Have you ever seen them? If they're ever in your area you MUST go. They're amazing.
Anyway, our getting there was touch and go. Fred got back late from being on call. We left without the tickets and had to go back for them. The car started acting funny. We had to drop two kids off on the way, and that made us even later. We finally got there and got through the doors to take our seats within about a minute of them closing the doors to late arrivals.
The seats we had were less than stellar. There had been some kind of problem with the original tickets Fred had ordered, and the agency exchanged them for different seats. We never did find out why they made that switch. So we were in the very highest section of the balcony in the very back row.
OK, whatevs. It is what it is, I figured, even though some of our view was obscured by the slope of the ceiling.
But about halfway through the show, the weirdest thing happened.
The ushers were escorting a man out. I guess they believed him to be drunk, the way he was staggering, and they were more carrying him than escorting him, walking down the aisleway right behind us. Then he slipped out of their grasp and fell to the floor, slumped halfway down the stairs a few seats away from me to my right. He was lying there on the steps and several ushers were just standing around him staring at him, I guess unsure what to do.
"Fred, what's going on? Something's wrong with that man," I whispered.
Fred looked over as the ushers were hauling the man to his feet. They dragged him a little farther, opened a door, then released him and he fell forward again onto the fire escape landing two or three stories up.
Fred got up then to go check things out. I saw him work with the ushers to get the man up and bring him into the lobby.
He was gone a good long while.
I heard the siren of an ambulance.
Fred finally made his way back to his seat, but I didn't get the full story till we were on our way home.
That man? Not drunk. Apparently he has cancer, and he had given blood that morning in preparation for his upcoming surgery. Also, he hadn't eaten much at all. So his blood sugar went a little wonky, and he had a vasovagal reaction.
When they got the man to the lobby, he was in bad shape. Disoriented. Couldn't stand. He threw up. These guys were all just standing around staring at him as Fred was trying to roll him onto his side so he wouldn't aspirate and choke on his own vomit. He had cut his head when he fell. No one even called 911 till Fred told them to do so.
But Fred had control of the scene and made sure everything happened that should have.
And that guy? He's going to be OK.
And I can't help but think that if our seats hadn't been switched, we never would have been aware of what was going on with that man.
Those idiots threw him onto the fire escape.
Stood and watched him as he lay on his back and vomited.
I know Fred has saved countless lives in his 20 years as a trauma surgeon, by being in the right place at the right time in the hospital as dying patients were brought to him.
But this is the second time he has saved someone by being in the wrong place at the right time.
Someone had His hand in this....
Image source: bluemangrouptickets.wordpress.com
************
Read it.
Like it?
Follow it.
Please?
Thanks.
(Follow my blog by adding yourself as a follower with Google Friends Connect in my sidebar!)
***************************
Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.
Thanks!
***************
In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller. Check out my schedule in my sidebar and come join the fun!
*************
Rudeness disclaimer:
I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.
