Fragile Life

The crunching sound of her ribs beneath my stacked hands is jarring as I forcefully press down on her chest.

The feeling of her bones breaking is unnerving, as if to remind me how fragile life is. I hear a small whisper in the back of my mind that seems to recall my training and assures me "this is supposed to happen."

So I continue and form a rhythm to try and bring the woman back to life.

Focused on the task, the image of her lifeless body is burning an impression in my mind that will not soon leave. Her skin is pale, but difficult to articulate. It's not like someone who needs a tan. Her face appears gray, but somehow different than the aged highlights in her shoulder length, wavy hair. There is perhaps a hint of blue, indicating coldness, a lack of blood flow. The tip of her tongue is protruding from the corner of her lips and her eyes are partially open, but all that can be seen is the white beneath her eyelids.

I keep compressing, but have never done this outside of a training environment and can only hope I am doing it correctly.

Suddenly she takes a deep breath. This breaks my rhythm as I realize I brought her back to life!

Amazing!

I did it!

I'm overjoy---

Unfortunately, as quickly as the inhale comes, I see her fade out of existence again. Despite the obvious breath of air taken in, the color of life does not return to her face and I somehow intrinsically know my work is not done.

Interlocking my fingers, left palm on top of my right hand, I reposition myself and begin pumping again. After what seems like an eternity she takes another breath, but the same pattern emerges and she is not out of the (literal) darkness yet.

I count my compressions to stay on beat, but simultaneously note that "this is nothing like the movies." Isn't she supposed to gasp for air and then be fine? What is going on?

I hear a man sobbing and crying in the background begging to not let her die. "Oh God! Please! No. Nooooo, please! I can't live without her!" He paces back and forth just inside my peripheral vision, but I cannot give him any attention or comfort.

A voice of a woman I cannot see begins trying to calm the man...or perhaps just distract him from staring at the lifeless body I'm straddled over.

Every minute seems like ten, but I continue on. The look of death on the woman's face is becoming more and more concerning as I realize I might not save her.

When her lifeless body takes only it's third breath in the span of four solid minutes, I realize that my efforts are causing her heart to beat once or twice, but not continuously. A message is sent to her brain to breathe, but her heart is simply not pumping on it's own, without my assistance.

It occurs to me that I should be praying too.

My uncertainty as to if I'm doing any good here is causing me to lose hope. The idea that there is not much chance for her survival leads me to notice how tired I am getting.

Then, the sound of sirens pierce the night sky. "Yes!" This renews my hope and improves my stamina. I quite literally com-press on.

Moments later medics arrive on scene. At their direction I get up and move out of the way. The team of first responders all seem to have a job and do it efficiently. Two strap a machine to her that does chest compressions automatically and more consistently than any human can. It looks violent, but then again, I guess fighting for your life never looks pretty.

Another medic places a mask with an attached, self-inflating bag over her face that he squeezes repeatedly to send air into her lungs. Other medics get out a transfer board and gurney and work in perfect unison to load her up in the ambulance without disrupting the life saving efforts. I see the concerned companion climb into the back of the ambulance with the medics and his heart wrenching sobs are quieted by the slamming of the emergency vehicle doors.

I can do nothing else, but hope.

Did I do enough?

Wiping the sweat off of my forehead, I pace around for several minutes to compose myself. Intentionally deep breaths; in through the nose, out through the mouth. I'm suddenly painfully aware of how grateful I should be for each breath! It calms me and slows my heart rate as I take a seat on a nearby curb and watch the ambulance pull away.

I notice the emergency lights bouncing and reflecting off all the nearby buildings as it turns out of sight. The sound of the siren fades in the distance and the chaotic commotion of the last several minutes begins to settle.

The captain of the fire department, who arrived on scene separately, approaches and tells me he has rarely seen anyone survive unless someone was already performing CPR when they arrived.

"There's a good chance she'll make it because of your actions."

I hope he's right.