How I Felt Seconds From Certain Death

What went through my mind when I was about to die.

Way back in 2005, in the throes of a very nasty, acrimonious divorce, I almost died. One moment I was sitting at a restaurant patio dining table having an evening meal with a friend, and the next I was suddenly fighting for my life.

Maria was a mature English student, with whom I also had a platonic relationship, and invited me out for a meal. At the time my stress was off the scale and Maria thought it would help me to relax. As she was a very upbeat vibrant lady I willingly accepted.

Across the garden, just a few feet from our table, were a mixed group of American people from the local US military base in Rota, Cadiz. Within a few minutes, those people would be doing their best to save my life. And the one who succeeded was the most unlikely hero who knew exactly what had to be done, and how to do it.

Maria and I ordered some very nice BBQ chicken kebabs with veg and a side salad. Maria and I started to eat and as we were chatting I chose the wrong moment to breathe in.

I had a very large piece of chicken in my mouth and suddenly as I took a breath it became lodged in my throat. I tried to swallow it, but it was too big, and dry, which served to make matters worse. I started to panic a little and grabbed my glass of Coke.

As I poured the Coke into my gaping mouth it immediately spilled back out. The chicken was blocking it from going anywhere else. Maria looked at me in horror as the Coke spilt all down my front. She was wondering what in hell was going on with this madman. All she could do was look at me in askance. “Liam?” she exclaimed.

I opened my mouth and started to point inside, hoping Maria would understand. For whatever reason she didn’t. By this time the chicken was not letting even a smidgin of air pass into my airways and I started to feel faint. It’s funny what goes through your mind when you start to die and you know it.

I became worried that I was embarrassing Maria in front of those Americans and stood to walk off into a dark corner, trying desperately to cough up the blasted chicken that was slowly killing me.

Suddenly I was surrounded by a group of brawny American military guys thumping me on the back and chest. I have never been more thankful for having the shit beat out of me by a group of brawny blokes. Nothing was working. I was at the point of passing out when I heard some woman come up behind me with a chair as she calmly told me to take a seat. I had no idea how that was going to help, but she was my only chance and I did as she asked.

At that point, the restaurant manager came out to see what the commotion was about and realising I was about to drop dead in his dining area ran back into the restaurant shouting “Quick, call an ambulance, some guy is about to die out there!”

The woman then told me to lean forward a few degrees and wrapped her arms around me. She held her own hands to form a loop around my abdomen then swung her hands down quite forcefully against my stomach. All of a sudden the offending chicken flew out of my mouth and I started gasping as I drew in big gulps of air.

When I looked behind me for the first time I could see that she was the smallest person in her group, no more than a slip of a seven-stone girl. The whole group sauntered back to their table as if nothing had happened. I walked after them to thank them, especially the angel who had quite literally saved my life. I was so grateful I offered to pay for her meal and she politely declined.

I turned and went back to my table to see a very sheepish Maria. “Oh, Liam, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what was happening.”

“I know Maria, and I couldn’t tell you because I couldn’t breathe,” I replied.

A minute or two later the manager came back out and went straight where we were sitting. As he arrived at my side of the table he held his hand out for a high five, which I was happy to comply with.

“Jeez, I thought we were going to lose you. Please, don’t die in my restaurant,m OK? Your meal is on the house,” he said.

I have to say that I found the whole experience so traumatic I was still shaking the very next day. I did go back to the same restaurant once on my own and the manager treated me like a brother, offering me the best table and a free drink or two on the house.

On one visit another a waiter told me there weren’t any free tables. As I turned to walk back out I saw the manager come running after me. “What’s up,” he asked. “Oh nothing, your waiter says there aren’t any free tables, no worries, Manuel, I’ll come another time, I told him politely.”

“Oh, no, no, no, for you, Sir, we will always have a free table. Take a drink at the bar on the house, and I’ll get the waiter to put up another table just for you.”

The woman who saved my life that night used what is called the Heimlich Maneuver. The way it works is by using thrusts to compress the air trapped inside your chest to propel any foreign object which is obstructing the upper airway out of your mouth. These days I hear they call it Abdominal Thrusts. Whatever you call it, I think everybody should know what it is and how to use it to save a life.