Scary Day

Had something interesting happen at work the other day - a phone call that must be one of the worst nightmares for a mother: A co-workers daughter called. The daughter's boyfriend, who was just released from prison, was on his way to her house! Then the phone went dead.

Moments later someone yelled out, "Call 911! Somebody call 911!" At those words and the commotion of co-workers running around, I stood up from my desk and saw, over my cubicle, Tracy hanging on to a file cabinet, too weak to stand herself, and pale in color. A chair was rapidly brought at the request of another co-worker, Lynn, who oversaw the ordeal. Tracy was scared for her daughter's safety was hardly able to breathe or talk.

Another one of my co-workers quickly grabbed her cell phone called the police as Tracy strained to tell her the address of the daughter. Tracy continually repeated, "He's going to kill her." "He is beating her right now."

Lynn kept Tracy calm, reminding her to concentrate on her breathing and to relax. After several minutes, Lynn said a prayer for her safety.

Exhilarating news followed by sighs of relief. The police had arrived at the daughter's home, the boyfriend was in handcuffs and the daughter was safe.

That's scary, but what was happening during that time is also scary. We all kept waiting for the paramedics to arrive! Fifteen minutes passed from the time 911 was contacted before the paramedics leisurely made their way on to our floor after receiving a call for a potential heart attack! A HEART ATTACK. You don't mosey on over when minutes may mean the difference between life and death! At least some of my co-workers knew how to handle the situation, but what is the deal.

For the record, this all happened in New Haven, one of the larger cities in CT, not some podunk town!

Anyway, I changed names to keep privacy. Crazy day!