Loretta of the Lamp

Compressions to breaths

I rubbed my eyes. I could hear crying and I instantly wondered what Claudia had done.

Did she trip on the stairs? Did she poke her eye while brushing her teeth? Was she still angry that she couldn't tie her laces, no matter how many times I showed her? It annoyed me that my mother had taught her to do it the way for stupid people, two loops and a knot rather than loop-over-under-through.

To be honest, there were so many things Claudia could have been crying about at this time of morning, but I cut myself short from running through my list, and I jumped up out of bed.

Because it wasn't Claudia crying, it was my mother.

And it wasn't a frustrated can't-tie-my-laces cry, it was a gut-wrenching, heart-broken sob.

I ran across the hall and opened the door to my parent's bedroom with no consideration for their privacy. My father would have left for work already anyway.

But he hadn't. He was still asleep in the bed. I hardly ever saw my dad sleeping because I was always in bed before him, and woke up after he left for work. But he was still asleep, peaceful and rested with a half smile across his face and his grey and black hair sprawled over the pillow in a spiky halo. My mum was on the ground beside him, still in her nightie, clutching his hand and pressing it to her face as she sobbed.

"He's not breathing," she told me, between hysterical gasps for air.

My mind went from a blue morning calm to a red angry rage in the split seconds after the words 'not breathing' fell from her mouth.

"Did you call an ambulance?" I could barely get the words out. My mind was caving in on itself.

She burst into another waterfall of tears and shook her head, wiping her face against his hand.

"You idiot!" I screamed at her, and lunged for his mobile phone, still sitting on the table beside the bed. He'd already missed five calls from his company. I swiped them aside and went straight to the emergency dial.

The words came out of my mouth in a voice that no longer seemed my own, and I answered the questions on the other end with a distant calm.

Stay on the phone.

Confirm the address.

The ambulance is already on its way.

Did anyone begin CPR?

Is there vomit?

Check for breathing.

Open his mouth, check for obstructions.

Call his name.

Tap his collar bone.

Don't worry, the ambulance will be there in only a few minutes.

I thought he might have still been breathing, so I didn't begin CPR, and honestly from the two days we had spent learning the procedure in Health Science classes, I didn't remember how.

My wait for the ambulance was spent standing at the end of the path to our front door watching the road and arguing in my mind about the ratio between breaths and compressions. And then when the ambulance did turn down the road, my mind just went blank.

It was all real.