First Aid

To help relieve my worries about the lump in my liver, I went for a relaxing cycle ride along the tow-path yesterday afternoon. The good weather had brought out many more people than usual on their bikes. Returning from Newry, I was surprised to meet a boy running towards me shouting for help. I stopped.  

‘He just collapsed and fell,’ he screamed. ‘It could be a heart attack.’

‘Where is he?’ I said.

He pointed up the road. ‘I’m ringing an ambulance,’ he gasped, ’please help.’

I nodded and cycled the short way to a younger boy who was pacing around a man lying in the road. ‘Daddy, daddy,’ he shouted.

The man was flat on his back, a patch of dark blood on the tarmac behind his head. Three bikes were scattered across the road.

‘I think he’s gone,’ said the younger boy.

I gulped and stared at the man beneath me. I was afraid, what could I do?

I glanced up; the young boy looked at me pleadingly.

I slowly bent down to feel his neck for a pulse. Suddenly, the man coughed but didn’t open his eyes, his face was purple

‘Daddy, oh daddy,’ howled the young boy.

Desperately trying to remember the first-aid course I’d taken forty years ago, I turned him into the recovery position and began to press his lungs with my palms to help him breathe. He coughed a couple more times but then stopped. I kept going with my rhythmic pressing.

‘Where are we?’ shouted the older boy, phone to his ear.

‘A mile south of Poyntzpass’ I said, having been up and down the route countless times.

He relayed this to the 999 operator, who then began to ask questions about the man. The older boy spoke them to me. I answered and he relayed my responses to the operator.

‘She says we need to put him on his back’ said the older boy. We rolled the man over and the younger boy took off his T shirt to support the man’s head. The older boy, phone wedged to his ear, put his hands together and with the heel of his palms began CPR – press one, two, three, four, pause.

After a short while I took over. Then a couple arrived on their bikes and began to help. They were Polish and trained in first-aid. Taking it in turns we kept the CPR going until the siren of the ambulance sounded down the road.

The two paramedics jumped out, each with a kit bag. One worked at his side and injected him with something; the other began to work on his airway, pressing a large balloon to work his lungs. The Polish man continued with CPR.

I stood up and looked at my watch. Twenty minutes must have passed. Standing a discreet distance away up the road was a group of cyclists and walkers.

As they worked, the paramedics had lots of questions about the man. The youngest son answered. It seems his father had been having pains in his chest for several weeks. They were cycling and he had complained of feeling faint, then he collapsed.

Attaching a lead to his chest and side the paramedics told us to stand away from him. One convulsive shock and a pulse started. I could see the jagged line on the monitor. They gave him another injection and told the Polish guy to continue with CPR.

The man had been dead for twenty five minutes, but now he was resuscitated. Soon he was in the ambulance and away.

I turned to the Polish man. We shook hands. ‘I hope he survives,’ he said. ‘I hope so too.’

‘I’m going to take another course in first-aid,’ I said, mindful of the terrible feeling of exposure I had being first upon the accident. ‘It’s something everyone needs to know’.

The Polish man nodded. We both picked up our bikes and set off. We were heading in different directions.

I had about nine miles to ride to the car. I cycled slowly. For me this was another powerful lesson about how fragile life is; the latest in a line that stretched back decades. Yet I would still habitually rush around with hardly a thought for how easily my life and the lives of those around me could be snuffed out.

Driving home, cars sped past me, overtaking on the other side of the road. ‘Hold on there,’ I shouted, ‘slow down’. Here I was with a potential tumour growing inside me, and I didn’t want to die in a car accident.