/lit/ - Literature

I might be some sort of hero.

After all, I did perform four life-saving acts of heroism by now. That doesn't make me feel heroic, though. All it does is make me dread the fifth.

I don't have any superpowers. The only tool in my disposal is a simple procedure known as "the Heimlich maneuver". It is used to dislodge obstructions from the breathing tract of an individual, by pushing up on their chest really hard. It doesn't require special training, but you can't do it on yourself.

First time. I just came back home from school, taking off my shoes in the mudroom. Dad was eating dinner, when suddenly, he dropped on all fours and started to crawl toward me, making these nightmarish, pained noises of a man desperately trying to draw a breath, unable to ask for help.
Nobody else was around, but I knew what to do: I wrap my hands around his torso from the back, and I pull up as hard as I can. My dad is a large man, and I don't mean tall: my arms can't reach all the way, and my strength is not enough. I am in fear. I tell him to try and cough. I pull harder. It feels like trying to wrestle a tree, there is no impact or effect. Finally, I hear breathing and coughing. I always hear from people who went through extreme trouble, that adrenaline makes "time slow down". For me the opposite: everything was on fast-forward, no time to think.

Second time was scarier. He was eating downstairs, and had to crawl up to reach me. I had headphones on, and thankfully he made enough noise to get me alarmed. The stairwell in our house is not wide enough for me to go into Heimlich position: I have to watch him complete the journey all the way.

Third time was much scarier still. He was not even eating anything, just working at his desk. He vomited a tiny bit of acid, and it got stuck. I'm there. I start getting paranoid. I take off my headphones frequently. There are gaps of many months between the incidents, yet still I misinterpret every noise as choking and thrashing for help. I never close my door.

Now he can start chocking without any food or anything involved. Out of nowhere, he could start suffocating. What if nobody around knows to do the maneuver, and people just watch him die? What if he's home alone?

All of that pales in comparison to how scary the fourth time is. Thirty minutes back from me writing this, I am asleep in my bed, and dad starts choking in his sleep. Through my closed door, and through my dreams, his pained moan somehow reaches. Before my brain realizes what's going on, my body has already lept out and into their room, and onto his back. Mother is waking up, scared: "What do I do?"
My brain is still catching up, still trying to process, and my hands are already pulling. One, two - and there's breathing. Reliable.
I moved like a trained professional. It astounds me how fast I reacted. It feels like someone took over my body and controlled me for 10 seconds. I have saved my old man's life, and I don't feel heroic.