VOLUME 27, ISSUE 1
Christoper R. Cook, DO
TSA Editor
SAVING PAPA JOHN
Physician Anesthesiologists save lives every day. In the course of training and private practice I have helped save many patients. I’ve also seen patients make miraculous recoveries escaping the clutches of near death. It’s an entirely different situation though when a family member is at risk and their life hangs in the balance.
That’s what happened on a beautiful Saturday in November. My father-in-law and I had an amazing day watching the University of Oklahoma take on Baylor at Owen Field. Despite a terrible loss, we enjoyed the competition, boisterous fans and game day cuisine completely unaware that something catastrophic and astounding was about to transpire.
As the terminal minutes of the contest ticked down it was easy to merge into the exodus of the crimson masses rapidly flowing from the coliseum toward their motorized chariots. Our typical parking spot at McKinley elementary was reached briskly and we jettisoned for East Norman. At 3 pm we arrived at the crossroads of Lindsay and Chautauqua Avenue but for my father-in-law it was a much more significant crossroads, one between this life and the next. As traffic crept, our small talk about the game abruptly became silent mid verse. A simple lull, a lost train of thought, but the quantum silence dragged on and when my gaze shifted in his direction there was a surreal moment of ominous perplexity.
My field of view zoomed in like a telescopic tunnel. To a casual observer, he appeared to be in a very sudden deep sleep and snoring. But I’ve seen that face before in the countenance of critically ill patients who were gasping their final agonal breaths. I thought about his recent medical history and cardiac risk factors and realized that he’d gone into a fatal dysrhythmia and sudden cardiac arrest.
Everything went silent even though I was screaming his name at the top of my lungs as my fists struck his chest with four precordial thumps each progressively harder to no avail. Only divine providence would have placed us near an intersection with a police officer, a bystander cardiologist, a nurse and multiple pedestrians knowledgeable in CPR. I quickly moved to the driver side of the pickup and called for help. Ripping the door open, John’s body was in full view; unresponsive, cyanotic, and slumped in his seat.
I’m not sure who helped me, but another gentleman and I hoisted my burly father–in-law cautiously out of his Chevy. Suddenly the vehicle lurched forward as his limp foot slipped from the brake pedal. Yet another bystander hurdled into heroic action stopping the truck before it rolled over John’s leg or entered the intersection. My internal clock was ticking as the precious seconds slipped away. The human brain, heart and kidneys, are acutely sensitive to low blood flow and low oxygen levels, and can begin dying in minutes. After feeling
