I was on patrol today (i.e. driving around in a mindless stupor because for the last ten hours the only call that the dispatcher has given you is in reference to a woman complaining about her neighbor's cat), and was cruising up West Hall Avenue when I saw a white van off of the left side of the road and a group of people gathered near it waving frantically at me as I approached. My trainee and I both assumed it was a "20" (traffic accident), so I put my lights on, pulled over, and got out of my car, observing that the white van had struck a telephone pole and was partially through a wire fence. As soon as I got out of the car, the people started telling us that the driver was having a heart attack.

Ran to the van, and saw that the driver was totally slumnped over, with his head on the floor of the van between the two front seats. We couldn't get the driver's door open and there was too much junk in the van to get him out the other side, so my trainee and I got him upright in the seat, I called for an ambulance, tipped the seat back as far as it would go, and checked him for breathing and pulse.

Nada. I yelled to Mike (trainee) to get my CPR mask out of the car, and I started chest compressions. Mike came back a couple of seconds later with the mask, I fitted it over the victim's face, and attempted to give breaths through the mask. Wouldn't work--couldn't get a decent seal and was hardly getting any air into him.

At this time, I took a deep breath, wiped the spittle off of the guy's face with the back of my hand, chucked the mask, and gave breaths the old fashioned way. Yep--good old mouth-to-mouth. I discovered quickly that the victim was a smoker. (Yes, the reader can say, "Ick!" here if he or she pleases.)

While I was doing CPR in the driver's seat, Mike was attempting to get the driver's door free of the fence. A second officer arrived who happened to have bolt cutters, and they quickly cut through the fence, and got the door open, at which time the three of us hauled the guy out of the driver's door and got him onto a flat spot. I started CPR again. I felt ribs break. He stared straight up, not seeing. I yelled at him. He gurgled a bit and I stopped, looked, listened, felt for a pulse, but he went back to staring at the sky. I started CPR again.

EMS arrived, and I continued to do my thing. "One and two and three and four..." Count to fifteen, give two breaths, start over. At one point, one of the EMS guys took over doing chest compressions, and I took over the breathing and we did two-man CPR. Five and one, five and one. Then finally, the paramedics had their equipment ready and I was told to give two quick breaths, then step back so they could do the airway.

Gave two breaths, they slid the airway in, and I stood back and watched. They hooked him up the machine that goes PING. (No, it doesn't really go PING. Extra points for anyone who can tell me the source of that one-liner.) We all watched the little green screen with the squiggly line, and we'd all watched enough TV to know that the squiggly line wasn't supposed to be doing that. "Is the ground wet?" one of the paramedics asked as he got the paddles ready. "Dry as a bone," I replied. "Clear!" and the guy jerked just like they do on TV.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"I have a rhythm!"

At which time I gave a "Woohoo! High five!"... and all the EMS and paramedics gave me a very funny look. Well, I thought it deserved a "Woohoo!"

They took him to the hospital, where they later determined that he had indeed suffered a major heart attack. After the ambulance left, the EMS guys kept coming up to me and shaking my hand. "Good job. How's it feel to save a life?"

Pretty fucking cool. I must admit.

I got a page later in the evening: "Mr. Garis Poynot is alive and kicking at SMH ICU."

Pretty fucking cool.