Avalanche: (n) a mass of snow, ice, and rocks falling rapidly down a mountainside.
Every once in a while, I catch myself thinking about it: preferable ways to die. Or maybe better stated, worst ways to die. Since I’ve never died before, all of this is mere casual speculation.
I guess I’ve had a couple of near-death experiences, but never where my heart stopped, though I can relate times when it seemed like I was brain-dead.
But I certainly would not like to be buried under an avalanche, even though a lot of people actually do survive the process.
I don’t like the sensation of feeling crowded or smothered.
As a kid when I played football, it really bothered me to get to the bottom of a pile-up. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think and I wanted to scream.
Matter of fact, one time in the midst of a celebration after a game, all the guys ended up jumping on top of each other and I was on the bottom and became so frantic that I physically threw all of them to the side, scaring the hell out of most of the team because I was screaming and ranting.
Whenever I find myself in close quarters or have something laying on top of my chest, I have to go inside myself and speak to my raging bull to keep from flailing at the air and spewing obscenities.
If I suddenly found myself covered by snow and there was still enough air to breathe, well…I don’t know.
I’m just afraid that I would strike out at the surrounding frozen environment…in a losing effort.
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