I posted a blog a few days ago about killing one of my customers when I was a tailor. The bloke was pale and sweating when he first came into the shop. I just put it down to nervousness as he appeared to be a bit of a mummys' boy and didn't seem used to talking to people.
When I started to measure him he just hit the deck. Nothing was working. You've never seen a shopful of people go so quiet so quickly. I gave him all the CPR I could but it was a waste of time. This bloke wasn't coming back. I covered the body with the length of material his mum had chosen for him.
I posted a video and it's well worth watching. Not much more than a minute long but, you might save a life. I'll repost it.
Some years later my mate Paul got divorced but he soon picked himself up another girlfriend. Paul would be in his early thirties and she was eighteen. Cathy her name was and she was fit as a butchers dog. They moved into a flat in a most dreadful area south of the river but, that was all that was available. A haunt of drug dealers and vandals. I used to nip over on a Saturday night for a few drinks. Walk the last half mile because the buses wouldn't run there.
Paul is notoriously tight fisted so the only furniture was a mattress and some sheets in the bedroom. We sat on the living room floor staring at each other while we popped a few beers. Half a dozen pints of Guinness usually did the job and then I'd get a taxi home.
One night Cathy went off to the bathroom but after five minutes she hadn't come back. Paul went off to find out what was up. He comes back dragging her by the wrists. Apparently she'd been taking every tablet she could find in the bathroom. I've no idea why. Not my business.
Her heart had stopped and she wasn't breathing. I started CPR as Paul hadn't been trained at the time.
I blew into her mouth and then remembered that you're supposed to pinch the nose closed or you just get your own breath back on your cheek. Five pumps to the chest and a breath. Continue as required. People who aren't breathing don't breath out. You have to push on the sides of their chest before you can blow into them again. You can't push on the top because that would interfere with your heart pumping.
She was wearing some stupid frilly blouse and I couldn't see what was going on. I ripped it open. Apparently Cathy didn't wear a bra but, you've got more things on your mind when somebodys' heart has stopped than looking at a girls boobies. I kept pumping and blowing while Paul called an ambulance. After a bit she started up again.
The ambulance arrived but they wouldn't come up without a police escort. Paul went down to bring them up. We didn't have time to wait for the police. She needed to be on oxygen. They came up and took her away on a stretcher. Paul and I sat down to finish the beer.
Cathy was alright in the end. She and Paul were together some some years. Then they separated and he married some new chick he met.