Live together. Die alone.
I’m no Jack, from Lost, nor do I want to be. But, I wouldn’t mind his company on my next Oceanic Airlines flight. He’s a little busy these days, what with the filming and all, so I decided to secure my own rescue skills, just to be safe. After all, no woman is an island. We live, work and travel in a sea of people, and sometimes those people need help.
After all, you never know when your plane will be a thousand miles off course and crash on an unidentifiable island, or more likely, a passenger will choke on the snack mix and complimentary beverage. The universal sign for choking might come naturally, but knowing how to help might not. Enter Emergency First Response training.
Certification only lasts two years, which means mine had expired. Admittedly a bit fuzzy on the breaths to compressions ratio, I was lacking the essential "confidence to care." So I signed up, read up and showed up for CPR and AED (Automated External Defibrillation) class.
By chapter one of the manual I was hooked. It had me from "Hello." Not only was I learning emergency care, but also people skills. Locke could have seriously benefited from this course. That mandatory introduction, "Hello, My name is John Locke. I'm an Emergency Responder. May I help you?" could have radically improved his street cred and fostered more friendships than his suitcase full of knives.
When I got to our class, I lunged for the baby model. Pretty good odds that one of the crash survivors would be pregnant, birth the baby, and then need to know infant CPR. If Jack's gone to fetch water or find his father, it could be up to me. Chances are a real baby won't make the handy clicking sound to indicate the ideal chest compression depth. We probably won't have a metronome to pace the repetitions either. And what about my sanitary mouth guard to place on the victims face before giving two quick breaths? Even Sayid can't whip one of those up in time.
But it turns out I might not need one. Then, on March 31, the American Heart Association changed the rules. Forget mouth-to-mouth if the patient experiences sudden cardiac arrest. Alas, was my training in vain? No, only if you actually see the patient suddenly collapse do you nix the breathing and go straight for compressions, hard and fast, 100 per minute.
This newsflash might have greater repercussions than some realize. It could be a clue. What happens the next time someone on Lost needs CPR? If Jack doesn't give breaths, it must be a flash forward. Unless they're still on the island, and they just haven't heard the news. Watch closely, Lost viewers, to unravel the mystery. Who knew the American Heart Association could influence the making of Lost?
Then again, the best approach could be sending Juliet for an AED. I bet the Others have one, maybe even two or three. She might as well pick up some gloves and protective mouth barriers while she's at it.
All in all I feel better prepared. The only life-threatening problem we didn't address was the time-traveling Desmond syndrome. Although equally hazardous, his plight didn't make it on the list with heart attack, cardiac arrest, stroke, complete airway obstruction, serious bleeding, shock, and spinal injury. Who are we to argue with what's on The List? I suppose if my neighbor in seat 13B gets a nosebleed and claims to be back in the '80s I'll just have to wing it. Too bad the barrier kit only came with gloves and a face guard. Where's a constant when you need one? Ultimately, it always comes back to people helping people. I suppose Jack said it best: Live together; die alone.
After all, you never know when your plane will be a thousand miles off course and crash on an unidentifiable island, or more likely, a passenger will choke on the snack mix and complimentary beverage. The universal sign for choking might come naturally, but knowing how to help might not. Enter Emergency First Response training.
Certification only lasts two years, which means mine had expired. Admittedly a bit fuzzy on the breaths to compressions ratio, I was lacking the essential "confidence to care." So I signed up, read up and showed up for CPR and AED (Automated External Defibrillation) class.
By chapter one of the manual I was hooked. It had me from "Hello." Not only was I learning emergency care, but also people skills. Locke could have seriously benefited from this course. That mandatory introduction, "Hello, My name is John Locke. I'm an Emergency Responder. May I help you?" could have radically improved his street cred and fostered more friendships than his suitcase full of knives.
When I got to our class, I lunged for the baby model. Pretty good odds that one of the crash survivors would be pregnant, birth the baby, and then need to know infant CPR. If Jack's gone to fetch water or find his father, it could be up to me. Chances are a real baby won't make the handy clicking sound to indicate the ideal chest compression depth. We probably won't have a metronome to pace the repetitions either. And what about my sanitary mouth guard to place on the victims face before giving two quick breaths? Even Sayid can't whip one of those up in time.
But it turns out I might not need one. Then, on March 31, the American Heart Association changed the rules. Forget mouth-to-mouth if the patient experiences sudden cardiac arrest. Alas, was my training in vain? No, only if you actually see the patient suddenly collapse do you nix the breathing and go straight for compressions, hard and fast, 100 per minute.
This newsflash might have greater repercussions than some realize. It could be a clue. What happens the next time someone on Lost needs CPR? If Jack doesn't give breaths, it must be a flash forward. Unless they're still on the island, and they just haven't heard the news. Watch closely, Lost viewers, to unravel the mystery. Who knew the American Heart Association could influence the making of Lost?
Then again, the best approach could be sending Juliet for an AED. I bet the Others have one, maybe even two or three. She might as well pick up some gloves and protective mouth barriers while she's at it.
All in all I feel better prepared. The only life-threatening problem we didn't address was the time-traveling Desmond syndrome. Although equally hazardous, his plight didn't make it on the list with heart attack, cardiac arrest, stroke, complete airway obstruction, serious bleeding, shock, and spinal injury. Who are we to argue with what's on The List? I suppose if my neighbor in seat 13B gets a nosebleed and claims to be back in the '80s I'll just have to wing it. Too bad the barrier kit only came with gloves and a face guard. Where's a constant when you need one? Ultimately, it always comes back to people helping people. I suppose Jack said it best: Live together; die alone.
posted by Catherine's Blog at 3:11 PM
