Stayin' Alive or Another One Bites the Dust?

This week, I re-certified in CPR and First-Aid. I realize that being CPR/First-Aid certified is not all that unusual, especially in my profession. In fact, as a music teacher who regularly works with students outside of school contract hours, I am required to take CPR classes. But remember, even though having one's CPR certification is commonplace in our society, I can still make a complete fool of myself in the process.

Two years ago, it was finally brought to my attention that, as a music teacher, I should keep my CPR certification current. (My last training had been at age fifteen when I could get extra credit for my sophomore health class.) I was involved in a community theater group soon after completing the CPR course, and I spent much of the production randomly tapping (fully conscious) people on the collarbone and yelling out, "Are you alright? I'm First-Aid certified. Do you need help?" I thought I was being hilarious. The jury is still out as to whether others thought the same.

I would also yell this across restaurant tables when a friend or family member started coughing after a piece of food "went down the wrong pipe." My husband, Dan, would typically react by kicking me under the table and saying, "If they can cough and talk, they can breathe," at which point, I would act as a cheerleader, "Good job! Keep coughing that junk up!" One time, I caught a flying piece of food right in the face.

If you have ever taken a CPR course, you probably know that chest compressions should happen at 100 beats per minute or (as seen on The Office) at the tempo of the Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive." During class, our instructor played "Stayin' Alive" while we practiced our chest compressions.

"Decide if you're an optimist or a pessimist," the instructor said. "If you're an optimist, imagine 'Stayin' Alive.' If you're a pessimist, you can always sing Queen's 'Another One Bites the Dust.'"

After an eight-hour day of 100-beat-per-minute chest compressions, I had to ice my hand. I had bruises on my palms and between my thumb and index finger. I had never realized until my CPR classes that I have such bony hands and wrists.

That evening, Dan quizzed me for my written and practical tests the next morning.

"I felt like I couldn't breathe when we watched the 'Breathing Trouble' segment of the video," I told him. "And I swear I've had signs of a heart attack before."

Dan's response: (with a roll of the eyes) "You've never had a heart attack, and you don't have asthma or trouble breathing or anything like that. You run or do Zumba everyday."

"I could have a stroke, and you wouldn't even know. Sometimes it's just a sudden headache."

Dan's response: (with a roll of the eyes) "You won't have a stroke." 

"I could. The birth control I'm on raises your risk for blood clots, especially if you are a thirty-five year-old smoker."

Dan's response: (with a roll of the eyes) "You're not a smoker."

"But I'm thirty-five."

"Do you want me to quiz you or not?"

"Do you know we have black widows and brown recluses and rattlesnakes and scorpions around here?"

Dan's response: (with a roll of the eyes) Silence.

"I'm not doing outdoorsy stuff this summer by the way. Our instructor said the rattlesnakes and ticks will be bad because of the wet, mild spring."

Dan's response: (with a roll of the eyes) Silence.

Then I insisted on showing Dan the CPR steps I would have to reenact during my practical exam.

"The scene is safe! Are you okay?" I pounded on the floor. "Help! I need help! You! Call 911 and get an AED," I looked at the floor/imaginary person for ten seconds. "Victim isn't breathing. Beginning chest compressions."

Around 4:30 that morning, I woke up, punched Dan, and said, "I could be at risk for heart disease."

Dan's response: (probably with a roll of the eyes, but it was dark) "Has anyone in your family even ever died of heart disease?"

"My grandfather died of a heart attack."

"He was a smoker."

I didn't go back to sleep.

"You just have to fake it," the instructor said. "If you can fake authority, it goes a long way. The important thing is staying calm. That helps keep everyone else calm."

When I told Dan this, he said (with a sarcastic raise of the eyebrows), "And we all know that's what you do best - stay calm."

The next morning, I pumped myself full of caffeine and took my tests. I'm a great tester, but I am still a little worried about the practical application of it all.

If I ever had to administer CPR, would it be "Stayin' Alive" or "Another One Bites the Dust?" Comforting thought, isn't it?