Chapter Eight #2
Two men built like whiskey barrels and a woman who fried her hair with a home perm, all wearing Paddy O’Donald T-shirts under black leather jackets, looked like they were heading to work but stayed to help.
Rylee turned to the bouncer-looking dudes, “Can you post at the stairs and let people know they can’t access this platform?”
“We’ll keep them out.” Both of them looked like they’d enjoy the job. And Rylee was grateful they happened to be around. Serendipity.
“I’m going to go get barriers to put up and make an announcement.” The Metro officer seemed happy to go take care of those tasks. No one was asking her to mouth-to-mouth a stranger.
Rylee thought that leaving the scene was probably contrary to the woman’s protocol, but if she was protecting this space and mobilizing help, that was a good thing.
There were now five on the platform. Benny, Neesa, Rylee, Bean Counter, and Briefcase.
The open space seemed to lower Benny’s anxiety and help him cope.
Rylee imagined that there was no feeling quite so claustrophobic as not being able to get enough air and then having all those bodies looming overhead.
“Sir, I’m putting you on speaker.” Neesa lay Benny’s phone on the ground as she pushed Benny’s sleeves up, then searched his neckline. “Do you know if Benny has a medical condition? Is he taking any medications that you know of? I’m checking for medical alert jewelry.”
“No,” A deep voice rumbled with concern.
“Benny was complaining of indigestion earlier. He said he’s felt like that for the last few days.
We noticed this morning that he was a little gray and sweaty.
And our colleague asked Benny if he needed to see a doctor.
He said he’d go tomorrow if things hadn’t improved.
I’m in a ride share. I’ll have them turn around. ”
“Sir, the paramedics are en route,” Neesa told him. “Please stay on the phone for questions.”
“Sir, did you say that Benny was sweating earlier?” Rylee asked.
“Yes. Not a lot. On his forehead and upper lip.”
“Had he just exercised, like climbed the stairs?” Rylee asked as she felt Benny’s forehead for a fever. “Or had he just eaten something spicy?”
“No. I don’t know. I doubt either one. Benny takes the elevator, and he said he’d had heartburn for a few days, so he was having antacids for lunch.”
Benny was cold and clammy. Rylee locked eyes with Neesa. Obviously, this situation was dire. But anytime someone was sweating without a reasonable explanation, it was time to seek medical help. Benny should have been in the hospital hours ago.
Rylee suddenly found herself holding Benny’s weight as he lost consciousness, going slack in her arms.
Shifting out from under his back, Rylee lay Benny flat on her coat.
As she scrambled to get around to Benny’s side, Neesa was pointing at the briefcase guy, “Find the AED machine now. It’s hanging on a wall, probably somewhere near the tickets.
Use your voice, call out to get everyone looking. Run there. Run back. Safely run back.”
Rylee didn’t see what happened next. Adrenaline shrank her world to only the information that would help her save this man.
On the battlefield, with her injured Marines, it cancelled out the sights and sounds around her, to her benefit and detriment.
It was indeed a double-edged sword. She didn’t hear the bombs whistle, or the ratatat of machine gun fire.
She had to act as if her own life wasn’t in imminent danger as she focused on the work in front of her.
And as it was then, so it was now, tunnel vision.
Tapping hard on the man’s shoulder, Rylee shouted, “Sir, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
She spat on her fingers and used that to wet her cheek as she dipped Benny’s chin back and hovered over Benny’s nose and mouth. There she held, counting ten. If there was even a stray wisp of breath, the moisture from her saliva would make the air movement more pronounced.
Nothing.
Rylee looked at Bean Counter. “Repeat this: He’s not breathing—cardiac arrest.”
Bean Counter’s face burned red as she screwed her features up tightly, looking determined not to cry over the human tragedy unfolding in front of her so she could keep doing her part.
Rylee loosened the man’s tie and reached into the opening between the buttons on his blue and white pin-striped shirt. Grasping either side, she pulled her elbow up and out in one swift move, ripping the shirt open.
Tiny buttons pinged across the platform.
Sweat formed in Rylee’s pits, and her shoes had somehow come off her feet. She flipped to a four-by-four combat breath.
Rylee had performed life-or-death interventions in the battlefield with bullets whizzing over her head, a bullet-resistant vest strapped around her torso, and a metal helmet cooking her brain under the desert sun.
She could certainly deal with this. “Neesa, start CPR with me. I’ll take compressions first. There’s a vapor barrier on the keychain in my coat pocket. ”
Rylee knelt beside the man, using her fingers to trace down his sternum to find the end of the ribs so she could stay clear of the tiny triangular bone that could wreak havoc if it was dislodged.
One hand stacked on top of the other, lacing her fingers, locking her elbows, and placing the heels of her hand about halfway down his breastbone and in between his nipples, she thrust downward.
Rylee was back on the battlefield, where she set all emotion aside to focus; she’d deal with the human side of all this later, in the quiet and dark of night.
Now, she used her body weight to increase the pressure, her hands buried in a thick carpet of chest hair.
When the AED got there, they’d have to shave patches on Benny’s chest to get the pads to stick.
“He’s lying on your coat.” Neesa was reaching under Benny as she fished around and drew out Rylee’s keys.
“Neesa, put music on.”
Lunging forward, Neesa grabbed Rylee’s phone, held it in front of Rylee’s face to open the security, and pulled up the music playlist they’d created at work for CPR training.
Each song ranged from 100 to 120 beats per second. The variety of music helped the teams from zoning out on the counts.
“Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two,” Rylee huffed as she felt her hands descend violently into Benny’s rib cage. Two inches, two inches, or you’re just wasting your effort. Dig deep. Push hard.
Neesa was scrambling around, pulling the barrier from its little blue keychain packet, unfolding it with uncooperative fingers, then laying it on Benny’s face.
Just as Rylee huffed, “Thirty,” and sat back on her heels to catch her breath, Neesa bent to fill Benny’s lungs.
“Another breath, Neesa,” Rylee said, scanning for anyone else who might have arrived who could take turns with the compressions.
She was a machine that was running out of gas.
As she emerged from the adrenaline-induced focus, she was surprised that no other helpers had arrived on the scene. There was Neesa and the Bean Counter.
The Bean Counter was gripping her phone in both hands, looking traumatized but steadfast.
As Neesa lifted, Rylee went back to her counting.
Five rounds of thirty thrusts—her turn complete, Rylee changed positions with Neesa.
When Rylee took up the kneeling position alongside Benny’s head, she was gasping for air.
Poor Neesa was a lighter, shorter woman than Rylee, and so it took a great deal more effort. Rylee watched to make sure Neesa was getting the required depth.
When Neesa, sweat dripping from her forehead, gasped out, “Thirty,” it was Rylee’s turn to tip Benny’s head back, lift his chin, and form a seal over the plastic sheet that hopefully kept possibly dangerous germs and vomit out of her mouth.
Not her first time, probably not her last. This was all muscle memory and determination.
The friends had traded places five times—ten long minutes—when they heard a commotion on the stairs.
Briefcase came flying down the steps with an AED in hand.
“Rylee, can you keep compressing while I set up the AED?” Neesa asked.
“Wilco,” Will comply. Short, sweet, and zero energy to get it out.
Neesa opened the AED lid, pressed the machine on, and pulled out the pads.
“Razor,” Rylee said as she counted aloud. Beside her was Benny’s phone, and she knew the friend was listening to all of this because she could hear the guy calling, “Come on, Benny, you’ve got this. You’ve got it. Hang in there.”
Rylee thought that there was probably some part of Benny that was aware and could receive those messages of encouragement from a friend rather than two strangers on the Metro platform.
Neesa worked fluidly, shaving and placing the pads on the upper right chest, then the left at armpit level. With hands trembling from adrenaline, Neesa connected the pads to the AED.
As soon as the machine said, “Stop compressions. Analyzing,” both women pulled their bodies away from Benny.
A quick scan of the area said they had Bean Counter and Briefcase helping.
Rylee wondered why the D.C. police hadn’t swarmed down the stairs.
Sure, they could be running full-out to get there, or there might have been a communications breakdown.
But at least the Metro train whizzed on by without stopping or letting anyone off.
Snatching up Benny’s phone during the momentary respite, Rylee moved it next to the man’s ear, a safe distance from any interference with the AED, and called down. “Benny’s friend, you’re on speaker phone. Keep it up. Keep encouraging him.”
“Yes. Yes. Benny, man. I texted Martha. Think of your wife and kids. They need you. You can do this for them, right?”
A robotic female voice came through the AED speakers, “Shock advised.”
“Clear,” Neesa and Rylee said together, holding their hands in the air to visually confirm that no one was touching Benny.
Then, Rylee reached out and pressed the shock button.
She’d seen the process on videos in training, and she knew what to expect, but she’d never been around when an AED was used on a person in front of her.
It was violent, and Rylee’s own heart slammed into her rib cage.
“Resume compressions,” the AED advised. And Rylee went right back to work, turning her head to see the briefcase guy. “Can you do this?”
“Touch him?” Briefcase took a step backward.
“Compressions,” Neesa said, as Rylee counted toward thirty. “We’re tired.”
“Yeah. No. No, I can’t,” he stammered. “I can run errands for you, though. Should I go find other people who can do this?”
“Yes,” Neesa said, moving back to Benny’s head, ready to administer artificial breath. “Get a bunch, not just one.”
As Rylee said, “Thirty,” Neesa pinched Benny’s nose as she leaned low.
The two-minute mark was timed by the machine: “Analysis complete.” “Shock advised.”
Benny’s body arched backward as he was jolted into the air.
Where was help?
Neesa took over the compressions as Rylee caught her breath.
“Benny? Benny? Hey man, I’m here with you, brother. You’re going to get through this. Hang in there, man.” The voice on the phone was solid and focused. Rylee used the man’s cheerleading to bolster her own morale.
Bean Counter leaned in, “The 911 operator said the paramedics are on location.”
Two minutes flew by, and the AED was in charge. “Stop compressions. Analyzing.”
Another shock.
The man’s friend was clearly traumatized by the sounds. There was a swallowed sob in his voice as he switched from cheerleading to “remember when” stories, making plans to go fishing, and talking about the games of poker yet to be played.
“Resume compressions,” the AED advised.
Rylee thought about the man beneath her palms, the mentioned wife and children. She dug deep into her personal resolve, using all of her weight and will to make her thrusts go deep enough.
Clattering on the stairs came a moment later.
The chaos of uniforms and equipment was welcomed.
Rylee picked up the phones, then scooted on her butt over the filth of the platform to the wall and out of the way. It stank of stale urine, but her limbs were jelly, and she couldn’t stand. Once home, she’d wash under scalding water until the tank ran cold.
Blouse damp and clingy from exertion sweat, Neesa came to collapse against her, hugging tightly as the friends caught their breath.
Hearing the paramedics’ radio communications, Rylee lifted Benny’s phone to her mouth.
“Sir, you can probably hear the paramedics are here and took over Benny’s care,” she panted.
“They’re taking Benny to the level one trauma hospital on Georgia Avenue. ”
“Georgia Avenue. My god. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I’m sending the phone on with Benny.”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll stay on the line, though, talking with him. Is that okay? Who am I talking to? Who is this?”
Rylee had already handed the phone to one of the paramedics. “This is Benny’s phone, and his friend is on the line. He can describe Benny earlier in the day, signs and symptoms, and family contact information.”
The paramedic accepted the phone, and Rylee went to stand out of the way so she could eventually retrieve her coat, which had, if nothing else, kept Benny off the freezing platform during his ordeal.
Neesa turned toward Rylee and weakly lifted her hand for a high five. “Damn, girl.”
Rylee laced her fingers into Neesa’s and closed her eyes.
Life was fragile.