The (maybe unnecessary) Heimlich maneuver

That one time a guy was choking and I did something

Disclaimer: Literally nothing in this essay should be taken as medical advice or even medically accurate. It’s all based on anecdotes and hearsay. Please consult your healthcare professional or ChatGPT with any questions.

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It was an afternoon like any other at the office. The coughing from the executive area near us hadn’t yet fully registered in my consciousness, but my brain was slowly gathering that something was happening over yonder.

The CEO’s executive assistant, W, hurried over to our marketing area in her Dansko clogs and asked urgently, “Does anyone know the Heimlich?” For your information, W was wearing more than clogs, it’s just that I don’t remember her outfit like I remember her consistently-worn clogs. Unless I’m that terrible of an eye witness and maybe she never wore clogs.

She continued, “I’ve tried, but he’s too tall.”

Now, at 5'8 ⅝", I’m MUCH taller than the average woman who the Internet says is 5'3 ½". That day, it’s likely my statuesque height was closer to 6' as I often wore Dansko clogs during that phase of life. Me and W, you know. It’s important that I share about how tall I am because a) not only have I struggled with a height complex most of my life—I’m the short one in my family—but b) it’s relevant to the story. I heard a request for “tall” and cast a vote for that identity by responding.

At one time in my life I was an EMT and not just a Basic one. I was an Intermediate one, sort of IV-trained and all. Vestiges of the “Listen for sirens and serve” motto lives on in me still; it was even stronger back then. Sirens or not, someone was in need; and I was the best qualified and tallest option our marketing team could offer.

Like the main character in “Twas The Night Before Christmas,” “I sprang from my [desk] to see what was the matter.” I didn’t really spring, because that would be weird. It’s more accurate to say that, in a moment which indicates the bystander effect may not apply to me, I acted without hesitation.

Before you meet the recipient of my unwarranted Heimlich, I need to tell you about my aunt. She’s as relevant to this story as is my height, which is very tall.

A year prior, Worker’s Compensation mandated that she go to the emergency room after nearly “dry drowning” on the job. There the ER physician supposedly said she would’ve died had someone not performed the Heimlich maneuver on her.

Now feels like a good time to tell you to remember the disclaimer at the top.

Even though I’m tall, I cannot vouch for how scientifically or medically accurate this is, but as family legend goes, it was drinking ice water with her head tilted way back that forced my aunt’s epiglottis to close and stay closed. Rather like a slammed door—not a chance of anything getting in or out (including air) until something or someone forced the door to reopen.

My aunt shared that she felt herself blacking out and was about to use the corner of a table to give herself a thrust, when a student employee noticed her duress. She spell check built into Google Docs wants me to change “duress” to “dress” but that would change the story. The employee gave her the Heimlich, forcing things to unseal and getting breathing back in business. I don’t know if the company gave her a medal or anything, but if anything ever justified an Employee of the Year, this does.

The VP, let’s call him Chad, was in the kitchen where W and her clogs had left him. As he made futile attempts to breathe, he clutched the container of the offending agent: an innocuous plastic water bottle he’d taken a drink of good ol’ H20—wham. No more breathing for him! With confidence borne of my great height, I got behind him, wrapped my arms around him, and gave him a good abdominal thrust. Totally forgotten from my extensive medical training was that you’re always supposed to ask for consent and that sort of thing. Oops.

Remember that this is not medical advice nor probably medically accurate—just the best we laypeople do when we talk about the medical stuff that happens to and around! And also, please remember that I’m very tall.

In my defense, I figured W had already asked for permission, or if she hadn’t, I was just doing what she’d already tried. And considering that forty-two seconds had to have elapsed since his last abdominal thrust and he still wasn’t doing well, I figured we just sometimes don’t know what we need. It wasn’t that he wasn’t completely not breathing. If breathing is on a scale like the pain scale and 0 equals NO BREATHING and 10 equals ALL THE BREATHING, I’d rate his participation in this human endeavor at like a 0.6. But because these scales annoyingly don’t let you select decimals, we have to round up to 1.0 even though it feels too generous for his case.

After the first thrust, I gave him another before he finally coughed and moved up the breathing scale to like a 2. With newfound hope, or because he maybe never needed it in the first place, he waved me off. Or was it that my thrusts actually did something? Do I ever like to think so!

Truth be told, it probably was never his epiglottis which was sealed shut. He was probably having what we all know is a (goes to Google AI overview) laryngospasm, in which “water hits the throat, causing the vocal cords to spasm and seal the airway, preventing air from entering the lungs, even if no water enters the lungs.”

So, as much as I wanted to be the hero, it’s more likely that on his own he’d caught enough of a breath to give him hope of eventually breathing normally again. He began coughing and breathing in earnest while I stood there and stared, awkwardly I’m sure. “Sorry if I overreacted,” IMy aunt nearly dry drowned on water….so, sorry if I overreacted,” I said. He couldn’t yet say anything, so I continued with the question I probably should’ve asked at the start: “Are you okay?” He nodded, kept coughing, and I took that as my cue to return to my desk.

A few days later, we passed in the stairwell for the first time in the months I’d been employed at this company. There’s no pretending you don’t see each other in a stairwell containing only two people, one of whom is very tall. With a smile of unknown meaning, and in jest tinged with maybe embarrassment, he said “Thanks for saving my life.” Because I didn’t know what else to do, I played it off like a good joke. But deep, deep down, I’m going to keep thinking I might have just saved his life, whether he needed it or not.

Isn’t life cool, and aren’t people interesting?? See you in the next one…