We went to a late lunch with four friends, two Goth couples who didn’t know each other. It was fun. We ate at California Pizza Kitchen. Great food.

But while there, I laughed and inhaled the bread I was eating and could not get it out of my airway. I put my hands over my head, attempted to gag, got out and almost fell. (What was that? Was I running out of air? I don’t know. I just know I was going to my knees.) Then it was dislodged.

R said I should have made the international choking sign. I didn’t know what that was. Maybe they should teach that?

I definitely need to work on my crisis communication. I’ve never been good at it. Once I jumped into a nest of water moccasins and all I did was call R’s name. And swim very carefully away.

Anyway, I didn’t choke to death. I actually thought, while I couldn’t breathe, “Well, I guess I didn’t need to worry about the surgery. I’m going to die today.”

Apparently death itself doesn’t scare me. Both times I’ve thought I was actually at the end (once much nearer than choking), I was okay with it.

But looking towards death in the future… That bothers me a bit more. I keep thinking there was something else I should have done.