As Judy Tenuta used to say, "It could happen." It almost did. It's awful how I gobble my food. I made a peanut butter sandwich, just one slice of bread folded over, no big deal. About half way through it, I felt it wasn't going down. Then I couldn't breathe, at all. I quickly went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. I sat on the floor and drank a little. I knew this was it.
The idea that we have about four minutes of oxygen stored in our blood may be true. That is about how long until you die. But before you die you pass out very quickly when air is cut off, and I was close to passing out.
I thought "This is how they'll find me". Even in my old age I wanted to do The Big One. To do something memorable, as if to justify my existence. In a flash I realized my life had been my big one, not big at all, but it was all I had. A bunch of little things, done by a little person.
The water worked, my air was back. Stroke victims often have trouble swallowing. I had been marginal, no thickener for my coffee. But I was told to eat and drink slowly, and I did. I was x-ray certified that I could swallow ok. I drank some barium, as in "bury 'em". But now I had been careless and almost died.
God gave me more time to live.