My 6th grade teacher Miss Nucchi told our class a story… a true story… a reminiscence… every so often. I vividly remember one such tale: “Children” she always began, “I once knew a man who hiccupped himself to death!” There was an element to this that it COULD happen… but to ME?! Her story… which stifled any possibility of laughter and replaced it with a bit of terror… although I doubt that she intended to frighten us… continued… oblivious to our wide-eyed reaction: “He just couldn’t stop! He didn’t sleep at night and it went on for several days. His doctor couldn’t even help him!… and he DIED!”
I don’t think there was too much more to the story as far as description is concerned, but I had a picture in my head of how he looked; coming home from work… and his wife there to greet him… and he took off his hat… and called the doctor on the telephone… while his wife stood by his side, distraught! I don’t remember imagining him as having any children, and not as an old man but maybe in his 30’s. I had so many questions for Miss Nucchi: Did he go to the hospital? Was there an autopsy? Did his wife ever remarry? But, ALAS, no one in the class raised our hands to question her account of this “tragedy”… We just went back to our studies…. possibly traumatized?!
After all this time… let’s see… I heard this story in 1964… and it still comes to mind… not every time I hiccup… but often! I only get hiccups about twice a year… frequently they accompany a full moon! They last about ten minutes… then disappear. Fortunately, MY hiccups are NEVER fatal!
