We live in a hundred year old house in the older part of town. If I am in a hurry, my "go to" grocery store is a small, locally owned franchise just adjacent to the business section of downtown as well as to older low end apartment buildings. This a fascinating store to shop at, not because of the store itself, but because of the people. Drunks, hardworking families without cars, the occasional druggie, mingle with people from the gentrified neighborhoods extending out from downtown. You can literally see people from all walks of life here. The clerks are friendly and on a first name basis with many of their customers.
Today, I am stopping for those all important limes for our Coronas while on my way to my favorite nursery to pick up potting soil. As I leave the store, I note one of the younger clerks on break, smoking her cigarette and talking on her cell phone. A young man in pajama bottoms, and T-shirt, the ubiquitous gimme cap and bedroom slippers is approaching the entrance. He stops, looks up at the sky as if entranced by the rain drops starting to fall. He turns in a circle while staring at the sky. His eyes roll back in his head, and he seemingly purposely throws himself to the ground with bruising force. I think, "What in the world?"...then he starts seizing.
I run towards him at the same time the clerk says, "He's seizuring!", and an older middle-aged man also runs toward him crying, "What do we do?'
"Don't restrain him." I respond, "just keep him from harming himself." The rain is pelting down. I quickly hand the man my purse and purchases, "Please put these by the ice machine." (It's under the entryway roof and protected from the rain.) The young man (I find out later that his name is Chris) is seizuring hard, head and limbs banging with great force. I place my hands under his head to keep him from banging it on the asphalt. Chris's gimme cap is off, and his slippers quickly surrender to the movement of his feet and fall off. His heels are banging hard on the rough asphalt. "Put his slippers UNDER his feet." I direct my rescue partner. He tries futilely to put the slippers back ON Chris' feet. I repeat, "Put them UNDER his feet." "I can't put them on!" my cohort replies.
"Here. " I say beeping my van open. "Get a bag out of the back of my van." I point to my Odyssey. (I remember later that I had a blanket there also.) "Call 911." I say to the young clerk. "They're already on the way." she replies. The backs of my hands are getting a beating every time Chris bangs his head against them. My cohort has the bag and is inexplicably trying to put Chris' feet IN the bag. Feet are tangling in the straps. "Just put it under the feet." I try to say calmly. Chris is drooling. The thrashing continues for an infinite amount of time...may be 3 to 5 minutes...who knows. We are all in a time warp. Chris finally stops. "We need something for his head to lie on" I say. A woman pausing on her way into the store says, "I've got blankets in my car." Light bulb. "So do I." I belatedly respond, "Mine are closer." She says. I smile and nod my head gratefully.
The blanket lady hands me two blankets. I put one under Chris' head and the other under my scraped up knees. I try to roll Chris to the right into the recovery position. He resists each attempt, trying to sit up. More people are gathering. "We need to roll him to his side." A male voice says. I respond, "I'm trying, but he keeps resisting me." I ponder. "Grab his hip and help me roll him.," I say to the hands attached to the male voice. Working together, me at Chris' head, the male hands at his hip, and my cohort all manage to work through Chris' resistance and get him rolled to the right.
"You've had a seizure." I say to Chris. "You just rest, the ambulance is on it's way. They'll take you to the hospital and get you checked over." More clerks pour out of the grocery store. "Look, he banged is head," one of the clerks says pointing to a bloody spot on Chris' head. "He fell hard." I respond pointing to his bloodied knuckles.
A young woman runs up. "Oh my God, Oh my God! What happened." "He's had a seizure." I say, "The ambulance is on its way." as I hear sirens getting closer. The young woman is in shock, standing there in tears, repeating, "Oh my God, Oh my God!" We have a small crowd by now, all standing around looking. The friend is stuck in panic mode, and keeps repeating, "Oh my God, Oh my God!" "Can you get her something to drink?" I ask the closest clerk, in hopes that it will calm Chris' friend and stop her escalating panic. The first responders arrive. I start giving them information."
"Does anyone have a cell phone?" Chris' friend asks, "I've got to call his Mom" I direct her to my purse." Apparently, I'm yelling because one of the firemen says, "You don't have to shout." I feel like sticking my tongue out at him. One of the clerks says, "I have one." Holding it out as the friend drops my grocery bag with a clank of the sparkling cider bottle onto the pavement. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she says, "I don't know her number." She is frantic. The clerk steps over and assists her.
I repeat to Chris that he has had a seizure, and the ambulance will take him to the hospital, as I gently wipe the spit off his face. I hand Chris' friend his debit card which had fallen with him to the ground. I ask her, "What's his name?" "Chris," she responds. The ambulance arrives. The first responders share information with the EMT's as do I. Chris is alternating between sitting up and lying down. The sun is in his eyes when he lies down, answering the EMT's questions. I go to my van and grab another bag which I hold up for shade for Chris while he lies down. Somewhere during his seizure, the sun came out.
Information exchange finished, the crew of rescuers assist Chris to his feet, as I remove the blankets so Chris doesn't trip on the way to the gurney. I look for someone to hand them to. The clerk with the cellphone takes them saying, "I know whose they are. I'll give them to her." I sigh with relief. We both look over as we see the gurney start to collapse as the EMT's move the gurney into the ambulance. They catch it before Chris falls off. "A comedy of errors." I uselessly respond. By now, the crowd has dispersed. I am jangled and thirsty. I decide I need something to drink. I purchase iced tea. I am right behind the blanket lady at the check-out. I thank both her and the clerk for their help. We review the event, needing to talk the excess energy out.
I walk toward my van. I think about all the people who helped. Hands and cell phones and blankets. I think about the only name that was given was the name of the victim. I think about heroes. People will go home and share this incident with friends or loved ones. THEY will know. But the greater community will be completely ignorant of this event. So many hands, attached to unknown people. There were no TV crews, there will be no newspaper article. But WE know. WE were there. We all responded as we could, all heroes in their own small way. Are YOU a small hero?
Peace.
Kismet
Copyright May 12, 20013
Today, I am stopping for those all important limes for our Coronas while on my way to my favorite nursery to pick up potting soil. As I leave the store, I note one of the younger clerks on break, smoking her cigarette and talking on her cell phone. A young man in pajama bottoms, and T-shirt, the ubiquitous gimme cap and bedroom slippers is approaching the entrance. He stops, looks up at the sky as if entranced by the rain drops starting to fall. He turns in a circle while staring at the sky. His eyes roll back in his head, and he seemingly purposely throws himself to the ground with bruising force. I think, "What in the world?"...then he starts seizing.
I run towards him at the same time the clerk says, "He's seizuring!", and an older middle-aged man also runs toward him crying, "What do we do?'
"Don't restrain him." I respond, "just keep him from harming himself." The rain is pelting down. I quickly hand the man my purse and purchases, "Please put these by the ice machine." (It's under the entryway roof and protected from the rain.) The young man (I find out later that his name is Chris) is seizuring hard, head and limbs banging with great force. I place my hands under his head to keep him from banging it on the asphalt. Chris's gimme cap is off, and his slippers quickly surrender to the movement of his feet and fall off. His heels are banging hard on the rough asphalt. "Put his slippers UNDER his feet." I direct my rescue partner. He tries futilely to put the slippers back ON Chris' feet. I repeat, "Put them UNDER his feet." "I can't put them on!" my cohort replies.
"Here. " I say beeping my van open. "Get a bag out of the back of my van." I point to my Odyssey. (I remember later that I had a blanket there also.) "Call 911." I say to the young clerk. "They're already on the way." she replies. The backs of my hands are getting a beating every time Chris bangs his head against them. My cohort has the bag and is inexplicably trying to put Chris' feet IN the bag. Feet are tangling in the straps. "Just put it under the feet." I try to say calmly. Chris is drooling. The thrashing continues for an infinite amount of time...may be 3 to 5 minutes...who knows. We are all in a time warp. Chris finally stops. "We need something for his head to lie on" I say. A woman pausing on her way into the store says, "I've got blankets in my car." Light bulb. "So do I." I belatedly respond, "Mine are closer." She says. I smile and nod my head gratefully.
The blanket lady hands me two blankets. I put one under Chris' head and the other under my scraped up knees. I try to roll Chris to the right into the recovery position. He resists each attempt, trying to sit up. More people are gathering. "We need to roll him to his side." A male voice says. I respond, "I'm trying, but he keeps resisting me." I ponder. "Grab his hip and help me roll him.," I say to the hands attached to the male voice. Working together, me at Chris' head, the male hands at his hip, and my cohort all manage to work through Chris' resistance and get him rolled to the right.
"You've had a seizure." I say to Chris. "You just rest, the ambulance is on it's way. They'll take you to the hospital and get you checked over." More clerks pour out of the grocery store. "Look, he banged is head," one of the clerks says pointing to a bloody spot on Chris' head. "He fell hard." I respond pointing to his bloodied knuckles.
A young woman runs up. "Oh my God, Oh my God! What happened." "He's had a seizure." I say, "The ambulance is on its way." as I hear sirens getting closer. The young woman is in shock, standing there in tears, repeating, "Oh my God, Oh my God!" We have a small crowd by now, all standing around looking. The friend is stuck in panic mode, and keeps repeating, "Oh my God, Oh my God!" "Can you get her something to drink?" I ask the closest clerk, in hopes that it will calm Chris' friend and stop her escalating panic. The first responders arrive. I start giving them information."
"Does anyone have a cell phone?" Chris' friend asks, "I've got to call his Mom" I direct her to my purse." Apparently, I'm yelling because one of the firemen says, "You don't have to shout." I feel like sticking my tongue out at him. One of the clerks says, "I have one." Holding it out as the friend drops my grocery bag with a clank of the sparkling cider bottle onto the pavement. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she says, "I don't know her number." She is frantic. The clerk steps over and assists her.
I repeat to Chris that he has had a seizure, and the ambulance will take him to the hospital, as I gently wipe the spit off his face. I hand Chris' friend his debit card which had fallen with him to the ground. I ask her, "What's his name?" "Chris," she responds. The ambulance arrives. The first responders share information with the EMT's as do I. Chris is alternating between sitting up and lying down. The sun is in his eyes when he lies down, answering the EMT's questions. I go to my van and grab another bag which I hold up for shade for Chris while he lies down. Somewhere during his seizure, the sun came out.
Information exchange finished, the crew of rescuers assist Chris to his feet, as I remove the blankets so Chris doesn't trip on the way to the gurney. I look for someone to hand them to. The clerk with the cellphone takes them saying, "I know whose they are. I'll give them to her." I sigh with relief. We both look over as we see the gurney start to collapse as the EMT's move the gurney into the ambulance. They catch it before Chris falls off. "A comedy of errors." I uselessly respond. By now, the crowd has dispersed. I am jangled and thirsty. I decide I need something to drink. I purchase iced tea. I am right behind the blanket lady at the check-out. I thank both her and the clerk for their help. We review the event, needing to talk the excess energy out.
I walk toward my van. I think about all the people who helped. Hands and cell phones and blankets. I think about the only name that was given was the name of the victim. I think about heroes. People will go home and share this incident with friends or loved ones. THEY will know. But the greater community will be completely ignorant of this event. So many hands, attached to unknown people. There were no TV crews, there will be no newspaper article. But WE know. WE were there. We all responded as we could, all heroes in their own small way. Are YOU a small hero?
Peace.
Kismet
Copyright May 12, 20013
YOU are a hero for keeping it all together and an Angel to this young Man.
ReplyDeleteOh, Susan. You are an angel and a doll for saying that. Keep in it together...Not quite feeling THAT but I thank you for the thought. I think my seams are unravelling. :)
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