Maybe I should rethink my current profession of choice. No, I don't mean the stay at home mom job, I'm talking about the EMT class I took, passed, but haven't finished my state certifications for yet.
My day has been great. Kyra has been a doll, as usual. And then it just went kaput in the blink of an eye.
I was busy making dinner, a wonderful taco delight, and Kyra was at the table helping me tear the lettuce. The Babies kept walking in and out of my Nanny's room, to which I thought they were bothering her. I shooed them out several times before I actually walked in to ask if they were bothering her. I look to the bed, no Nanny. I look towards the bathroom, door is open, no Nanny. Look back in the bedroom, find her slumped over her bed side table with her head, face down, buried in a box. Ya, lovely.
Respirations? Check. Pulse? Check. Obvious signs of blood or serious injury? None to be seen. Pick her up? Um, not happening. Call for back up. On the way. Call 911. Done.
Back up arrives few minutes later, pull her up and lay her out on the floor. Eww, gross, if she stops breathing I don't know if I can giver her mouth to mouth, she's got juices coming from her mouth.
Still breathing? Check. Still a pulse? Check. Air way clear? Best as I can get it. Wait for medics to arrive and do their thing.
I don't know how she's doing right now, but she's pulled through many times before, and I have high hopes for this time too. What really concerns me is that I doubted giving her life saving breaths because her face was (for a lack of a more mature term) icky.
Seriously, you can't really be a true EMT and look at a patient while thinking, "eww. I can't touch that, that's gross!" Now I understand why we wear gloves and put a face mask over their mouths.
True heroes of the story, The Babies, who wouldn't stay out of her room, forcing my attention in that direction.