Response to an emergency and UK basketball…

So yesterday I’m driving from work to the grocery (and after to pick up my hubby from his office) when I’m approaching this intersection and I see, over in the grass in front of an apartment building, an old guy down on the ground moving all jerky with an old woman down on her knees beside him.

There is nobody helping these people as I drive through the intersection.

I pull over into a yellow zone (On Campus!) turn on my flashers, grab my cell phone and car keys.  I’m doing my fat lady jog back towards the couple and I see a bald guy in black, on what I thought was a phone, and another guy coming up the side walk — who sees the situation and just keeps walking.  WTF?

And I’m thinking, “Dude, that could be your Dad on some other corner in this world and needing help.  How would you feel if people just kept on walking past your Dad?”

And as I’m making my way across the street I’m thinking, “Please just let it be a seizure, please.  Please.  PLEASE!" 

Because I know my untrained CPR technique could do more harm than good.

And I’ve reached them.  The bald guy is just standing there while I’m bent over the guy’s head and asking him if he’s having an epileptic seizure.  He and the lady nod “yes,” so I ask him if he needs something to bite on.  More nods.  So I ask him if the brim of his baseball cap would work.  More nods and I take it off his head and guide it into his mouth. 

I’m combing my fingers through the thin gray hair on his sweaty head and telling him he’s doing fine and I’ll stay with him till help arrives.

The old lady is quiet, but her tears are dripping all over the old guy’s coat while she keeps each of his hands in her firm grip.

“Are you his wife?” She nods yes.

So I’m petting her on the back and stroking her shoulder with my other hand.

I hear the bald guy above us on a radio phone asking someone who answered “dispatch” if they would call 911.  I grab my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and hand it up to him, but he says he’s already called 911, they are just taking too long so he’s calling one of his workmates or something to call again.  I jam the phone back into my pocket.

I ask the guy if he is cold, because it is cold and snowing on all of us, but he mumbles “no.”

His head is feeling more and more sweaty, but his face is nice and flushed, so I’m thinking we don’t need to raise his feet.

I can hear sirens of approaching help and remove my hands from her shoulder and his head to cover his ears; because I’m thinking that racket might set him into a more violent seizure.

Help is here.  And the EMT’s are asking who belongs with this guy, but they totally miss the old lady whispering that she is.  She’s so scared; she can’t do more than whisper in reply.

And this one EMT asks why the hat is in his mouth and I say I gave it to him.  The EMT takes it from his mouth and tells me never to put anything in the mouth.

I experience a twinge of annoyance.  It’s not like there was any chance of the guy swallowing his ball cap.  Duh…

The sirens stop and I remove my hands from the old guy’s ears.

The EMT asks the old guy if he fell or laid down and he mumbles he doesn’t remember, but thinks he laid down.

“You fell,” whispered the old lady.

“His wife says he fell,” I tell the EMT.  “This is his wife, she belongs with him.”

So he begins asking her questions. 

I talking to the old guy now, telling him he’s in good hands and I’m going to be on my way.  He nods.

Someone says, “There’s a bill lying next to his head.”  And someone else asks, “Is this your money, sir?”

He shakes his head “no,” while I’m shoving my hand into my jacket pocket, again, to feel for my money I had in there with my cell phone and some lip balm, too.

“It’s mine,” I say, take it, and stand up.  I knew it was mine even before I checked because of the way I had folded it down into a little square.

[One of the EMT’s gave me that look.  You know.  The one where they think you are lying.  Yeah, I’ll be keeping my pocket money in my backpack from now on.  Crap.]

The old lady stands up and thanks me.  I give her a hug and whisper in her ear.  “You’re welcome; but you know you would have done the same.”

And I’m walking across the intersection to my car.  Once inside I realize my heart is racing. 

And I’m on my way to Kroger’s again, but now I’m gonna be shopping with old guy sweat on my hand…

This morning, while I’m dressing for work, I ask my husband what he thought of the ball game yesterday.  Was he surprised at UK’s win?  And he tells me it’s was a good game.

“Who do they play next?”  I ask him.

“LSU.  They’re a top seeded team,” he says.

“What does seed mean?”

“LSU is the top team in the SEC.”

“So like they’re expected to win the SEC tournament?”

“Yeah.”

“Wouldn’t it be something if UK went on to win the tournament!”

“Ha!  That would be a surprise.”

“Yeah, they could win the SEC and shock all the fans and the fans would all be ‘why didn’t you guys play that way all season?’ And the team would be saying it was all part of their strategy to win the SEC.”

And my husband is laughing, but not in a good way, you know…  More like the laughter of you’re so full of crap.