As I sit here at my trusty laptop, my hands are still shaking. Sometimes, it helps me process things better to write and sometimes I think my experiences can help others, so, even though I'm still reeling, being here and sharing it seems like the thing to do. There's no way to convey this morning's events without being graphic in some way, but I will do my best to remain respectful. However, if you're tender-hearted or have a weak stomach, stop reading now.
My life has been utter chaos for the last 2-3 months. I've been working a lot, staying up late to squeeze in extra hours, and sadly, not waking up to my alarm a lot. This also means that my daughter has missed the bus more than I'd care to admit and I've had to drive her to school, sometimes with only a minute to spare. It's catching up with us. The kids have become moody and tired and I'm probably about ten steps beyond that. Yesterday, I got it into my head that we needed our old routine back. I took extra care to make sure the night went smoothly so we'd have a better morning and a better day.
This morning went well. The kids were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed a solid 30 minutes before I needed them to be. We were totally unrushed and my daughter literally skipped out the door to the bus stop. I told my oldest son to keep an ear on my youngest so I could watch my daughter until the bus came. I don't walk my daughter all the way to the stop. Instead, I walk about half-way, so I can keep an eye on both her and the house, just in case my little one attempts an escape despite his big brother's efforts.
This is all still so clear in my mind. I can watch it frame by frame. I stopped in my usual place and my daughter continued on. Then I overheard a neighbor talking animatedly. She didn't look overly upset, but she was pacing. When I heard her say, "Are you on you way now? I need help." I made my way over to see what I could do. I've known her and her husband for close to 13 years now. They're friendly, retired and have grown children and grandchildren, yet we never talk much. They live a few houses away and across the street.
As I approached her, I noticed that just around the corner of her house, her husband was lying on the ground. I've had medical training and CPR training, but my certification has lapsed as I'm not in the dental field anymore. I verified she was on the phone with emergency services and asked permission to check for a pulse. I knew I wouldn't find one. The man's wife gave consent and I dropped to my knees beside him. He was purple. His eyes were glazed. His body was stiff.
He was in his mid-70's and had gone out to pull weeds, maybe 15 minutes before, according to his wife. I checked for a pulse and, as expected, there was none. I probably checked longer than I needed to, attempting to will his heartbeat back into existence. He lay there in the rocks, ants biting at his legs, with an apparent head wound. The blood was already starting to set. I knew he was gone (which I didn't indicate in any form), but I told his wife that I was going to start CPR, with her permission. She agreed and I tried to recall what I had learned in my classes. I found the right place and began compressions. I remember seeing my daughter's bus drive by and thinking how glad I was that she didn't see anything. It wasn't long at all before I was fatigued and another neighbor came up and asked if we needed help. I asked if she knew CPR and she said she'd taken a class, but didn't know it. I continued on. The 911 operator asked to talk to me and wanted to count with me. My previous instructor had said just to do it to the tune of the song, "Staying Alive," which stuck and I mostly ignored the counting. A police officer arrived, which I only knew because I saw his uniformed legs. I didn't look up to see his face. I didn't ask if he would take over, rather I asked "Do you know CPR?" Of course he did, but my brain wasn't thinking that way. He took over and I went back to the wife and comforted her.
I made calls to their children and asked them to come. I didn't tell them what was happening, just that there had been a "medical incident" with their dad and that their mother would like them to come to the house. Mostly, though, I just stood there with my neighbor and wrapped my arms around her and we watched as the fire department and then paramedics came. I had no words. They hooked him up to a defibrillator and nothing happened. Eventually, a paramedic made his way over and asked how long the husband had been down. The wife answered that it had been 30 minutes at that point. The paramedic indicated that they felt it had been longer and that the machine wasn't helping and that they were going to stop. She responded with, "Whatever you have to do." and he again said "We're going to stop."
Her legs buckled a little as the information sunk in and she said, "Ok." All I could do was hold her as she processed... murmurings of "What am I going to do without him?" "What should I be doing now?" "If only I had checked on him sooner." The other neighbor who had come by while I was doing CPR told her it wasn't her fault and that there was nothing she could have done. I was glad she was there, because those things that I should have been saying just wouldn't come out.
One thing I noticed as I watched the officer and firefighters do compressions was that mine were largely ineffective. In my scattered thoughts, I positioned my hands as I should have on a child. Not one over the top of the other, as I should have for a man his size. I know I was compressing and was probably keeping his blood moving, but not to the degree the professionals did. I spoke to the officer that had taken over compressions for me. He told me that I'd done exactly what I needed to, but I was still worried that if I had done better, the man would have at least made it to the ER. The officer told me that my neighbor had been down for so long, that nothing would have helped at that point. I do remember from my training that the instructor had said, "If you're doing CPR, your patient is already dead. You can't hurt them, but you can help keep their blood flowing to prevent brain damage long enough for professionals to come and hopefully they can bring them back to life." Oddly enough, I do find comfort in that. I did what I could, and any compression was better than none, as I was the only one around who was willing and able to try.
So, I suppose there are several morals to this story. The obvious- love people while you can and appreciate every moment. You never know when they or you will be gone. Also, if you're not trained in CPR, you should be. If it's been a few years, take another class. I've taken probably half a dozen courses over the years. Some of it stuck, like staying calm, how to assess, trading off, etc, but some of it left my mind during the emergency. This needs to be second nature, instinct, for everyone and the only way to ensure that is through repeated training.
My heart is breaking for my neighbor. At least one of her children has arrived by now and her husband's body has been collected. It's a very somber thought. I still wonder what would have happened if I had left the house earlier. I know now that no amount of CPR would have kept him going, but if it had been sooner, maybe. I also have to wonder how many people drove by or walked by while this was happening. This all started during a busy time of day and people were headed to work and school. Could any one of them have seen him collapse? Could any one of them have noticed him on the ground? This was in the man's front yard- visible from the street.
There are so many variables and so many things that could have happened differently. There are answers none of us will ever have. I do know that this is the fourth death in my neighborhood in about a year and each house was within view of mine. I would venture to guess this neighbor had a heart attack, due to his history, but it could have been a stroke, or the head injury that took him. Another neighbor was taken by a heart attack, another by a brain tumor and the fourth was a suicide. Very somber indeed.
