Every day after school we make desperate attempts to get more than a grunt when we ask, “How was school today?”
“Fine.”
“What did you do?”
“Played soccer at recess.”
“What about learning—what did you work on?”
“Just stuff.” Followed by, “I’m hungry.”
For our 7th grader you can add, “Do you have homework?”
“Yea, quite a bit.”
But yesterday he announced his homework included a new twist.
“I have to teach you CPR,” he said.
“What?” I thought. This should be a challenge.
Then to my amazement he explained that thanks to a private donation, every 7th grader in our district received their own mini “Annie” CPR kit that includes the demonstration model on which to practice the proper CPR technique.
“Isn’t that amazing,” he said proudly after setting it all up.
And it was. But what was even more amazing was seeing him flawlessly demonstrate each step of how to save someone’s life right there on our living room floor.
“Tilt the chin up like this.”
And then, “No, Mom, you have to keep your elbows straight like this.”
“You know most of the time, Mom, people die because people around them know how to do CPR but are afraid to do it,” he then explained.
“Even doing it wrong is better than not trying,” he said.
“Well, what do you think,” I asked. “After this would you be willing to help someone?”
“I think so,” he said.
None of us know how we will react in a real emergency, but if history plays any part I think my son is right.
He had the chance years earlier to prove himself capable far beyond his years in a crisis.
It happened, like all accidents very quickly.
One of our family dogs was a huge muscular 90-pound puppy whose desire for affection was only out weighed by his drive to play. He “invited” our other dog to play by tugging on his collar.
But on this day, his tug came while the other dog was sleeping. Apparently when he jumped up in surprise the puppy was flipped over, leaving his bottom jaw and pointed canine teeth twisted into the other dog’s collar so that the harder the puppy pulled to get loose the tighter the collar became on the other dog’s neck.
I sprinted from the kitchen to help. I tried to unlatch the collar, but its design had a metal loop that held the clasp in place.
Connected only inches apart each dog was pulling in wild panic to get loose, causing the collar to dig so tightly into the other dog’s neck it was impossible to squeeze a finger under the collar. I wrapped my arms around each dog’s neck in a desperate attempt to pull them closer as they fought to pull apart.
All this as my boys looked on. Jake was only 5 at the time and was screaming, “Save Bucky, Mama!”
“Take Jake to the other room,” I shouted to John. “Don’t let him watch.”
I remember thinking I might be able to cut the collars and yelled to John who was only 7 to run for the scissors.
But it was obvious the collar was much too thick and too tight on the dog’s neck.
By now Bucky was becoming limp in my arms. I thought he was going to die right in front of my son.
I could feel a sense of hopelessness set in. Then in desperation I decided to rely on my little guy to help.
“John, lay down on the floor and look at the collar,” I said. “Can you see where it’s twisted?”
“I think so,” he said.
“We are going to have to pick up the dog and roll him over to get Bucky free,” I explained. “Which way should we roll him?”
Looking back I can’t believe it didn’t end in disaster. But instead John said pointing, “That way, Mom, we have to flip him that way.”
And so the two of us pushed and pulled with everything we had and rolled him flailing feet in the air over his back to sweet freedom.
And so the two of us pushed and pulled with everything we had and rolled him flailing feet in the air over his back to sweet freedom.
It had worked.
Without John, I don’t believe I would have been able to do it.
“You saved Bucky’s life,” I said.
“I did?”
“How did you know which way the collar was twisted?” I asked.
“I just guessed,” he said.
I laughed and hugged him, as I was doing again today, only 5 years later, gazing at a much larger version of boy, wearing the same grin.
And that’s when I knew for certain; this would not be one of the people standing on the sidelines unwilling to help.
