"Hope"

I want to brag about something my wife, Mary1, did. Here in Rochester, an event was held in September, 2007 called Emergency Responders Appreciation Day. Mary was the featured speaker at this event. She wrote the entire speech by herself, a speech about hope. I am sure that many of you can relate to this and will appreciate what she wrote. Here is the text:

Hello. Thank you for being here today. I have the privilege of speaking today on behalf of all of the victims that have ever been helped by EMT's, firefighters, police officers, 911 communicators, and any other emergency responders up to and including the military. My message is about hope. Hope is important because it produces the motivation to act.

On July 15, 2006 I was the recipient of the amazing help these men and women provide each and every day. As my husband Paul and I stood in our kitchen chatting about something as mundane as who was going to take the dog outside in the rain, I suddenly leaned over the sink, then collapsed backward. Within seconds Paul realized something was horribly wrong and he dialed 911. He had never taken a CPR course before, but the 911 communicator quickly helped him determine my heart had stopped. She talked him through CPR until the first firefighters arrived. North Greece Fire Department was the first on the scene, soon followed by Lakeshore Fire Department. It was immediately determined I was in full cardiac arrest. The chance of surviving a Sudden Cardiac Arrest is about 10%. It took two attempts with an automatic external defibrillator to restart my heart.

Very quickly Greece Volunteer Ambulance arrived. The paramedics intubated me and prepared to bring me to Parkridge hospital. As I was wheeled out to the ambulance, Paul was told they would do everything they could. He knew the situation looked grim, yet he was left with at least a sliver of hope.

At the hospital, I was put into an induced coma. They used a cooling therapy to cool my body down so there would be more blood flow to my vital organs. Even then, my family was warned I would likely die, or survive in a vegetative state. Paul brought my organ donor card to the hospital, knowing that is what I would want. But he also decided to bring my glasses, because he had the hope I would wake up and he knew I would be lost without them. I beat the odds, and now I stand before you to say thank you.

Although I was fortunate to have the opportunity to thank many of the individuals that saved my life that day, it didn't feel like enough. Each of those men and women told me, if it hadn't been them, it would have been someone else. At first I was surprised by their modesty. But then I realized that IS what you all do. You put your own lives on the line, you witness the tragedies in people's lives on a daily basis, you comfort families and victims, and most importantly to me, you offer hope.

People often ask me what I've learned from my experience. In the beginning I wasn't sure. But, as I met my rescuers and learned my story from their perspectives, I learned about the place hope has in our lives.

Paul tells me when I first collapsed he thought I might already be gone. He said I had an expression of death. We requested to hear the 911 tape. For the first few seconds, Paul did nothing but desperately scream my name. When the 911 communicator first spoke, I was almost surprised by her ability to take charge of the situation. She was compassionate, yet firm. Within seconds Paul calmed down and was able to follow her directions. I credit her for giving Paul the hope he needed at that moment.

The firefighters from both Lakeshore and North Greece spoke of getting updated information from the 911 communicator as they traveled to the scene. Upon hearing my age and circumstances, they knew before seeing me that the situation was dire. Yet they arrived as quickly as possible, they provided the emergency care needed, and were able to pass me on to Greece Volunteer Ambulance, still alive and with at least some hope of survival. The GVA staff gave that gift of hope to Paul when they promised to do all they could on the way to the hospital.

When I later met the Greece Volunteer Ambulance EMT's, they told me they truly did have hope for me that morning. I was breathing a little on my own, although I continued to need the support of the intubation tube. They also mentioned I moved a bit during the ride to the hospital. Sadly, a doctor at the hospital tried to say it was hopeless, that what they saw was reflexive. I was able to prove the EMT's right when I went to their spring banquet and thanked them in person for saving my life.

I learned a few things about hope that I would like to share with you.

There are 3 types of hope:

1. Desperation: the kind of hope Paul had when he dialed 911. Part of him believed I was already gone, yet he continued to do what he needed to do.

2. Optimism: I believe this is what the GVA EMT's were experiencing. It means the probability of a positive outcome is variable. Although only a small percentage of Sudden Cardiac Arrest victims survive, they continued to work quickly and with all of their knowledge, hoping for a positive outcome.

3. Realistic Hope: This means there is a 50% chance or better of a positive outcome. This did not occur in my case. In spite of the slim chances, all of the emergency responders gave me their best care.
Hope implies a certain amount of perseverance - believing a positive outcome is possible, even when there is some evidence to the contrary.
Hope is an ability to work for something because it is good.

You do what you do each day because you believe you can help people and make a difference. You arrive at the scene of an emergency with the hope that your intervention will make the difference. It does, each and every time. Even when there is a fatality, the fact that the public can count on you to be there makes all the difference in the world.
I know what I told you today is extremely personal. But the way you touch people's lives on a daily basis IS personal.

On behalf of all survivors and their families, thank you.

Written by Mary Pakusch