"You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you,
as you are to them." -- Bishop Desmond Tutu
"I can't breathe. I CAN'T BREATHE!"
Chris bolted out of a deep sleep at 2AM last night crying out those fateful words.
In a panic, he bolted out of bed and into the pitch black main salon, and I followed close behind. He leaned over the sink and coughed and wheezed, muttering "I can't catch my breath..."
This was so shocking coming from my husband, my captain. Mr. indestructible. Mr "Walk it off." Mr. 10-times-the-energy-of-everyone-else-in-the-room. Mr. "I don't need no stinkin' doctors."
We were both scared to death.
Slowly his breath returned, and after much discussion and diagnostic detective work, we deduced together that he had regurgitated some of last nights tamale in his sleep, and it had lodged, Janis Joplin-like, in the back of his throat, obstructing his larynx.
Whew. Crisis averted. But this was our second family medical emergency in less than a week.
|Captain Chris and my mom in Puerta Vallarta|
|My adorable, spunky Mom taking photos on the Puerta Vallarta malecon|
|Mom and "Little Wilson" where we fastened him permanently near the companionway. He will be our 3rd crew member, and we're certain, will bring us very good luck!|