If that sounded dirty, it was, but only because the culprit (i.e., the well-meaning but misinformed stranger trying to help) almost definitely hadn’t washed his/her fingers before using them to try to stop me from dying from the oldest of epilepsy perils: tongue-swallowing. And on the off chance you’re wondering why I’m upset that this person didn’t pause for hand sanitizer before SAVING MY LIFE, I’d like to inform you that my tongue’s pretty solidly anchored in there; death by tongue-swallowing isn’t a thing that happens, at least not as a result of seizures. If you don’t believe me, consult the The New York Times.
Although this transpired a while ago, embarrassment stopped me from writing about it at the time and is preventing me from elaborating on it now, which is funny, given the generally awkward nature of this blog (and the vast majority of my existence). Everyone has a hangup, I guess, and mine happens to be fingers. However, I was thinking about the appendage incident this morning and thought I’d repost last summer’s first aid entry just in case you see me having a seizure on the subway and are considering shoving your hand or some other foreign object in my mouth. Read it here, then go use your fingers to donate money to epilepsy research: