You know, when you are taking First Responder, EMT, or First Aid classes they teach you how to do CPR. And half the time, the horseplay distracts you whether or not you participate. But you manage to get your little card to put in your wallet and you don't have to take this dumb class again for TWO whole YEARS.
And you think to yourself, "you know, the odds are that I am NEVER going to use this." In fact, you PRAY that you never have to use it.
And after about a week, you forget how many compressions to how many breaths and how to do the Sellick maneuver.
Now I've helped with CPR two times in two days.
Two days ago, I had my first big bad hairy call.
And you know, I can't talk about it much because of HI*PA and all that privacy legal beagle.
Last night, tones went off for a cardiac arrest.
Which is bad...I think. I still haven't gotten the hang of it. Logical progression in my brain would make Alpha BAD and Delta not-so-bad. But I guess it's the other way around.
Anyway, I ended up on the rescue.
And we did all we could.
Again, HIP*A. Can't say much. But I was blessed to the tips of my toes, when the daughter giggled and said "Mom is SO HAPPY to be home with Dad right now!" The look on her face was pure joy and you could tell she meant what she was saying.
Mom was over 90. I'm glad that we weren't able to bring her back. Is that wrong?