Manwich and Meatloaf

For those who don't know, the Disabled Guy almost died. It was in September 2009, which was before I started this blog. It was about six months after my total-knee replacement surgery and if you've never had one, well, they're a bitch to recover from. People recover at different rates and it's a hugely major surgery. At this point, I was walking without a cane, but I had to be careful about how I walked (where I put my feet and such) and I was also slow to stand up- that's important to this little story.

For that do know, you've also read the story in the local newspaper.

So, I had gone to the VA hospital for a regular doctor appointment. That meant, not only was I tired from the hour's drive there and back, I had to traipse all over the damn hospital, because that's how they do things there. DG cooked dinner that night- which I appreciated. He made meatloaf, which none of us appreciated. We're not fans of meatloaf, but it's cheap and easy. The kids really disliked meatloaf and they would always complain about having it. But hey, they don't pay the bills, right?

For some reason, DG had gone to McDonald's that day for lunch, but didn't think it was worth telling us. And when I asked him what he'd had for lunch, he replied: "Soda." *pause* "Cakes and... stuff." I finally got it out of him that he'd gone to McDonald's and we all teased him about "soda. Cakes and stuff." While we were eating dinner, we were still joking, like we tend to do, and laughing about stuff.

DG made a comment, took a forkful of food, and then started to laugh.

About a half-second later, he started to choke. If you've only witnessed choking in the TV/movie sense, let me tell you, it is nothing at all like that. At all. He went from fine, laughing to no sound and purple in a matter of seconds. I know how to do the Heimlich. I used to be certified in the whole CPR stuff when I worked as a security guard (I was a shift supervisor, so I was apparently required to be CPR certified). But you just don't forget it because your card expires, but I digress.

I was sitting right next to DG when this happened. Jase was next to him, but on end of the table. (Jase was 17 then, just so you know). We simultaneously realized that he was choking. I started to stand up, but I wasn't standing up very fast. I had my hand on the back of my chair and I was half-standing and I said: "Jason..." and he was already on his feet.

I still remember what I was trying to say. I was going to say: "Jason, do the Heimlich. I can't." (or "I can't get up"). But, I said, "Jason" and he was already moving. Jase stood behind him, grabbed him and did it, three times. The third time, up came everything.

Yeah, by the way, that's something they don't tell you when they teach this- the person getting the Heimlich almost always will throw up. Everything.

Well, quite obviously, we have not made meatloaf for dinner since. Not once in nearly two years. Not that we're complaining.

Onto the Manwich part of the title. The very second blog post I did here was about Hamburger Sams.

Today is Friday. My youngest daughter works as a hostess in a dinner club and she leaves for work at 330 PM. Jase had his first day at his new job (Gander Mountain!) and I didn't know what time he'd be home. And my oldest daughter is coming home for the weekend (she lives an hour and a half away). So, I decided to make Manwich/Sloppy Joes for dinner and put it in the crock pot so it would be ready to eat any time, for anyone.

I walked downstairs and said to DG: "I'm making Manwich for dinner tonight."

He looked up, a horrified expression on his face. "Why?!"

I glanced around and looked back at him. "Why what?"

His eyes narrowed and he asked: "What did you say?"

I replied: "Manwich... you know... sloppy Joes."

He exclaimed, "Oh! Okay, yeah. Okay."

I had to ask: "What the hell did you think I said?"

"Meatloaf!" and he shuddered. "Uuggh!"

I should have just said Hamburger Sams.