A couple of years ago, the chicks and I were in the elevator of the city building. As the elevator approached our floor, the lollipop I had in my mouth came unattached from the stick and became lodged in my throat. I began coughing, but, instead of the lollipop coming loose, it went deeper, leaving me gasping for air.
When the elevator door opened, I spotted a chair across from the metal detector. An officer was sitting there, manning the machine. Still gasping, I sat in the chair and bent over, trying to dislodge the sucker. I had heard my kid say out loud that I was choking. I coughed so violently that I peed my pants. I looked for my chicks and they were on my left.
People were staring at me, some even saying that I was choking, but no one came to my aid, not even the officer. No one was even trying to console my kids who were just as big a part of the scene as I was sitting there making animalistic noises in pissy pants. Finally, the officer decided to call for an ambulance. The lollipop dislodged and my body was frantically pulling air into my lungs, just as the ambulance arrived.
After I had been cleared by the paramedics, the officer approached me and said, “Ma’am, I didn’t know you were choking because this,” he said as he gestured with both hands at his neck, “is the universal sign for choking.” I could have died because I didn’t use the universal sign.
The other evening, we were with my bestie’s family. I had a candy disc in my mouth that had split in half. I opened my mouth to say something and half of that candy went down the wrong way. I began coughing furiously. I looked at my kid and pointed to my back. I started frantically flapping my arms at my best friend who rushed over. By that time, no air was getting into my lungs.
When I would try to inhale, my throat was closed off, making this weird whistling sound. I was starting to freak out and then remembered her son-in-law was there. He’s a service member and I knew he would help me. He was standing up when the candy moved down enough for me to breathe.
As the scene settled, he said, “I wasn’t sure if you were choking or not. And so you know, this,” gesturing at his neck with both hands, “is the universal sign for choking.” How odd is it that two men reacted and said the same thing?
On the other hand, I again used my personal universal sign of pointing to my throat last night, which my bestie picked up on after a minute. To me, it made sense to point at my throat because both times I had something in my hand that I didn’t want to lose, making it necessary to use only one hand to sign. They only had their training and universal knowledge to go on, and I didn’t fit there. I could have died because they didn’t understand what I needed because the real life and training experiences didn’t align.
I was told that the reason I was asked to be a part of an episode for an upcoming tv show was that the things I had said in my Congressional testimony were things he had never heard before. He admitted to researching my facts because he was so shocked by them that he had to know they were true. It’s almost as if he had been taught a universal sign for poverty that kept him from paying attention to the poverty that didn’t look like that.
Just as some people were so struck by my testimony, I find myself dumbfounded that the people around me aren’t more aware. One of the most frequent questions people used to ask was where I found poor people, as if they were only around when the circus came to town. There’s such a stigma around poverty that it’s scary to talk about. Too many times it’s as if someone learns of your struggle and you’re classified as making wrong choices or lazily not finding a “better job.”
There are 50,000 WV children who will be lifted to or right above the poverty line thanks to the Child Tax Credit expansion. There are over 300,000 more right here in our state who would be if they all received it. Struggling families and children of West Virginia are standing here, pointing at their throats and waiting for someone to help them breathe. Call Senator Manchin and tell him to stop playing political games with our well-being. Senator Capito needs to hear it, too.
Rattle the windows.
Onward,
Amy Jo
