business down his gullet. I, however, was not fine. I shook with fear.
My own children had every morsel of their dinners cut to a fine shred and were told to chew long and carefully. Each mouthful they took was observed at close range. As you can imagine, this attention was a trifle unnerving, and once they turned 25, was no longer appreciated, but I tried.
Of course, one cannot be present for every foolish morsel their children choose to ingest. For instance, I had no idea what was happening on the day that five-year-old Aliyah reclined on the grass in our backyard stuffing a toadstool into her mouth, or that Justin would try to swallow the equivalent of a side of beef at his uncle鈥檚 dinner table. However, they both lived.
I wasn鈥檛 so sure about that same child on my next visit to visit that woman though. This time she tossed a plum onto the kid鈥檚 plate. I watched in horrible fascination as the little fellow chawed his way down to the stone and then popped that in too.
鈥淗ey!鈥� I hollered, lunging to my feet once more. 鈥溾�滺e鈥檚 just eaten the pit!鈥�
She yawned, and almost leisurely stood as the child began the familiar refrain of retching that I assume was a regular occurrence at their table. Moving to his side without haste, she dragged him from the chair and suspended him upside-down in mid-air.
She delivered two brisk raps to his heaving back, the stone flew from his mouth and she placed him back in the chair to continue with his fruit, unperturbed.
What would Kim have done in that situation I wonder? Probably handled it better than I. I couldn鈥檛 take the stress, and never went back.
To contact Helen or to order her books go to myprairiewool.com or write Box 55 Marshall, SK. S0M1R0
