By Debra Dibartolo Jul 8th 2010 2:30PM
Three summers ago, I got a phone call from my mother one Wednesday evening, telling me to come straight to the hospital emergency department because, “Your brother’s heart stopped working.” My mother is usually not very excitable, so I was concerned but skeptical. My brother was an extremely healthy, 37-year-old father of two teenage boys. I knew my mother had to be making a mistake, because Brian was coaching football at the school that afternoon and therefore could not be in the hospital. I yelled upstairs to my husband to come with me to the emergency department; that my mother just called and is clearly very confused about something. “She thinks that Brian’s heart stopped,” I told him.
I understand that denial is very powerful. It’s a very strong psychologically-protective coping skill, but I truly was not in denial at that point. I really just thought my mother was confused.
Well, I was wrong. My 37-year-old brother — never sick a day in his life — suffered a sudden cardiac arrest on the high school football field while jogging with the members of his team.
Brian was one of the 600 people who die each day from sudden cardiac arrest. My family’s story is not a story of grief and loss, however. Our school has an automated external defibrillator, and all of the coaches and assistant coaches are educated on how to use it. Some of the teenage boys that he was jogging with ran to the school to get the AED, while another one of the coaches started cardiopulmonary resuscitation and called 911. Prior to the ambulance arriving, they “shocked” him twice and returned his heart to normal functioning.
Brian was hospitalized for five days while the nurses, doctors and technicians tried to figure out what happened and provide him with treatment, so it would not happen again. He was discharged and sent home with no injury to his heart, and a permanently implanted defibrillator in his chest for protection, should this ever happen again.
My brother’s story is not just an occurrence of “good luck.” It is a testament to organizations like the American Heart Association and their Public Access Defibrillation Program. As well as the skill, sound minds and quick responses of the young men on his football team, the other coaches, the volunteer emergency ambulance service in our community and the skill and training of the doctors, nurses and technicians who provided Brian’s care and treatment in the hospital.
Defibrillation is the only treatment for ventricular fibrillation, the condition that Brian suffered from that day. His heart, for reasons we still don’t know, began to beat chaotically and ceased pumping blood, which led to him collapsing and having no signs of life. Per the AHA, for every minute that passes, the chances that someone will survive ventricular fibrillation decreases 7 to 10 percent. So after as little as ten minutes, the chances of survival are very, very slim.
It was not a highly-trained emergency medicine doctor, cardiac nurse or paramedic with years of education and experience that saved Brian’s life that afternoon. The real hero of this story was a coach — one of his friends — who attended a one-day class given by the American Red Cross on how to administer CPR and use an AED.
Attending an AHA class is fun! Attending a class with your friends or family is even more fun. The instructors are not intimidating and they have programs that can be tailored to your specific needs and comfort level. Most of the classes don’t even have a test! What they do have is caring community members teaching other caring community members the skills they need to save a life.
SOURCE: AOL Health
