No quiet lunch date...

An hour and twenty minutes into our lunch date (yes, how we do enjoy our long lunches) Margaret, Michelle and I were startled by a loud crack followed by shattering glass of the bakery window. We looked to our side and the window to the bakery was shattered, there was a man on the ground on the sidewalk and two cars were parked side-by-side on the street. From the next few minutes I remember some of what happened, while other events I can't. I remember being at the front door of the bakery, seeing the bicyclist, with a "What the h---" look on his face, starting to get up. I thought, "He'll be OK," and then kept looking around. Then I remember the sound of the car engine still revving, and saw the driver with his head back - passed out. I clearly remember thinking, "I can't go in front of the car because it's still going." So I ran behind it and opened his door - surprised it was unlocked. Yet his car was parallel to a small SUV parked in the street and I couldn't open the door all the way, let alone squeeze in to turn off the car. By this time there were others on the passenger side of the car. With my right hand I tried to feel a pulse on the driver's neck and with my left I pushed every button I could trying to get the other door unlocked so the others could get in to help the man. I remember being surprised at how smooth and nice and warm the man's neck felt. By this time, an older man was behind me and yelled for people to call 911. It felt like ten minutes had already gone by and I couldn't feel the man's pulse and all I was doing with my left hand was moving the car windows up and down. It was so quiet. The man behind me said, "Let me try," so I moved out of the way and let him in. I went to the passenger side and tried to break the window open. A man jumped on the hood of the car and tried to kick in that window and I remember thinking, "The driver's mouth is open, you don't want glass to get in his mouth." Another man used some kind of tool on the passenger window and said, "Watch out." I turned around so I wouldn't get hit by glass but nothing happened. I heard someone say, "Two pushes, one breath... two pushes one breath," under his breath and then yell, "I know CPR; I can do CPR." When I turned back around I went to the second car, the one that was parked in the street parallel to the incapacitated one and got in. The older man was still trying to help the driver and was right in between the two cars and I thought, "I should tell him so he isn't surprised when the car moves, but is it worth the time it'll take? Yes, I don't want to run him over," so I got back out and told him I was going to move the car. He said, "Good idea." I got back in. It was a stick shift. Crap. "I can do this, it should be old hat," I thought. But then I saw there weren't any keys in the car. I got back out and the owner of the car was right there and said, "Should I move it?" I replied, "Yeah, that'd be great." Then a woman driving by yelled, "My husband is a cardiologist - he's having lunch in there." So I headed to the bakery to get him, wondering why he wasn't already out there. Then I heard her say, "Oh, he's in the car already." So I went back into the bakery - to Michelle and Margaret and got wrapped up in a hug. The bicyclist was sitting at a table and was worried about his bike - it was indeed pretty mangled - but he looked OK. We went back to our table and stood there. All I could think was that I couldn't find a pulse on the man's neck and that in this whole time (which Michelle said was probably only two minutes) the man hadn't moved at all. The ambulance got there, the police were there and firemen were there. The bakery staff was cleaning up the glass that had fallen all over the two-top right below the window. We watched the ambulance crew undo the man's shirt and do something - he sort of jerked. Then they carried him off to the ambulance, one person had his legs and another his armpits. I started crying again, assuming he was dead. But nobody really seemed to know. We bussed our table, put our coats on and walked the block to the car - our voices shaking talking about what just happened.

There - that's my perspective on the events. You can read about the incident here (look for Pole Crashes Through Bakery)and get a better picture of the whole scene.

I can't stop thinking about it - about how everything I tried to do failed and how that short time seemed like ten, even twenty minutes. Did I make things worse by trying to help? Yet it wasn't a conscious decision to go out there. Why couldn't I find the damn door lock? Throughout the whole thing, I think the only words I spoke were, "I'll move the car," and "That'd be great." My mind was totally clear - almost white - yet my thoughts were racing. Instinct certainly took over - yet I had moments of clear thoughts. I noticed the handicapped sticker tucked to the driver's right side, the cane that sat on the passenger floor at a diagonal so the driver could easily grab it. The radio wasn't on, the car was warm and the driver was warm. But no pulse - at least not that I could feel. When Margaret dropped me off at home I went to Dave and made him sit while I tried to find his pulse - and was somewhat reassured when I couldn't find his pulse either. Then, I watched the 5:00 news, then the 6:00 news and finally the 10:00 news - the 81-year-old driver was in critical condition, but he was alive. And I felt helpless - no thanks to me was he alive. I tried to help - oh how I tried - but nothing I did seemed to work. People have said, "Maybe you spurred others to action." or "You tried..." but I still get shaky when I think about it and my heart starts pounding. If something like this happens again and instinct takes over I hope I remember something else - take a deep breath and slow down... and I'll have a better chance of finding the damn door lock.