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I clench my hand into a fist and rub the spot she’s indicated. When Cybil doesn’t flinch, I do it a little harder.
“Nothing’s happening,” I cry. “Why is nothing happening?”
“Is she still breathing?”
I place my head on her chest. It scarcely rises every ten seconds or so. “Not much. Her breaths are really slow.”
“Do you know how to perform CPR?”
I nod, thinking back to freshman year health class.
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I think I know how. I’ve never done it before.”
“I’ll walk you through it step-by-step. Can you put your phone on speaker?”
I do as she says and place my phone on the dingy carpet. “Okay, you’re on speaker. What do I do?”
“She needs to be on her back,” she says. “Is she on her back?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, tilt her chin up and check inside her mouth to see if there’s anything blocking her airway. If you find anything, remove it if you can.”
I tilt my mom’s chin up and pry her lips open to sweep my finger inside. I go from cheek to cheek and feel nothing so I look down the back of her mouth as far as I can.
“There’s nothing. Nothing’s in her mouth.”
“Okay, we’re going to start mouth-to-mouth but no chest compressions. You’ll need to plug her nose with one hand, and give two even, regular-sized breaths. Blow enough air into her lungs to make her chest rise. If you don’t see her chest rise out of the corner of your eye, tilt the head back more and make sure you’re plugging her nose sufficiently. Tell me when you’ve done that.”
I press my lips to Cybil’s and gag as I taste the remnants of her vomit. I follow the operator’s instructions and watch as her chest inflates and subsequently falls. I hear sirens roaring in the distance but I feel no relief as you might expect. All I can think about is the fact that my mom is lying here unconscious while I’m literally trying to breathe life into her.
“I’ve done it twice,” I shout. “But she’s still the same.”
“Okay, ma’am. Paramedics will be there to assist at any moment. I want you to continue giving your mom one breath every five seconds until they arrive.”
I count to five four more times before there’s a knock on my door. I run to open it and step aside as a man and woman dressed in paramedic uniforms cross the threshold. Since my living room is right inside the door, they easily locate my mom and get to work. Everything is a blur as they assess her condition and do what they can to treat her. They do some more breathing and inject something into her thigh but they’re moving so fast I can’t decipher much else. I step over to the small table and take a seat as they raise their gurney and strap her in. The woman looks back at me while she takes up the rear and starts pushing my mom through the door.
“The town clinic isn’t set up for this type of emergency. We’re taking her to Lincoln City Memorial. Do you know where that is?”
I nod. Lincoln City is only a ten-minute drive north. Like any small coastal town, nothing is really hard to find.
She gives me a sympathetic look. “Would you like to ride with us?”
I wipe the tears out of my eyes to clear my vision. “No, I’ll follow you.”
The paramedic nods. “Okay, check in with the front desk at Emergency and they’ll direct you to the right place.”
I numbly grab my purse and watch as they load my mom into the back of their rig. I’m not even sure if I remember to lock the door as I climb in my car and turn the ignition. The ambulance lights flash as it pulls onto the road while I go into autopilot and shift my car into gear to follow.
“HI, I’M HERE FOR CYBIL KENNEDY. The paramedics said she’d be here.”
The hospital receptionist clicks her fingers on the keyboard, searching for Cybil’s room number, I’m guessing. She purses her lips. “Are you a family member?”
I nod. “I’m her daughter.”
The woman looks down for a moment before coming from behind her desk. She places her hand on my elbow with compassion in her eyes.
