Just Blowing Smoke

Rare is the person in this day and age who hasn't heard the addage, "he's just blowing smoke."  It's a common enough term, but what does it mean?  Well, simply put, it is a metaphor for some harmless comment or action.  After all, smoke without the fire is rather harmless, is it not?  If there's not a fire then all is well and no danger is present.  Or is there?

Interestingly enough, I have been rather much of a clutz lately.  The entire summer has been filled with bumping this or that, falling here or there, and I was thrilled on Monday when I actually started to feel more like myself again.  The children were back to school, all but Gabriela, so I had time to actually get some housework done.   I've had to take it easy for quite some time, and it felt good to get down and dirty again.

Since it's been a very long time, I decided I was going to make some fried chicken.  I had corn and fresh garden beans and I was going to have an honest to goodness down home Southern cooked meal for a change.  I had everything ready and I felt like I was earning my keep again, if you know what I mean.

I shucked the corn and got it ready to boil, had the beans about ready to go, and all that was left was to fry the chicken while all else was cooking.  So I poured the oil in the deep cast iron pot and turned on the heat.  While I waited for it to get to the appropriate temperature, I set about making the batter for the chicken.  I had all the spices and ingredients on the counter in front of me and had already added the flour, salt, and pepper when suddenly the pot started putting off an extremely insane amount of smoke.

My instant reaction was to turn off the electric eye, but I already had a weird feeling in my gut.  No sooner had I put the lid on top then the entire right side burst into flames from the handle to the eye and on up to the bottom of the vent overhead.  I grabbed the baking soda and had a sudden blank:  Was I supposed to use baking soda or baking powder?  I grabbed the phone to call the fire department but all I got was a busy signal.  I figured it wasn't an emergency and could put it out myself if only I could remember.  So I called my mom who immediately told me it was the soda.

Looking back, I'll never forget:  you douse it with soda (as in pour it on), which I threw in great quantity at the stove.  After several attempts, I had thrown enough on to completely saturate the stove and put out the fire.  Whew!  The fire was out.  But the smoke was insane!  White billowing rolls so thick that I could hardly see and I was coughing from it already.

The older 3 children were outside playing and Gabriela was in the family room.  I knew by the facts that my eyes were watering and that I couldn't see my shoes that I had to get her out of the house before her little lungs got filled with the smoke.  I ran into the family room but didn't see her there.  I called to her but got no answer.  I grabbed a cloth and wet it, covering my mouth and nose as I called and searched for her.  Finally I heard Nyssa say that she had wandered outside already.

Thank goodness for that!  I quickly ran outside.  By this time, the garage was also filled with the white, dense smoky cloud and I told the children to move far away and onto the other side of the tree line in the front yard.  No way were we going to eat inside the house after that.  I told the kids to stay put and then, with the damp cloth in hand, ran back inside to grab my purse, keys, and to open the front door and a couple windows.  By time I ran out the front door, I was in another coughing fit, no matter how I held my breath while inside.  My throat felt like I had screamed myself hoarse and was burning lightly.

I did get the fire department to come let me know how long before it was safe to enter again.  When they got there, an hour later--I had actually waited for my mom to come help watch the kids and drove over to the department down the street since the emergency was over--white puffs were still billowing out the garage and out the front door, rolling into the garden.  Poor Sajak II, the stuffed dalmation in the front hallway was not visible from where we stood because of the roils.

Of course the firemen had me describe what happened and show them the kitchen so they could report it.  The pot on the stove still registered on the stove at over 300 degrees!  They took it, armed in their garb, and set it on the driveway, ready to extinguish any fire that may have threatened to appear.  One of them led me back to the truck to give a statement and to check me out.  He, along with his chief a couple minutes later, asked me if I was a smoker, which I am not.

Amazingly enough, in that very short amount of time, my carbon monoxide levels from the smoke inhalation was high enough to be concerned.  An hour after first exiting the house, my levels were over 7%.  I was put immediately on some oxygen to help bring it down.  To put things into perspective, anything over 2% is not desired but acceptable, 5% is unsafe, and smokers who average 2 packs a day may have a range of 9%.   Because of my levels, the fire chief called an ambulance to have the hospital check me for internal damage.

Three hours after admittance, following oxygen, albuterol to keep me breathing right and to keep my pulse up (even with the albuterol my heart rate was 87), 5 electrodes stuck to my body, an oxygen monitor on my right ring finger, and an artery stick to check my blood levels, I was pronounced safe enough to go anywhere but home, in order to give the smoke time to clear, as long as I promised to avoid smokers like the plague while my lungs and throat heal.  Fortunately, there was no major burns from the heat since the fire didn't last very long.  The carbon monoxide and cyanide were the big culprits in my burning breathing.

I came home for a few minutes yesterday to get some things but stayed too long. I could tell when it started to burn while breathing and my left hand swelled up all red and itchy and burning.  My hand returned to normal an hour after I left, though it still burns to breath at times.  After having the windows open and the attic fan running for 2 days, my children and I have finally been allowed back in my own home.

So as far as the cliche' that there's no trouble if there's smoke as long as there's no fire, I'm not too sure about that anymore.  See, even the smoke itself can cause poisoning, in the center of life where you breathe, in your bloodstream.  Just because one has no external scarring from the burns of a badly said word or negative action, even if done in jest, that cannot show the internal damage that has been done, whether temporary or permanent.  Either way, it takes time to heal from that kind of wound as well.

I am grateful that as soon as I saw the smoke I was able to act.  Nyssa started to come in the house to see what was going on when she saw the thick billowing clouds.  I had to be forceful with her to let her know that even though the fire was gone, the smoke that remained was still harmful and that she needed to stay away from that danger.  With her sensitive airways, it could have been very costly.

At first my children were like the people who can ignore the dangers of metaphorical smoke because they didn't realize the harm it can cause.  They saw no fire.  They just had to trust me when I told them that the smoke which was being blown was dangerous and deadly just the same.  In the same way, it is safest to stay a safe distance from the house that is enveloped by the poisonous gases so that we don't get burned and to heed the warning of those we trust.