After yesterday’s “fried dumpling” mishap, my throat was sore for the rest of the day. Today, it’s not sore as I sit here, but when I try to speak — I can do so, but not for great lengths as I start coughing from the irritation. Don’t really know how far down the old windpipearooney that chunk progressed before I hacked it out, but it feels as if I may have left a bit of fried dumpling residue in one of my bronchial tubes.
If I get pneumonia, well know why.
Oh well, it’s not the worst thing to happen to anyone.
And I did get a new office chair today!
My 15-year dance with Parkinson’s disease has not been without its moments of fun. One such moment came during lunchtime yesterday. We ordered Chinese food. As is my wont, I had the fried dumpling. Love them fried dumplings.
I believe I was on my fourth one, when a chunk of ground sausage found its way past my lazy, sluggish epiglottis into my windpipe. A choked and coughed and eventually brought up the sausage chunk. And for the rest of the day, I could barely speak without coughing as I must have irritated one of the flaps in my vocal cords.
Dysphagia is nothing new for me. I generally get a little squirt of liquid into my windpipe every time I try to drink something. But it’s happening more and more frequently.
Back in 2010, I had a “swallowing test” done. The verdict… the muscles which cause the hyoid bone to pull the epiglottis shut were sluggish. That was five years ago.
As a result, we’ve decided to take the next step and adopt a “soft food” diet. No more chunky stuff that can sneak around that lazy epiglottis and choke me.
It’s a horrible feeling!
“Memento Mori” describes a style of photography that was all the rage in the Victorian era. Sitting for a photograph was a grueling, expensive event. The glass negatives needed to be exposed for long periods of time, and any motion at all would result in a blurry picture.
That’s why dead people made such excellent candidates for early photography.
Unlike today when we all have cell phone cameras and video recorders and have more images of our loved ones than we know what to do with, at the turn of the 19th Century, sometimes the only picture of your loved one is the one taken after he or she died. “Memento Mori” was a thriving business. Everybody who was anybody had their dead babies, children, wives or husbands immortalized by the unblinking eye of the camera
Take our “Corpse of the Day”, after the jump. It wasn’t always easy to tell who the living person in the photograph was. (more…)
The best laid plans of mice and men are interrupted by the grim specter of death. Sometimes it is expected. Far too often, however, one gets up in the morning blissfully unaware that it’s all going to be over with by the end of the day. It is to the sudden, surprise nature of the ultimate curtain call that concerns us here.
Welcome to… Momento Maury’s Blog of Mystery.