By Refraction

NEUSTAETER: Well, I finally used the Heimlich maneuver

Feb 3, 2019 | 6:00 AM

THE FIRST TIME I TOOK A first aid class I was 12 years old.

After reading every book in the Babysitter’s Club cover to cover twice I had an adequately romanticized picture in my mind of the glories, perils and adventures of child care to decide that it was the perfect first career path for me. (Also, I needed the cash to keep me in candy)

When you are a preteen, the St. John’s Ambulance Babysitting course feels like it is 30,000 hours and you will be old and decrepit long before you ever see the light of day again. In reality, it’s a two-day course that is, to this day, some of the best practical preparation I have ever had for life.

It taught me things that I may or may not have picked up somewhere else during my lifetime, like asking for the wage I expected and deserved, using common sense, treating a job as the responsibility it is, going over and above in my work and not stealing stuff because more people have nanny cams than you might expect. But it also taught me critical skills that I would not have learned anywhere else, like how to save a life.

Before taking the babysitting course, I had already done some casual child care, but had developed a deep anxiety about children choking, to the point where I was turning down opportunities because of it.

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I had babysat a time or two for family friends who I adored before one of their children tragically died choking on a hot dog on his fourth birthday. His family did absolutely everything it could have to save him and it was in no way their fault or failing that he died. The grief of his loss was terrible and while the repercussions for me were nothing compared to that of his family, I did find myself deeply affected by it.

When we reached the point in the First Aid training that taught methods for dealing with choking I remember being equal parts terrified and relieved. While I was petrified of being the person responsible to take action if a child choked, I would at least have some idea about what to do if I had to face my worst fear.

We learned basic CPR — it was not nearly as entertaining as the CPR episode of The Office but infinitely more helpful — and the Heimlich maneuver. I remember thinking, “Please, God, don’t let me ever need to use this,” while practising on my best friend who was simulating choking: positioning myself behind her, finding the right spot near the diaphragm, placing one hand over the other and thrusting to remove an upper airway obstruction.

I also remember wondering if I would actually have the wherewithal and guts to do it if the moment ever presented itself.

Over the proceeding 24 years I did other first aid refresher courses, but never had to employ the training, until last weekend when my daughter choked while we were eating dinner.

I heard her cough once and turned my head to see her eyes becoming wider and wider as the panic rose up.

“Are you actually choking?! Can you cough?”

Nothing.

She tried to reach down her throat to remove what was lodged.

Nothing.

“CAN YOU BREATHE?!”

Nothing.

I gave her a couple firm slaps on the back.

Nothing.

It felt like time stood still as my sons and I screamed for my husband to call 9-1-1 and with hardly a thought I spun my girl around and gave her the Heimlich maneuver, which I learned when I was almost the exact same age as she is now.

It only took two thrusts and it worked; she expelled the food caught in her throat and we all stood staring at each other in disbelief.

“Did that actually help? Did it do something or did you bring it up on your own?” I asked her later.

“Oh no, it definitely worked. I couldn’t breathe at all and it wasn’t going up or down. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t done that,” was her shaky answer.

The truth is that I still don’t really think I do have the wherewithal and guts to do what was needed when that moment arose; I didn’t feel confident, brave or qualified. But, despite my insufficiencies, the entry-level first aid training I had done years before accomplished exactly what it was meant to: even though I felt terrified and inadequate, it kicked in and saved a life.

Life changes on a dime.

Even if it did feel like 30,000 hours at the time, I’d do that training over and over and over again and pay all the money in the world knowing that it could mean the difference between having my child here today or not.

Even if I desperately hope I’ll never have to do it again I’ll always be thankful that I had learned that basic life skill and would encourage everyone else to do the same.

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Editor’s Note: This opinion piece reflects the views of its author, and does not necessarily represent the views of CFJC Today or the Jim Pattison Broadcast Group.