Nambi: My Small Miracle!

Panic, terror and then guilt rushed through my head as I grabbed my baby who was choking to death. I tried to remember all the movies I had seen where they performed the Heimlich maneuver but my memory could gather no technique. All I could think to do was squeeze her stomach and stick my finger down her throat as her body was stiffening. I could see that she was fighting, trying to free herself from the terror that she was experiencing. I cried out to God, “Not now! I can’t take any more hurt!” I can’t lose her I thought. I cried louder, “Help me Lord! I don’t know how to save my baby.”

Guilt rushed though my body like a Chicago wind chill. I knew at fifteen, with bad teeth, that crouton was too hard for her to chew. I knew better! But she was barking and I was anxious to get back to work. This blog had taken center stage. I only had three more days before the launch. I needed to write. I needed peace.

But now, everything had stopped. My baby Nambi was fighting for her life. I was helpless. I remembered Oprah watching her Gracie die before her eyes and was saddened. Like Oprah, I wanted to make sense of it all. Two minutes into the ordeal I had already started to spin her death in my head. She had given me 15 great years. She was a wonderful companion, especially in those early years of my transition to AIDS when the quality of my life was reduced to home and bed when I wasn't out speaking. On those days, when my body was racked with fatigue and side-effects from my medications, Nambi would lay on the pillow over me and never move. She became my guardian angel and a reflection of my alter ego. She has been often called “Little Rae.” My significant other looked at me one day recently and declared, “That dog is just like you."

Nambi when she was young. She had so much hair! She's almost bald now.

Yes, Nambi has lived a long life far beyond her expectancy. In many ways, she is my alter ego, a fighter, defying the odds, just like me. I remember when the vet told me to put her to sleep three years ago. I cried and cried, and delayed and delayed. I had just gotten Sophie, who brought life to our house. Within weeks, Nambi had bounced back and was her old self. The vet thinks that Sophie saved her life. Now, Nambi is just old and you don’t put old people to sleep so why put an old dog to sleep? She’s been blind for two years but she finds everything she needs. She has a heart murmur and a small tumor on her liver but she is in no pain. Her collapsed trachea makes her breathing more labored at times but, for the most part, my old Diva is hanging in there. Yes, Diva. She won’t even sit on the bare floor. For real. I know death is for certain, but I didn't want it to be at my hands, that’s an experience I never want to have. I watched the vet as he put my Imani, Nambi’s mother to sleep and it took over two years for me to recover. I am certain I cannot watch another of my dogs die.

Nothing was changing, as I attempted to perform the Heimlich maneuver, squeezing her back and stomach, alternating with my finger down her throat. She was clearly choking to death. “Oh God, help me! Not this way,” I cried out. And after what seemed like an eternity, her face started to relax and her eyes popped back into place. I took a deep breath and then placed my finger down her throat again just to be sure. Her breathing was labored but she seemed ok. I put her down. She could walk but she was clearly shaken. The crouton didn't come out so it must have gone down. I picked her up, sat down and held her in my arms. I slumped over her body, and the tears starting streaming down. I was so grateful for this small miracle

Her old lady diva picture