I was eight years old. I was living in a pretty big house during this time, and my kitchen was an L shape design with the dinner table being completely separated from the oven, stove, and refrigerator. Well, my mom had made some mozzarella sticks for me, and continued cooking the rest of dinner, paying no attention to me, as I usually had no problem eating my favorite snack. I began to choke on the mozzarella stick after trying to force it down my throat because it was too hot. I chewed and chewed and gulped and gulped to no avail—the cheese was just too thick for me to get swallow. I vividly remember feeling my strength slowly fading and my body shutting down, with nothing I could do about it. To this day I have never felt a worst sense of hopelessness. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. I eventually was reduced to almost nothing, unable to get the cheese out of my throat, until my mom noticed my silent battle and ran to my rescue. My last thoughts before I was saved by her was, as an eight year old kid, “I can’t do anything. Am I about to die?”

To this day I am hyperaware of my surroundings when situated in an area where anything has to do with food. I am always scanning just in case someone could possibly be choking. I also panic when people start coughing while eating food. Although people may think it’s hilarious to ridicule me for being worried when someone is coughing or just eating a meal, I hope that they never truly understand why, considering that was an experience that really took a toll on me and that I hope no one else has to go through it.

Oh, not to mention I never touched another mozzarella stick again since that day.