So it's the Wednesday before July 4th, we are all at the 5:30 a.m. spin class, and Jamie leaves right before the last song. NBD, I think, he must need to go to work early. We finish up and exit the room. And Jamie is lying on the floor by the bench where we all put on our cleats. There's a Gold's trainer bent over him and about 5 others, wringing their hands. Yes, it's time to utter the magic words: "Please let me through, I'm a nurse." So I am thinking, he fainted again. I follow my little CPR protocol, I shake his shoulder and say his name loudly. No response. So I bend down and look, listen, feel for breathing. Holy f'ing god, he is not breathing. This is completely not what I expected. So I position his head and start doing rescue breaths and this is hard as hell, folks. Just getting his head positioned is hard. He's in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor, and I bark out "Help me straighten him out". This is funny -- I have gum in my mouth and I just throw it across the room as I bend down for the first breath. I got a breath in him after he's straightened, and he makes a few agonal gasps (not a good sign) and now I'm desperately feeling for a pulse on his neck. Yes: Holy f'ing god, he has no pulse.
And folks, here is where I screwed up: I should have applied the AED at that point. But I didn't, I was just about to get my hands in position for the compressions, and EMS walks up. Honestly, I think I've never been so happy to see anyone in my life. There's about 5 or 6 guys (and man, some of them need to pose for a calendar of manly firemen/EMS guys with their shirts off, let me tell you....um OK....back to the topic). They defibrillate him twice, which is harrowing. I'm watching this, standing with his wife. After he fails to respond to the first shock, my eyes are wide and I'm genuinely thinking what if he dies here, on the gym floor. But he does not. They get a line in him (probably gave him epi), apply O2, and then they are pacing his heart. This is painful and he's moaning and writhing, and one of the EMS guys explains that's actually a good sign. They take him away. I look at the clock: only 20 minutes have elapsed. Felt like hours.
He spent a few days in ICU, got a pacemaker implanted and he's fine. He had an existing arrhythmia and went into ventricular fibrillation I'm guessing, and then cardiac arrest. It couldn't have been a better outcome. I got to shake his hand and see him again at the gym. He's walking on the treadmill for now, but he'll be back on that bike in front of me.
I learned a couple of things, first is beware of your assumptions. My thinking that he'd fainted again was not helpful. And yell for the AED right away, do not wait, and start the damn compressions sooner. The other thing I learned is that performing CPR on the gym floor is a hell of a lot harder than in a hospital bed. And it is much, much more emotional when it's someone you know. I was tearful and trembly the rest of that morning. I've never reacted that way to a work situation, and I've seen much more terrible things at work.
What else can I say to follow up that drama? We went to Mississippi/Alabama and visited Ken's family and it was a great trip. We even got to see his daughter Jennifer and her four kids. Here's a pic of Dani clowning with her newest little cousin, Charlie (an extremely cute little guy).
Oh wait, I do have a big drama in my life to report. Ha. I quit my brand-new job 2 days ago. Yes, the one I just accepted as an NP in private practice with a local psychiatrist. Doesn't sound like me, does it? Well, back in March when I first started job hunting, I interviewed with a small, private specialized treatment center and I absolutely loved it. I liked the job description, I liked the people, I liked the fact it's 15 minutes away. And they liked me too, but timing was a problem. They needed to fill the position and couldn't wait for me to get credentialed. So, sadly, we parted ways. Last week, I get a call from the director of the treatment center. He simply asks if I would meet him for coffee. I don't ask why, I think for just a second and say yes. And as we sit down, he says, "Let me get down to it. Is there any way we can convince you to come work for us now?" Wow. That wasn't what I expected; I was thinking he wanted to see if I could work PRN for them, maybe fill in when their NP is on vaca or out at training. So he explains how we've arrived at this interesting juncture. I ask some questions, and we agree that I'll take a week to decide.
It was not an easy decision, mostly because I feel so badly about telling my brand-new job that I'm leaving now, like right away. But ultimately I decided that is indeed what I want. For many reasons, this particular job at the treatment center is just cosmically right for me. It's a specialty area that I've always been interested in and someone close to me killed herself while suffering from this disorder when I was in my 20's. I feel incredibly lucky, actually, to get this second chance. Once in a while in life, you get a second chance. It's wonderful that it's for something so important. And here's the cool thing: I have absolutely no doubt that I will love my job. I am so looking forward to learning and specializing and becoming capable. Getting to know fantastic, challenging patients. And maybe, just maybe, saving someone's life.
