I’ve always maintained my CPR certification. Various jobs and the fact that I’ve always worked with children have kept me certified for decades. I never imagined that I would rely on the training of others to save my life, but that’s precisely what happened.
In June, I went to my regular gym class at 6 a.m., just as I had for about seven years. Only I didn’t walk out on my two feet. The last thing I remember was finishing the cool-down portion of the class, putting my mat away as I chatted with another woman, and tunnel vision set in.
I woke up approximately 26 hours later after being medically sedated—the same tunnel vision in place. I remember looking at my arms and seeing I was in a hospital bed. Here we go again! I wasn’t new to medical problems, but I was certainly confused as to why I was in a hospital bed.
I saw the band on my arm and mustered up the strength to look at the info. It said Jane Doe. Jane Doe? Immediate panic took over me, and I began screaming (or at least I thought I was screaming), “I’m not Jane Doe. My name is Lori; I’m Lori!”
Unaware I was intubated, my screams came out as muffled chaos. Out like a light, I’d go. My husband said I repeated this exact pattern of behavior about a dozen times over several hours until I further awakened and the sedation was lifted. It remained the most challenging part of my trauma for me to process. Thinking about it set off an immediate physiological response in my body, which took months to quell.
Once the sedation was lifted enough, my husband’s calming, familiar face came into my tunnel vision. Safety. My rock was with me, and he brought the calm. He understood my fright and showed me I had two hospital bands on. One was the Jane Doe because I had arrived so quickly at the hospital, and the second had my personal information.
I learned I had gone into v-fib cardiac arrest before I ever walked out of the gym that day. By the time all tests were completed at the hospital, there was no apparent reason for the cardiac arrest. I had a partial blockage, but it was not significant enough to cause an arrest. I was told it was an electrical problem, not a plumbing problem.
So here I was at 51 years old, a two-time breast cancer survivor, and now a cardiac arrest survivor with a built-in defibrillator/pacemaker. I felt physically fine, but the undercurrent of emotionality lurked in the shadows. I’ve been to dark places before, and I know they don’t serve me well. So I always look for the light.
So many things went right on the day of the incident.
The woman I was chatting with as I walked out happened to be a nurse. She saw in my eyes that something had gone wrong and was able to catch my fall as I collapsed. I’m a big girl, and the fall alone could have killed me.
We had two trainers in the gym that day – one called 911 immediately, and the other grabbed the AED machine. CPR was started immediately on a fact I KNOW contributed to my survival. A police officer was within two minutes of my gym and responded immediately to the call. My gym is also near our local volunteer ambulance core, so the ambulance was on site within 4-6 minutes. I was given multiple shocks from the AED machine both on-site and on the way to the hospital.
Nobody gave up on me, and I’m here because of so many of my community members to whom I am forever indebted!
My community lifted my spirits. While in the hospital, an unknown man appeared at the doorway of my room. One of the EMTs had saved me, and now he was coming to check on me to see how I was doing. I was so overwhelmed with raw emotion that I could barely speak to or thank him enough at the time. I was able to follow up later, but his visit allowed all of my cracks to start, allowing the light in and progressing forward.
Three of my best friends from high school showed up a couple of days later to make me forget where I was. High school friends! I mentioned I’m 51, right? Their love certainly lifted my spirits. The love of so many others over the coming days, weeks, and months continued to hold me and my family up in light and love.
I posted on my town page while in the hospital to thank my community members for saving my life. My post generated hundreds of uplifting messages from friends, former colleagues, parents I had worked with, and strangers. Their heartfelt thoughts and well wishes inspired my recovery.
My family received home-cooked meals, people took care of my kids and checked in constantly. Once I started getting my life back, I would receive spontaneous hugs from others. I walked into the local deli and got a hug and tears from a friend. I went to volleyball and got a hug and positive well wishes from a friend. My kid’s friends, checking in with them to see how I am, etc.
My community and all it encompasses has been the healing power I’ve needed to reach my full recovery.
In response to my cardiac arrest, my gym has partnered with local EMT services and has been offering CPR/AED courses. Dozens of community members have since been certified, increasing our probability of helping someone else in their time of need.
I was just recertified last month, and it hit me much differently this time. It certainly triggered some of my trauma, but overwhelmingly, it was a feeling of joy. My husband and 18-year-old son took the class with me. Also in the class were my scout co-leader and a gym buddy who had been present on the day of my cardiac arrest. My heart was full, and I was there, present and alive.
I’m about 98% recovered. I’ve come a long way from the first grocery list I wrote, where I broke down crying because of all the misspellings, extra squiggles in my letter formations, and my recall ability. My memory was temporarily impacted, and I have worked hard to improve my skills.
