“Go rest at the picnic table, Bill. I’m just gonna grab some things in my room and I will meet you down there.”
“Okay.” Bill nodded and slowly started towards the stairwell.
I locked up the health office and bounded up the stairs while Radio Acorn was playing “Who will save your soul?” by Jewel. It led me to consider how it might be possible to do CPR on a passenger in my van. Would it be best to just recline the seat and attempt compressions while standing outside the vehicle? Or, would it be better to pull Bill out of the car, place him on the shoulder of the road and do compressions there? At least that way people driving by would know what I was up to and might come to my aid?
Oh Lord! I couldn’t believe that I was having to consider this! Bill’s situation was very worrisome though.
I busted into our room on the third floor. Himself was pulling on a shirt. My son was sitting on the floor, talking softly to himself while arranging small rocks into a straight line.
“Sooooo…I am gonna run into town again…”
“What!?” Himself asked as his head popped out of the top of his t-shirt.
“Bill is having chest pain and shortness of breath.” I explained as I picked up my backpack from where I had left it on the floor earlier this morning. I opened my bedside table and pulled out my keys and my wallet. ” I need to take him into the ER to have a doctor look at him.”
“Can’t he just drive himself?”
“Nooooo. Not really. What if he has a myocardial infarction while driving?”
“Good point. But can’t a counselor take him in?”
“Let me put it this way. Who would you rather do CPR on you? An inexperienced teen aged counselor, who has only done CPR on a rubber manikin or a registered nurse who has actually performed CPR successfully on a real human being?” I held out my hands towards my husband and slowly turned them over so he could admire the life sustaining beauties. Now, in truth, of the three times I had performed CPR, only one was successful, and even then, the patient only survived two hours. Details. And, in my defense, all three were critically ill intensive care patients who were not expected to survive.
“Oh God! Do you think you might have to do CPR?” Himself paled and swallowed.
“I sure hope not but the dude looks like crap! He’s all pasty and clammy. He is making me super nervous. I sure as heck won’t be able to relax until I have had him seen and we rule out all the scary possibilities!”
“So am I on my own again?”
“Pretty much, ya.” I gave him a small guilty smile. “Sorry!”
“Are you going to change at least?” Himself asked as he looked at my crumpled outfit I had worn yesterday and then slept in.
“Nah. Why bother?” I shrugged as I swung the back pack onto my back and jangled the keys.
“Who are you? And what have you done to my wife?”
“She has forever changed, darling!”
Camp had done that to me in a week.