Yesterday I spent nearly 10 hours in a conference room at the Red Cross in Manhattan, getting my CPR/AED Professional Rescuer certification.
I KNOW, right? ME? I nearly passed out last year when Stuart cut his finger on a Guinness bottle. My self-enforced fear of blood (especially blood of someone I love so much) made him hide from me the slice he cut into his thumb a few months later, until it was too late for stitches and he got yelled at by an ER doctor and it was all my fault. MY FAULT!
So I was a little nervous about the CPR training. For the first few hours, I sat there imagining all the way my students would horribly injure themselves, reading over and over the part of my packet that reminded me that once I was certified, it would be my legal duty to use my skills on the job. ACK.
Something shifted between the rescue breathing practice and the conscious and unconscious choking. By the time I got to CPR itself, and using a defibrillator, I felt strong and confident. Nevermind that I got lightheaded during the presentation about a heart attack and cardiac arrest, imagining my dad’s eight years ago. (I mean, duh, I cry in father/daughter commercials, this is to be expected.)
I really nailed CPR. I started feeling confident with my rescue breathing. And hey, I aced the test! I am the valedictorian of saving lives. Nyah nyah. In some seriousness, I only realized afterwards when I was explaining it all to Stuart (and making him lie down on the floor so I could practice safely turning someone over) that this has scared me for a long time. Not knowing how to respond if someone I’m in charge of, or someone I love, gets hurt and needs my help is the stuff of my nightmares (and of course, lately, there have been dream turtles, but I’ll get to them in another post).
Yesterday made me feel like if the situation calls for it – if one of my kids gets hurt – I won’t have to run around in a blind panic for lack of a more productive reaction. I’ll probably know exactly what to do. They say adrenaline always kicks in anyway, that even before this training I would have been more collected than I imagine (since anything is more collected than my nightmarish exploding-head technique). But the card in my wallet reminds me that I have what I need now, just in case if I didn’t before. It’s very empowering.
I think I’ll do First Aid next, and conquer that little “See Blood, Promptly Faint” problem. It should come in handy when the universe bequeaths me seven sons and all they ever want to do is run into walls of knives.

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