He was released from the hospital the next morning in good condition. Thank you for your prayers and kind words. :o)
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Ahmet...
This afternoon instead of Trikking directly home from work, I decided to take a leisurely ride along the seaside bike path and enjoy the beautiful summery weather. About 10 minutes along the path, there was a commotion at the water's edge and a crowd beginning to gather. I usually ignore this stuff, as there are almost always too many rubberneckers doing nothing but staring, but since people were running across the bike path, I had to slow down, so I took a look and that's when I heard someone shout in Turkish, above the commotion "DOES ANYONE KNOW FIRST AID?!!!" I left my Trikke on the path, and ran down to the water's edge where they had just pulled a teenage boy out of the water and were standing around looking at him, while a woman was crouched next to him shaking him.
I pushed through the crowd and knelt next to him. She had turned him on his side, I rolled him onto his back and saw that his mouth and nose were full of foam, but it wasn't moving. I checked for his pulse and there was nothing but cold, wet, still skin. Now typing it, I can remember every detail. At the time (an hour and a half ago), all I thought was Airway, Breathing, Circulation. I cleared the foam away with my fingers, tilted his head back, pinched his nose, opened his mouth, and breathed in two breaths, looking sideways to see his chest rise and fall, but hearing the awful gurgling of water in his lungs. I then started CPR compressions.
A few months ago, listening to a radio podcast that I download every day, they reported on a medical study that found that one of the best songs to remember while giving CPR is "Staying Alive" by the BeeGees. So as a gathering crowd of curious onlookers, wailing mothers, sobbing teenagers, and useless police, none of whom know CPR stood watching, I hummed the tune to Staying Alive in my head, counted chest compressions, and breathed into this young boy's mouth, pausing to check his pulse every now and then.
His lips were cold. His chest was cold. His eyes were half open and unresponsive.
Still to the beat of "Staying Alive" I asked for his name. The answer came back "Ahmet". I breathed two more breaths and went back to "Staying Alive".
A man came and asked if I was tired and could he help. Relieved, I asked if he knew CPR, one of us could breathe, one of us could compress. His answer, No.
...Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Staying alive, Staying alive....
The screams of some crazy woman continued, the police moved the crowd back. One of his friends cried "ölmüş! ölmüş!" - He's dead! He's dead!
The BeeGees continued in my head, background music for my silent prayer... Ya'Baha'u'l-Abha! A Baha'i prayer in Arabic.
This continued for somewhere about 8 to 10 minutes. I asked the man who had offered his help to keep an eye on the time so that we could tell the paramedics.... where was the ambulance anyway? And WHY DIDN'T THE POLICE KNOW CPR???????????
I felt his neck for a pulse. My other hand on his chest ready to start compressions again. I felt it in his chest a second before my other hand registered it on his neck. A beat!
...staying alive, staying alive....
Still no breathing. I continued breathing for him. Constantly checking his pulse, feeling short of hands, but surrounded by what was now something between 100 and 200 dumbfounded, useless onlookers. There was a woman next to me. I asked her if she could feel his pulse in his wrist. She could. I put her on the job as I kept up mouth to mouth resuscitation. His lips were warmer.
In the movies, they cough as they come to. Ahmet sighed. I watched him take a breath on his own. Then another. And turned him on his side.
For the next few agonising minutes, I begged for the boys on the beach to bring their clothes to cover him with. Maybe a jacket from one of the motorcycle cops standing around uselessly? Nope. No jacket. It's forbidden to take it off. I was SO angry.
Ahmet breathed, gurgling up water. He started moaning. His heart kept beating. "Staying Alive" had switched off, but Ya'Baha'u'l-Abha still repeated in my head, as we watched his ears turn from blue to purple to white then pink. He breathed and gurgled. His heart was beating.....
The paramedics came a few minutes later. They had an aspirator, which they put down his throat, and started sucking salt water out with. It wasn't the lungful that I was envisioning in my head. I stepped away from Ahmet, and talked to his friends. Where is his phone? Can you call his parents? I asked the police which hospital they were taking him to. The paramedics continued aspirating, and checked his pupils for a response. He moaned again.
Ahmet is at the hospital now. The police have my number and promise to call me and let me know how he is doing. I am afraid that his friends, who thought he was joking, and estimated that he had been underwater for two minutes, misjudged the time, and maybe he was down for longer. I don't know if his brain will be able to recover from the oxygen deprivation. I don't know if his lungs can recover from the salt water that was in them. I don't know anything.
I do know, however, that of the huge throng of people who stood there helplessly, I was the only one who knew CPR. And this makes me VERY ANGRY. I'm not going to "what if". I was there in the right place at the right time, and that's that.
Please, my friends, family, acquaintances...... please please learn cpr. You will probably never need it. I haven't needed it for the 20 or so years since I first learned it. But when you need it, you REALLY need it.
I stood there after the ambulance had left, and got very angry at the crowd, who was there begging to find out what had happened. They acted as though what I had done was magic, and I was some kind of black witch doctor from a foreign country. I told them that the Kizilay (in the muslim world, the red cross is the red crescent, as it's the red star of david in israel) teaches cpr. I urged them to go and learn. I told them that that could have been their brother, their mother, their daughter or son, their best friend.... and all they could do was stand there and watch him die.
I am still angry now. The police didn't know CPR!
Please. Go and sign up for a course, take your friends and family, do it together.
And please pray for Ahmet.
I pushed through the crowd and knelt next to him. She had turned him on his side, I rolled him onto his back and saw that his mouth and nose were full of foam, but it wasn't moving. I checked for his pulse and there was nothing but cold, wet, still skin. Now typing it, I can remember every detail. At the time (an hour and a half ago), all I thought was Airway, Breathing, Circulation. I cleared the foam away with my fingers, tilted his head back, pinched his nose, opened his mouth, and breathed in two breaths, looking sideways to see his chest rise and fall, but hearing the awful gurgling of water in his lungs. I then started CPR compressions.
A few months ago, listening to a radio podcast that I download every day, they reported on a medical study that found that one of the best songs to remember while giving CPR is "Staying Alive" by the BeeGees. So as a gathering crowd of curious onlookers, wailing mothers, sobbing teenagers, and useless police, none of whom know CPR stood watching, I hummed the tune to Staying Alive in my head, counted chest compressions, and breathed into this young boy's mouth, pausing to check his pulse every now and then.
His lips were cold. His chest was cold. His eyes were half open and unresponsive.
Still to the beat of "Staying Alive" I asked for his name. The answer came back "Ahmet". I breathed two more breaths and went back to "Staying Alive".
A man came and asked if I was tired and could he help. Relieved, I asked if he knew CPR, one of us could breathe, one of us could compress. His answer, No.
...Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Staying alive, Staying alive....
The screams of some crazy woman continued, the police moved the crowd back. One of his friends cried "ölmüş! ölmüş!" - He's dead! He's dead!
The BeeGees continued in my head, background music for my silent prayer... Ya'Baha'u'l-Abha! A Baha'i prayer in Arabic.
This continued for somewhere about 8 to 10 minutes. I asked the man who had offered his help to keep an eye on the time so that we could tell the paramedics.... where was the ambulance anyway? And WHY DIDN'T THE POLICE KNOW CPR???????????
I felt his neck for a pulse. My other hand on his chest ready to start compressions again. I felt it in his chest a second before my other hand registered it on his neck. A beat!
...staying alive, staying alive....
Still no breathing. I continued breathing for him. Constantly checking his pulse, feeling short of hands, but surrounded by what was now something between 100 and 200 dumbfounded, useless onlookers. There was a woman next to me. I asked her if she could feel his pulse in his wrist. She could. I put her on the job as I kept up mouth to mouth resuscitation. His lips were warmer.
In the movies, they cough as they come to. Ahmet sighed. I watched him take a breath on his own. Then another. And turned him on his side.
For the next few agonising minutes, I begged for the boys on the beach to bring their clothes to cover him with. Maybe a jacket from one of the motorcycle cops standing around uselessly? Nope. No jacket. It's forbidden to take it off. I was SO angry.
Ahmet breathed, gurgling up water. He started moaning. His heart kept beating. "Staying Alive" had switched off, but Ya'Baha'u'l-Abha still repeated in my head, as we watched his ears turn from blue to purple to white then pink. He breathed and gurgled. His heart was beating.....
The paramedics came a few minutes later. They had an aspirator, which they put down his throat, and started sucking salt water out with. It wasn't the lungful that I was envisioning in my head. I stepped away from Ahmet, and talked to his friends. Where is his phone? Can you call his parents? I asked the police which hospital they were taking him to. The paramedics continued aspirating, and checked his pupils for a response. He moaned again.
Ahmet is at the hospital now. The police have my number and promise to call me and let me know how he is doing. I am afraid that his friends, who thought he was joking, and estimated that he had been underwater for two minutes, misjudged the time, and maybe he was down for longer. I don't know if his brain will be able to recover from the oxygen deprivation. I don't know if his lungs can recover from the salt water that was in them. I don't know anything.
I do know, however, that of the huge throng of people who stood there helplessly, I was the only one who knew CPR. And this makes me VERY ANGRY. I'm not going to "what if". I was there in the right place at the right time, and that's that.
Please, my friends, family, acquaintances...... please please learn cpr. You will probably never need it. I haven't needed it for the 20 or so years since I first learned it. But when you need it, you REALLY need it.
I stood there after the ambulance had left, and got very angry at the crowd, who was there begging to find out what had happened. They acted as though what I had done was magic, and I was some kind of black witch doctor from a foreign country. I told them that the Kizilay (in the muslim world, the red cross is the red crescent, as it's the red star of david in israel) teaches cpr. I urged them to go and learn. I told them that that could have been their brother, their mother, their daughter or son, their best friend.... and all they could do was stand there and watch him die.
I am still angry now. The police didn't know CPR!
Please. Go and sign up for a course, take your friends and family, do it together.
And please pray for Ahmet.
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