Hanging on by a Thread (Part 1 of 3)

Read Part 2 or Part 3

For Christmas 2014 we visited my wife’s folks in northwestern Ohio. Instead of going straight there from Virginia, we drove to see some family near Dayton first. The kids had lots of fun playing with cousins, staying up later than usual, and generally wearing themselves (and us) out. At the end of that visit, we drove about two and a half hours to my in-laws’ place.


I think it was the afternoon of the 26th or 27th; I was worn out. There were two Christmas celebrations with two different sides of the family, but my young family had to skip one of them because the kids were worn out, sick, or getting sick. My oldest actually developed an ear infection, so we spent some time in an Urgent Care because of the pain she was in. I was beat, so I was laying on the living room floor, starting to fall asleep.

There were people moving around. My father-in-law, Lee, took a moment to sit down on the couch, put his feet up, and close his eyes. My wife and her mom Pam were moving around the area, working on a few other things as I drifted off.

Then I heard my wife’s worried tone. I don’t remember much of what she was saying, but she was urgently trying to soothe Lee. Pam came rushing over, too, and then there were two worried tones. I opened my eyes to see what was happening, and Lee, still reclining on the couch, looked like he was having a seizure.

I got up and ran over. He was unresponsive, his eyes were fluttering, and his body was spasming. I tried picking him up to lower him to the ground…no easy task when someone’s body goes completely rigid. I laid him flat on the ground, and my CPR training from nearly 20 years prior came rushing back. I checked for breathing, but there didn’t seem like there was any. I retilted his head to try opening his airway, but still nothing. I forgot to do a finger sweep to see if there was anything in his mouth, which ended up causing some complications later. I began doing rescue breathing on my father-in-law.

Finding a pulse can be a tricky thing. When I learned CPR on dummies, we didn’t use the kind that simulated pulses. As a result, we did a pulse check knowing full well there wasn’t going to be one. I tried his neck, I tried his wrist, and I tried his chest. I couldn’t find anything, so by all counts I should have begun doing CPR, but I doubted myself. I thought “well this might be a faint one right here.” In my mind it’s a scary thing to begin chest compressions, because that means someone’s in REAL trouble. I ended up not doing any compressions because I wasn’t thinking objectively; I hadn’t thought about any of this in years and I was scared of messing up.

Somewhere in this sequence we called an ambulance. Thankfully, there was a volunteer fire station not two blocks away, so they arrived very quickly. That time we spent waiting for them seemed like it took forever, though. Between trying to find a pulse, rescue breathing, trying to shoo the kids out of the room, and all the confusion going on, it was chaos. My youngest, who was a little older than a year at the time, crawled over Lee’s legs, cheerfully unaware that anything was wrong, before we got the kids wrangled up.

Once the EMTs arrived I happily yielded to someone who knew a lot more about what to do in this situation. Almost right away after evaluating the situation, they wrapped some kind of band around Lee’s chest, and it began doing chest compressions on its own. We filled in some of the volunteers on what happened, what kind of meds Lee took, etc., all while the EMTs worked on him. It seemed to take awhile, but eventually they prepared to load him into the ambulance. As they were busily moving about, I asked one of them “do we have a pulse?” I was very glad to hear “we do, but it’s weak.”

They loaded Lee into the ambulance, and off they went. I drove Pam to the hospital, chasing right behind. The trip was a short one, thankfully. We went into the ER and eventually met up with the doc on duty, and we told him what we knew. A flurry of phone calls, conversations with doctors, and newly arriving friends of the family followed. This particular hospital wasn’t well equipped to deal with this situation, so they prepared to transfer Lee via helicopter to a larger hospital in Toledo about an hour away by car. Shortly before the helicopter departed, the staff invited a few of us back to where Lee was being prepped for the trip. He was intubated, had IVs and heart monitors in place, and was still unconscious. This was Pam’s opportunity to see Lee one more time before splitting up to travel separately.

After a few moments, we left the ER. Some friends of the family volunteered to drive Pam up to the hospital in Toledo. We went back to the house and got a few things packed for Pam. My wife, deeply concerned about her father, wanted to go along too, so she got ready to leave. In a whirlwind they grabbed a few items and headed out. Once they departed, I was left there with my three young kiddos, just the four of us, in a house that suddenly seemed very quiet, and we didn’t know how long it would be before anyone came back.

Looking back, I didn’t do any chest compressions on Lee even though I probably should have. No, I hadn’t had any refresher training in a long time, but I knew what was next in the sequence. The reason I didn’t do it was because I was so scared of making the wrong decision (starting chest compressions when there was no need to do them) that I ended up making no decision. On the other hand, enough training came back to me to be able to help Lee in the immediate situation until more skilled people arrived. Ultimately the EMTs and volunteers’ speedy arrival was crucial in Lee living long enough to open his eyes again, but for the next few days we weren’t sure if that was going to happen.

You have to train now for things that will happen in the future. By the time you get there and need the knowledge, it will be too late to learn something and start new habits. I’m not talking strictly in the sense of emergency response, but for difficult and trying times in general. They’re coming. How do you react when things go sideways? What are you spending your time thinking about, moving toward, and taking steps to become? When hard times come, do you dig harder into devotions and prayer, or stop doing them altogether? If your track record is to be considered your training regimen, have you been training yourself to turn to God, or away from him?

Lee’s chances of survival were dropping the longer I hesitated. Even though I knew what I should be gearing up to do, I didn’t start doing it because I wasn’t confident about his pulse. The things you’ve spent time repeating, drilling into yourself, come back to you though, and you can draw on them when you need them. What do you do repetitively and regularly today in order to prepare yourself for when you’ll need it in the future?

Read Part 2 or Part 3

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