Safety

Yes CJ, its story time with Gerry again.

Over the years I have hurt myself in some very creative ways. If you stretch your fingers apart, you will see the small web of skin between the base of your fingers. I cut myself there once with a pair of scissors. Because it was in such an odd spot the doctor could not put in stitches. I was such a klutz that I took CPR just in case I did something really serious to myself.

When I was a teenager, I was working at a restaurant, and was attempting to tighten a pipe fitting. The wrench slipped, and I ended up mashing my hand, at the base of the thumb, into a piece of metal. The doctor at the hospital informed me that I had done quite a job; he told me I had damaged muscle, nerves, and a vein. It would require 7 stitches to close a wound that was less than an inch long. He was examining the wound with a probe, and then asked me if he’d given me freezing yet. He hadn’t.

Shortly after this, I had to move my motorcycle, which was in pieces on the garage floor, out of the way so my Dad, Big Al, could park the car in the garage. On the way out of the garage, with the door partially closed, I walked into a screw-point sticking through the door, and grazed the top of my head. I ended up with 5 stitches.

I think I come by my klutzy-ness honestly. My Dad, sometime after WWII, was working at a printing plant in Montréal. He was waiting for the freight elevator, and after a bit, became impatient. He stuck his head through the gate to look for where the elevator was. Unfortunately, it was there.

He was in the hospital for almost a year. Big Al’s skull and jaw were fractured, among other things, and required some re-building. When they rebuilt his nose and sinuses, things were a little amiss. After he was discharged, every time he lay down with even the lightest of sniffles, his nose and sinuses would plug up in seconds.

When he was in his mid-fifties he suffered some sort of episodes that were later decided to have been a cross between seizures and strokes caused by scar tissue on the surface of his brain. His neurologist believed the scars came from the elevator. It is a very scary day when your old man is squeezing your hand, out of fear, lying in a hospital bed, wondering if he’s going to die. He was the strong one; he was my Dad, and there I was holding his hand to make him feel safe. This was a life defining moment for me.

Big Al did regain his mobility, but never was able to return to work. Interestingly enough, the birthing hospital where my siblings and I all came into this world had been turned into a rehab hospital. After a few months at the Catherine Booth Hospital, he was able to walk around with a cane. In later years, he became a fixture around Benny Farm, walking slowly around the development with his cane, every day.

There were other long term issues; he lost his motivation, lost his organizational skills, and his memory was spotty. He also would later have problems with his gag reflex.

In 1999, while visiting my parents, my daughters and I took Gramps out to dinner. My mom was not feeling well so she passed on dinner. In the middle of the meal, he became distressed and was unable to tell me what was wrong. I was escorting him to the washroom when he collapsed. The restaurant staff immediately called an ambulance, and were being very helpful. One of the ladies pointed out that he was turning blue. My CPR training came back to me immediately and I sat him up and performed the Heimlich maneuver. After 3 deep pulls into his solar plexus, he resumed breathing.

The hospital discharged him that night. My Mom had to do the Heimlich on Big Al at least once herself, in later years. Thanks to my Mom and me, we were to enjoy my Dad’s company for another 5 years.

I can not recall how much the Guelph Fire Department charged me for the CPR course, but it was the greatest bargain ever. It was also the best spent Saturday morning of my life.

Cheers Folks.