V is for Valor

Yesterday, my whole family went to eat lunch together. The conversation was merry, and someone cracked a joke. My grandmother was laughing, but then she became quiet. Everyone else continued on with their food, and the talk continued.

My grandmother was starting to hold her hand to her mouth. It looked like she was trying to cough, but nothing was coming out. Her face was turning red then purple.

"Po Po?" "Ma?" we called out to her, frozen in our seats.

She was choking.

The seconds stretched and our eyes couldn't let go. In my mind, I was thinking, "we're just going to stand here and watch her choke. NO NO NO!"

My Uncle V quickly got up from his chair, walked around the table and calmly asked, "Ma, are you choking?" She nodded, her face turning a deeper and unnatural shade.

Uncle V brought her up in his arms, locked his hands into the Heimlich position, and pushed. He pushed and pushed again. It didn't look like the food had dislodged itself. He pushed again.

No one else moved.

No one else breathed.

The restaurant was still, our eyes transfixed at this life-rescuing effort.



It felt like five minutes had passed...

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five...



My grandmother began to audibly cough. I sighed relief; hearing her cough meant that air was able to pass through to her lungs.

Paper napkins were passed so that she might cough up the remainder of the food.

Everyone was just too stunned to applaud Uncle V, but in my heart, my respect for his quick action in an immediate situation exploded into an ocean's depth and width. I have never seen anyone do a life-saving move in front of my eyes.

It was miraculous to me

and it made my day.