Warning: Graphic sh*t.
I stood at a man's feet, last night, ..
🕑 Added 2018-05-13 23:20:05 +0000 UTC
Warning: Graphic sh*t.
I stood at a man's feet, last night, praying.( My family wanted to take me to see a movie.)I begged God to spare his life, to give him one more day with his wife. She was crying, on the phone with 911. After running from theater to theater, yelling in superhuman volume for help, two men came forth to help this person. Only two.
The movie theater staff, no hate on them, had not one person giving this collapsed husband CPR or standing by his wife. At first, it was just me. I happened to need a restroom break, in the middle of the movie when this all happened.
This man was on the floor, on his back, convulsing. That's when I saw no one was helping and ran from theater to theater YELLING that a nurse or doctor was needed for a medical emergency.
I ran back to the wife, to stand by her side to try to start CPR. His shaking had stopped, in the short period of time I ran for help. None of the staff stepped forward. They were in shock, as if none of them had ever seen anything like it.
I began to ask the wife questions, as I approached to give CPR. He wasn't diabetic, he hadn't taken any drugs, he had no known medical conditions or allergies.
My mom taught me to ask these things, when I was little. She saved a man's life(and limb) after his leg had been amputated in a motorcycle accident she witnessed, as a very young mother.
I was afraid. My heart dropped out of my chest, realizing that I had no strength, my stitches had just been removed only days earlier. My entire body is weak, albeit stubborn. In the moment I dropped to begin CPR, two men appeared, from the theaters I ran to for help. A Navy medic and an off duty State Trooper. God told me to step back, to step back and do only what I could do- pray.
The Navy medic began chest compressions and the Trooper began his assessment, sweeping the man's mouth. The man began to turn blue right in front of my eyes. I began to cry. I knew in my heart what was happening. I just knew. My mother, bless her heart has spent her lifetime giving life, to four children and caring for countless patients as a nurse for almost 40 years.
I prayed the only prayers I knew, standing at the man's feet, careful not to get in the way of the men who were giving chest compressions I'd only seen done in movies- they seemed to pump his chest so hard that his body pushed his stomach out like a balloon.
I asked my departed dad and my grandpa to put in a word with God. Not there, not then, please don't let this man die. I spoke to my recently departed grandchild, who hadn't been given the chance to be born yet...... ask the Hall of Souls to wait for this one, just one more day. Baby Angel told me God had something to tell me. I need to listen.
It was then, I knew. The man undergoing chest compressions had just taken his last breath, looking at his wife.
The men didn't stop CPR. They kept going until paramedics arrived. Right there, on the floor of this movie theater lobby, a heroic effort began to revive the man. They hooked him up to an IV, gave CPR and intubated the man with a breathing bag to force air into his lungs.
I knew. My heart knew.
This man was shocked with the defibrillator. A team of uniformed men, strong and capable, never stopped trying to revive the man.
I watched one of the assisting paramedics fill a syringe with a fluid, I heard the word epinephrine from one of them.
Then, I heard the lead paramedic tell him no. It had been several minutes since the man had stopped breathing. His facial expression was surreal- eyes open so wide, they looked as if they'd pop out of his head. Glazed. His face was blue. As they wheeled him to the ambulance, in what I assume was a merciful show for his wife, I saw the man's hands. His hands were blue. His body was silent.
I knew.
My family came to my side, not knowing why I'd been gone so long to use the bathroom. In tears, I told them what had just happened. I asked them to pray with me. They did.
I told them that I knew the man had died. God told me.
After a little while of being in shock, the theater manager came to me, told me they got word the man didn't survive.
He was young, in his early to mid 40s, no known medical conditions. They declared he had a massive heart attack, one that I understood must have blown out one of his chamber walls. He died quickly, even before paramedics arrived. Two things happened at that moment.
First, I thanked God that the man was able to hold his wife's hand when he took his last breath. That was a gift that God gave to them, both. Second, I needed to thank my mother.
I, admittedly, was a horribly difficult child to raise. I was defiant, disrespectful, and unappreciative. I never fully understood what being my mom was like for her. She raised four children, on her own, working whatever jobs she could going to school to get her nursing degree. My mother watched people die often, in the hospital where she worked. I never understood the toll that must have taken on her spirit, her soul. Yet, she still came home and raised four little girls. After seeing death, after helplessly comforting people in their last moments.
I never understood what that felt like. Not until last night.
Last night, I watched a man die.
Last night, a lifetime of love and respect for my mother was born. Late in life, an appreciation for her was long overdue. It finally sunk in.
Mom, I love you. I love you because you never gave up. I love you for teaching us to love God each in our own way. I love you for having the strength to come home, after countless times of being fundamentally depleted, as a human being.
I love you for being the woman I pray I may be, one day.
You, mom, are my hero.
Happy Mother's Day, mom.
