Good in a Crisis

For the five years I was in college and grad school I worked as a lifeguard. I was trained in water rescue, CPR and first aid. Fortunately I never really had to put this extensive training to use. (Once I had to pull a panicky kid back to the wall, and once I waited with an over exerciser with low blood sugar while the Y manager got him an orange juice.) Really I was more of a watcher than a saver. Which is a good thing because it turns out I'm not very good in a crisis.

When Sam sliced her knee at our mission camp in Mexico I was first to respond to her scream. I had to mentally remind myself not to freak out and not to faint. But I couldn't think what else to do. So I hugged her and yelled, "Nurse! Someone get the nurse! What's her name...you know...the nurse." (I have known nurse Donna for years. But my brain just could not handle the complexities of not panicking with remembering names.) Fortunately Trent was quick to arrive, with Brad and Gary and Donna, and they took charge of bandaging and arranging transport and medical care. Someone brought me a chair so I could take charge of praying and trying not to pass out.

Yesterday, lunch with the extended family, serious medical crisis. (Not really my call to publish the details, which I realized only AFTER I'd posted much too much on Facebook. See, wasn't thinking.) Trent jumped into action. "Call 911!" I grabbed my phone and tried to remember how to use it. Phone app...where's the phone app! Keypad, I need the keypad. Isn't there an emergency phone button? Where is that? I finally managed to reach dispatch and communicate the pertinent details that we needed an ambulance at this address. Then the dispatcher was asking me all these questions like what happened and what's wrong and I'm all "I don't know! He's breathing, he has a pulse, but he's unconscious and struggling. That's why we need paramedics!" "But ma'am, is he choking?" "He's breathing. He can't choke and breathe. Can he?" I tried to remember from first aid. "Ma'am, check if he's choking." Dispatch and I were not connecting. Probably my fault. I was very busy trying to focus on her questions while figuring out what Trent was telling me while scooting Paul away from the drama.

Guess who is good in a crisis? Trent, yes, not surprising, but also Paul. Little man penned the dogs in the bathroom, waited by the front door, then led the way to the kitchen. He watched with interest while the paramedics worked, stayed calm, and held his questions until after the ambulance rolled away. By then, post crisis, I was back on my game and able to answer those questions calmly and to his satisfaction. He played several hours at the park while I chatted with high school friends and got text updates from Trent. (We were in town for our 25th reunion.) All his grumps and sass from the morning disappeared. He was in full-on helping mode. That night he asked if I was scared and sad, then he prayed. I'm blessed to have two men in my life who are good in a crisis.

Thanks to others of you who prayed. Prognosis is good.

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