Steffi, aged 16, writes about one of the times when her little brother, Johnny, got sick and had to have emergency medical aid by paramedics when he stopped breathing.
Call it a fear, but I am scared to death of emergencies. I am scared of ambulances, and I am scared that people I love will only end up dying if they don't get the help they need in time.
Such was a time when my little brother, Johnny, got sick and ended up needing CPR after his heart and his breathing stopped.
He was only seven then. He had suffered a seizure, and he somehow choked on his saliva during the seizure; and he stopped breathing. (I was 13.) We had heard him coughing and gasping for air, but by the time we had gotten to him, he was lying on the ground in a small heap; and he wasn't moving.
When I turned him over onto his back, his head fell to the one side limply, and I noticed that his lips and face were a pale, greyish blue. His eyes were closed, and his small chest didn't appear to be moving. Whereupon, I got scared, and in my panicked state, I yelled at one of my brothers or sisters to call for an ambulance, as Johnny wasn't breathing.
I tried to start mouth to mouth resuscitation on my little brother, but it was then when checking for a pulse, that I discovered that he had none. His heart had STOPPED BEATING, and he WASN'T breathing! I started crying, and I screamed, "HE ISN'T BREATHING, AND HE HAS NO PULSE! OH, MY GOD, JOHNNY'S DEAD!!" (He wasn't; but he WAS in dire straits.)
Not even five minutes later, the ambulance came screeching to a halt in our driveway, its siren dying in mid-wail; and the paramedics came running over to where Johnny was lying on the ground. By this time, I was shaking like a leaf, and I was crying uncontrollably.
The paramedics took over, and they were soon busy trying to revive my little brother. They were pushing on his small chest with their hands, and they were trying to get a breathing tube down his throat. They attached a bag to the tube once they got it in, and they were squeezing the tube every few seconds, trying to get oxygen to his still lungs. Johnny didn't move; he still lay there, unmoving, unfeeling, unaware of what was going on or what was happening to him.
It wasn't long before they got him into the back of the ambulance, but in the meantime, they were still working on him, trying to save his life. Johnny still was limp and unresponsive. I thought for sure he was dead (or at least pretty close TO it) by now. The ambulance then backed out of our driveway after the doors were locked, and it soon was speeding to Nashville Memorial Hospital.
We had followed the ambulance to the hospital, and we waited for what seemed like hours for the doctor to tell us the bad news that Johnny had died. We were all absolutely terrified, and we weren't sure as to what was going on or what was happening to him in the Emergency Room. We could hear the loudspeaker announcing the Code Blue, and we could hear Dr. Emmons, our doctor, being paged over the loudspeaker. I don't know when I had been so scared, or so worried. Johnny was just a child; he was only seven years old, and he didn't deserve to be in the predicament he was presently in! I was worried that he was going to die, but I was mainly worried about mom; she had already lost three of her own children, and she didn't handle bad news all that well, especially if it involved one of her very own children.
About a half hour later, Dr. Emmons came up to us. He looked tired and beaten as he greeted us, but at the same time, he looked totally relieved. "Johnny has started breathing on his own, and his pulse has returned; he has managed to survive the crisis", he told us. "He choked while he had the seizure, and it cut off his airway; this was why he choked in the way he did, and this is why he stopped breathing. But he is now very much alive, and as soon as we are finished with his treatment, he will be placed into the Intensive Care ward; that way, we can keep a close eye on him, in case any more episodes should happen to unexpectedly crop up. With Johnny's health being so delicate, one can't be too careful. He is definitely a very lucky and fortunate little boy; things could have been much worse for him, as you very well know."
At the news, we all cried with relief, and we hugged one another. We then gathered our bearings, and we then made our way to the Intensive Care ward, to visit our brother once we got the okay that he was now situated inside his room.
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