The Case for CPR/AED Training

I can't decide if this story should start with me boarding the 2:30am flight from Tashkent to Istanbul (then onward to London and Orlando) when I got the call, or if the story should start with my dad working out at the gym in Colorado. Either way, the story ends the same.

The original plan was to meet Mom and Dad in Florida. While I would attend a nursing conference for work, they would hang out at the beach and visit friends. In the evenings we would enjoy dinner and each other's company. Considering the Schlink's not-so-great winter start with David's appendicitis, the unexpected and painful death of my brother-in-law, and various orthopedic injuries between Mark's parents and mine, we all agreed our short reunion would be a very welcome break. Even if it had to be a place like Florida.

Well, we planned, and God laughed.

Two days before the trip, while working out at the gym, my dad went into sudden cardiac arrest. Thanks to quick recognition and response by Conrad, a 71-year-old gym member, CPR, 911, and the AED were started, called, and executed. He was dead for about 8 minutes when the rescuers got his heart pumping again. Two ribs broke on the right, five on the left. The paramedics started two huge IV lines, intubated him, and loaded him into the ambulance for the 45 minute drive to the hospital. Mom, who was at lunch, got a notification that the gym would be closed for the rest of the day due to an emergency. Then she received a call from the emergency room but they wouldn't discuss on the phone what had happened. Unsurprisingly, worry and panic set in.

His heart was beating again, but how much brain damage did he suffer? We wouldn't know until he could be extubated and breathe on his own, if he could breathe on his own. Their other plans were to stabilize Tom's blood pressure, cool his body temperature, and rebalance his acids, bases and electrolytes. Only then could they evaluate heart by way of cardiac catheterization. All we could do was wait: mom frantic in the hospital waiting room, me trapped on airplanes with crappy (nonexistent) internet for the next 9 hours. Finally supplied with wifi upon arrival to London, I reconnected with my mom (no news) and I rearranged my tickets for a Denver arrival. I'd have to transfer from Gatwick to Heathrow, and connect in Chicago, but I'd arrive after nearly 48 hours of travel, front-door to ICU-door. I didn't know if I'd be coming back to say hello or goodbye to my dad.

Part of my own heart was/is broken, living so far away from family and when emergencies come up like this, the distance is especially painful. This part of the Foreign Service sucks. However, I had the help of an amazing General Services Officer and the embassy's travel team to assist me in changing tickets without having to be placed on hold, or standing in line for hours. They got me to where I needed to be in record time.

Tom made an impressive recovery. Once he could breathe on his own and his labs improved, he was scheduled for a cardiac catheterization where a specialist would insert a wire and inject dye through his right, radial artery to take pictures. Depending on the number and location of arteries needing repair, he'd get either a stent(s) or need open heart surgery. By the time we returned from lunch, he had already been evaluated and treated. Interestingly, my dad has an extra bifurcation to the left anterior descending artery (LAD) the one famously known as the Widow Maker. The bifurcation called the ramus artery and only 35% of people have it. I couldn't find much information about artery in my medical apps, textbooks, or even google.

Tom was discharged from the hospital after just 5 days, oddly anticlimactic but very much welcomed. Soreness and exhaustion have been the main themes at home, he's had no brain injury apart from the amnesia of the gym day and days in the ICU. Four weeks from now and he will get a stent placed in his LAD after his heart recovers from the trauma, and also after my mom gets a new knee. (My parents have spent the last couple of years trading off being surgical patients, it's almost a running joke).

My brother, mom, and I had the pleasure to thank the people involved in saving our dad. We celebrated with cookies and fruit, hugs given, and stories were shared. So many happy tears were shed. Most importantly, the gym staff, police and paramedics reaffirmed the value that CPR and AED training brings to the table. We literally have NO idea when it will be our turn to save a life, or when ours needs to be saved. To say I am grateful would be an understatement.

My dad with his ICU nurse and 
his pressors, heparin, antibiotic drips, freshly extubated.

Crappy lab values in the ICU. Dx: NSTEMI in ramus artery,
resulting in ventricular fibrillation.

My dad with his new stent and heart pillow I coincidentally brought for his birthday. 
I planned to give it while in Florida.

Man Of The Year.
Mom with Conrad, my new favorite hero: retired high school
biology teacher, football and ski coach, and CPR doer.
  

Lt. Ron who helped Conrad shock my dad back to life.

Gym staff who fielded phone calls,
directed the paramedics, and kept everyone calm.

Celebrating life. Literally.

Chores on Douglas Mountain

Deets and Margo take their mountain chores seriously. They patrol the land looking for noxious weeds such as the Common Mullein, aka Miner's Toilet Paper. It's a very satisfying weed to pull out of the ground with it's shallow roots and soft, non-spiky texture.  They love watering the plants with Grandpa's super-soaker and hoisting up the newly filled bird seed feeders high into the trees. Almost immediately they get to watch giant blue jays gorge themselves. Margo and Deets helped with cleaning out my parents camper in exchange for taking naps/sleeping in it- they were both mortified to hear that we do not plan to use a camper when we move to Africa next month (as much as I LOVE sleeping on the ground...)

Probably the most entertaining chore of all is refilling the hummingbird feeders. My parents have several around the house and they go through about 3 gallons of boiled sugar water each week. With no wonder- at any time there are about 4 or 5 hummingbirds at each feeder, wings flapping up to 70x/sec and heart beats raging high as 1,260 beats/minute. Some are nice, others are bullies, dive bombing the others to gain position. Sometimes they dive bomb people too, so it's been an exercise in calmness and tranquility for me. I strongly dislike birds, but I have appreciated the challenge of capturing their movement mid-flight. 

Filling up the bird bath

Golden Gate Canyon State Park, Colorado

Years ago when I lived in Denver and obsessed with racking up miles on my bike, I would ride past Golden Gate Canyon State Park, 14 miles from the nearest city with only a cursory glance. Now back in Colorado without a bike but with bonus children, I decided to visit the park that I so often ignored. The park had something like 36 miles and 12 trails to pick from and I let the kids choose. They picked a 4 mile hike (out and back) along the Coyote Trail. We party crashed a group of birders, viewed a historic moonshine house, and the remnants of a liquor trolley that was quickly abandoned to nature after the repeal of prohibition. We hiked past cairn instagrammers and owners with cute-ugly dogs off leash. The children chased me down half the mountain with their proton-packs, obliterating the shadows and carrying on hefty conversations regarding their favorite meats to consume. Besides Margo accusing me of getting us lost when we completed our hike in the parking lot 200 feet further south than our start, attitudes were high all day. We even managed to stop off at the visitor center afterwards to feed the trout and terrorize the park employees. 

Abandoned space ship - per Deets

Blood red currants 

Seeing the forest through the trees.

Grays and Torreys 14,000 foot peaks in the background.

At the summit.

Margo's battle cry. 

Playing Ghostbusters.

Finding the Pirate's Booty

For months my dad planned to do a treasure hunt with Deets and Margo once they arrived. An ever meticulous man, he prepared the materials. The route. The execution. The booty. A few nights prior we sat down to sketch out the maps, and finalize them on properly burned parchment paper rolled into a scroll. He made a series of 4 maps that were hidden in the brush, paired with dinosaurs, clues to the next set. We set out on foot on a Sunday morning just as the sun rose over the ridge, undaunted by the scattered bleach white bones of animals past. We climbed past resting unicorns, defied the dragons and territorial snakes, and expertly maneuvered the Knee-Gash Narrows and ending up in a cave hidden from view by a tangle of agonizingly pokey dead tree branches. Deets and Margo discovered their booty here, a box full of fresh memories and those minted from my dad's childhood: Silly Putty, face paint, chocolate coins, Slinkies and Topps Ugly Stickers. Obviously the kids loved it and have since been scheming to go on another hunt. My favorite part was watching Deets go from being intimidated in reading maps, to independently navigating them- an obvious and meaningful life lesson. 

Discussion of navigating through Knee-Gash Narrows and past the rattle snake.

The walking stick- another wildly successful purchase.

Onto the next generation-
I saw this unicorn myself back in 1987.

The fiery dragon.

Not so fiery dragon.
Or maybe it's a cartoon dinosaur?

Leading with courage.

The big moment.

Carefully exiting the cave.

Reaping the rewards.