Parent Heart Watch meeting with Matt

I started writing this on the way home from Matt’s trip to Seattle. He was asked to speak before the Parent Heart Watch annual meeting and it was truly an amazing weekend. Matt has been speaking to various groups regarding his cardiac arrest. The parents (and I emphasize that) from Parent Heart Watch wanted to hear Matt because he is a survivor of sudden cardiac arrest. This is unusual, to be frank. Very few survive to speak of their ordeal. And survivors are an attestation to the fact that when we are prepared to deliver CPR and use an AED, lives can be saved. Lives of children. The membership of PHW is comprised of parents who have lost a child to sudden cardiac arrest. Matt, Paul and I were humbled by their tenacity to see something done for the children of this country (actually, the world, as there were many international members in attendance). They have channeled their grief and anger into action and they’re getting something done!

PHW focuses on CPR awareness and training and on getting AEDs placed in schools and public places. There are many sad stories and I don’t need to tell you of the devastation which follows the loss of a child. It’s something you don’t ever get over. You wait…and wait until you die…and you hope that you are going to see your child again. There were those at the meeting who had been members since the organization’s inception. They are seasoned lobbyists for the effort. The loss is further behind them (but never forgotten) so they also form an amazing support group for those whose loss is more acute.

I can tell you that all three of us felt the pang of survivor’s guilt. And we also were reminded of the difference that a moment, a minute, a split second decision, a day…can make. The what ifs went through our minds over and over again. It was a beautiful day and a heartrending day at the same time. We just wanted to hug our baby boy, but we had to share him with others who wanted to hug him too. Did they wonder why our son got to live and theirs didn’t? Some of the children were boys who reminded me of Matt. Big boys, football players. They’re gone. It broke my heart.

People die every day. Death is sad. It’s part of living. Sudden cardiac arrest is a special kind of death. Many die while participating in sports activities. It’s hard to reconcile. It’s fast. There’s no chance to deal with it. It happens while you’re doing something happy. It’s akin to drowning in your wonderful swimming pool. To dying in a wreck in that first car that made them so happy. Is happiness balanced by despair in the total scheme of things? I thought about it a lot this weekend. So why do we put ourselves in that situation? For the cause. Really. Because in some circumstances, these deaths can be prevented and that is all good. And if Matt can promote the cause, he wants to do it. And if he can give a hug and it can help, he wants to help.

December 6, 2007

Something really strange happened in my house today. Have you ever owned a beta fish? They're really great pets. They don't smell. They don't eat much. They're kind of cute and they don't produce much excrement. What more do you want? Mine doesn't do tricks but some people tell me they can. This one, "Blue Thunder" does display some predictable behavior and that makes him a little interesting. For example, when I come into the kitchen in the morning he doesn't get too excited until I turn on a specific light. That's his sign it's time to eat and he starts swimming around in a very exaggerated fashion. Then I give him a couple of beta pellets which last him all day. I've had him for two years and quite frankly, I've grown attached to the little blue guy.

Okay, I forgot to feed him this morning. I was in a hurry. This evening I came home and he was lying listlessly on the bottom of his aquarium. I thought perhaps he was dead and even though I would have felt bad for essentially starving him to death I probably wouldn't have shed a tear. After all, he's just a fish that came to me in a plastic Tupperwear container with holes poked on top.

I tapped on the glass and Blue came alive. Trust me I was glad to see that. The ignoble toilet burial of a fish is nothing to look forward to. Their little limp bodies whirling around...never mind that. He started thrashing around trying to get to the top of the water for his food. There are a bunch of plants and he had to maneuver himself around them to get there and by the time he arrived at the top he was in a state, let me tell you. It was kind of amazing to observe.

Many of you may not realize that beta fish breathe oxygen through their mouth and what looks like little nostrils. They don't use gils. I sprinkled a couple of pellets on the top of the water per ususal protocol. Blue charged at them. And then suddenly he was still. Absolutely still. His little fins stopped moving. He was looking up at me and it was then I realized that in his vigor to get at that food, he had inadvertently sucked up a pellet into one of his little nostrils. He had a stunned look on his little fishy face. Like "what the hell happened here?" How could his little fishy brain comprehend this situation?

He remained paralyzed and began to sink. I thought surely a Siamese fighting fish wouldn't go out like this. Surely he could puff a bubble of air out of that nostril-like thing and rid himself of the pellet. It looked like what my nostril would look like if I stuck a cocoa puff in it. Well, if I had a cocoa puff stuck in my nostril I wouldn't just lay there and die. I would snort it out. Why couldn't he rub it against something? No, he was too stupid to do that. His little primitive brain was no match for the pellet. My beta would die.

Well, I went to work. I got out my little fish net and scooped him up. And then I reached into the water with my index finger and thumb and applied a quick pump to his thorax. And that pellet came shooting out of his nostril like a cannon ball, and off he swam.

So the moral of this story is: fishies need Heimlich maneuvers too.