ItÂ’s been a busy week of 18 to 20 hr days of combined work and home responsibilities. I knew this week would be hell, and armed with my trusty Treo I was ready for anything that came my wayÂ… or so I thought.

Sitting in meeting after meeting, wearing my monkey suit and 3 1/2in heels, I kept my sanity by either working on silly posts on my cell phone, or composing bad poetry as commentary to my dear blog dadÂ’s posts. However, in all that writing, never in my wildest dreams did I expect a silly blog post about a little black make up bag to foreshadow real life events. The actual events ended with me actually saving several lives with my make-up bag. Never, in a million years could I have thought that would be possible. One yes, but several????? Never!

You see, when I wrote this post I was sitting in an auditorium listening to the most boring presentation ever. As I went into my purse to pull out a piece of gum, I started thinking about a post my blog dad wrote last week implying womenÂ’s purses were like awful black holes. I thought it was an unfair characterization because my purses are always well organized, precisely because I donÂ’t want to spend time rifling for what I need.

So, in response to blog dadÂ’s missive (which I gave up posting a comment on because it got caught in the galactic spamming war between fluffy and spammers), I wrote this silly post. As I wrote out the inventory of the items in my little black make up bag, I realized that a few items were about to expire so I made note in my Treo and scheduled to pick up the things before attending my son's school awards dinner that evening.

Because IÂ’m a vegetarian I normally eat before a function so as not to sit through an event wishing there would be something for me to eat. So I looked around me while people ate their meal and I drank my water. Suddently I notice that next to me was a woman who was scratching up a storm and turning blotchy. I offered her Benadryl and she acknowledged she seemed to be having an allergic reaction to something. A few tables away I noticed a man who was not only scratching and turning blotchy but was also developing huge hives. Then I noticed a child at the next table who was holding his throat and having difficulty breathing. Within 30 sec. the kid was barely able to breathe or talk and I knew something had to be done.

As others at his table were probably discussing what to do (they were talking in a Pakistani dialect), I pulled out my cell and my little black make up bag. As I knelt next to his chair I asked the boy if anything was stuck in his throat. When he shook his head no I dialed 911, pushed the plates in front of us out of the way, opened my make up bag spilling the contents onto the table and as I spoke to the 911 dispatcher I checked the boyÂ’s carotid artery for his pulse. It was weak and his color was turning darker. I interrupted the awards ceremony by yelling out for a nurse on the odd chance that one of the other parents couldÂ’ve helped, but no one responded. While the little boy turned darker and clutched at his throat I picked him up and laid him on the floor and asked my son to go get the principal and then go stay with his teacher.

Kneeling beside the little boy, I put my Treo in speakerphone mode, grabbed someone’s hand and said to them “hold this and don’t move”.

I then turned to the parents and asked if they understood me & could tell me if the son had any allergies or medical conditions. They just blinked at me. Luckily, someone immediately jumped in and began translating - he was allergic to shellfish.

That's what I suspected and I told the 911 dispatcher, which then relayed the info to the EMT team on their way to us. I pulled out my Epi-pen my out & uncapped it and asked the dispatcher to put me through directly to the EMT team. I knew I would have to give the kid a portion of my Epi-pen but couldn't estimate how much. The older man I had previously watched started making choking sounds as I talked to the EMT team. I knew if they passed out, giving mouth to mouth would be useless if their trachea was swollen shut, so I pulled out the alcohol swabs and my swiss army knife scissors.

As I continued talking alternating between the EMT's and the parents I kept checking the kid's pulse & eyeing the adult a few feet away still sitting in a chair. I then just went ahead and cut into the bottom of the kid's pant leg and ripped the pant leg apart upto his thighe. The parents gasped as I did this because it seems the translator was behind in translating my explanation. I then ripped opened the swabs, dabbed the kids's thigh and paused to explain that I was about to stab the child with my epi-pen, a medicine for allergic reactions, that would then help their child to breathe. As I waited for the EMTÂ’s to explain how much medicine a kid of his age and height should get "hypothetically speaking" I grabbed the kids leg and waited as they made the calculations on their end.

The scared little boy was swelling up faster than I expected and since the EMT’s didn’t want to take the responsibility for me administering medicine beyond giving me the damn cursory answer to my “hypothetical” questions, I went ahead and plunged the Epi-pen in the little boy’s thigh giving him almost half the dose of what I would normally take. After monitoring his pulse, and breathing for a few seconds, I asked the Principal who was then by my side, to get somebody to go to the front door to wait for the EMT’s and direct them to our room. I then asked her to call out the child’s status every 30 seconds and doused her hand with water and positioned her wet hand close to the boy’s nostrils to monitor breathing strength and duration of exhales and inhales.

When I got to the older man I noticed he was bluish and about to pass out. I quickly asked about illnesses, known allergies, and medications. He was only able to respond by shaking his head a few times before passing out.

Someone helped me put the man on the floor and I agan tore through his pants and after dabbing him with an alcohol swab stabbed him with the remaining contents of my Epi-pen. I prayed there would not be any complications for either the little boy or the man because I knew very little I about them and their medical history. All I could hope for was that they would stabilize quickly. I had done all I could. All that was left to do was prepare to do CPR & wait. Wait for the medicine to reverse the effects of the toxins in their bodies, wait for the EMTÂ’s to finally arrive and wait for physiological changes to show these 2 would survive.

I left someone watching over the older man just as I had done with the principal and returned to the little boy. According to the principal he had just stopped breathing. Scared to death I began CPR. Inwardly I prayed the Lords prayer spaced out in seconds, in the hope that my prayer would be heard and a miracle would take place. My inner prayer vigil ended with the arrival of the EMTÂ’s. A collective sigh of relief was heard by those of us that were still there. One of the EMT's took over CPR as I briefed them on what had happened in the last few minutes, after we had lost radio contact. The boy stirred and the EMTÂ’s split up. I remained sitting on the cold floor answering the EMT's questions as he examined the boy, and in between my answers I waited... hoping, praying really, for the child to stir more. I wanted the little boy to be able to grow up and get to enjoy the life his parents wanted for him. His mother was being held onto by his father, who had a terrified look on his face. You could almost sense the fear as they focused on the center of their universe laying lifeless before me.

As the EMT began CPR on the older man he regained consciousness briefly, which gave everyone hope that the little boy would soon follow. The severity of and recovery from an allergic reaction is totally dependent on how much and how quickly the toxin was consumed.

A lifetime seemed to pass before the little boy finally stirred again. Those that remained in the dining hall were so relieved they broke into spontaneous applause. Having arrived at the end of my rollercoaster ride, I finally looked up to the heavens and said thank you for another answered prayer.

As the EMT’s waited for the 2nd ambulance to transport the elder man, I began to slowly pack up all my stuff. The EMT caring for the boy looked up at me, and must have seen the weariness on my face, because his next question was: “How Yu doin’?“ imitating, I thought, the character of Tony in Friends. This made me bust out in uncontrollable laughter. He turned to the parents and said: Mom, Dad your boy is going to be okay. The hugest grin came across their faces and tears began to streak the parents faces. After my laughter died down, he said to me: “Seriously… you did good!” I confessed to him that for a few minutes there I thought I hadn’t done good, that I had taken to long to give him the medicine. I explained that I hesitated while the little boy was unconscious, questioning myself whether I should act or wait for you and that afterwards I wondered if I should have given the medicine at all. To which he said: “Don’t we all”, and he went on to give me insight into how knowing when to give meds only comes with experience and even then it adds to the stress of the job.

Well, I had so much adrenaline still coursing through my veins when I got home that I cleaned my entire apartment after putting my son to bed, completely overhauled and upgraded a clientÂ’s computer, slept only for 2 hours and have not had an ounce of coffee in order to stay awake.

This all makes me wonder how MacGiverÂ’s character dealt with having averted mass destruction and saving countless lives simultaneously once a week.

Posted by: Michele at 01:58 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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