When you see a cardiac arrest, your brain fights you - "No, this isn't really happening" - and the circumstances fight you - "Dang! in CPR class the manikin didn't weigh very much and wasn't sitting in a deep chair. This blog deals with practical details and presents reports of "saves." Let me have your questions and comments - they will steer the course of this blog. This blog is brought to you by the volunteers at www.slicc.org
Saturday, November 19, 2011
This is the way it is supposed to work...
The three Whiteland students gathered around their classmate as his body convulsed.
The boy had gone into a seizure, his eyes rolling back in his head and his limbs jerking in spasms. Suddenly he stopped breathing and went limp.
Katie Foster, Brittni Dodd and Mercedes Hart had practiced CPR for hours in their health careers classes. Now, they were called on to act.
The three Whiteland Community High School students helped save the life of a classmate on a school bus Tuesday morning.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Technically, he was right...
Bob Ruthman died at Andy Rooney's memorial service.
as reported on AntiMusic.com
On Thursday Andy Rooney's College Roommate Suffers Cardiac Arrest At Memorial was a top story. Here is the recap: (TMZ) Andy Rooney's college roommate was revived after going into cardiac arrest at a memorial for the CBS commentator yesterday.
Andy's son, Brian Rooney, got up on a chair and announced to the crowd that Ruthman had died.
We are now told the FDNY revived Ruthman and he is currently in intensive care at a New York hospital.
Andy's son, Brian Rooney, got up on a chair and announced to the crowd that Ruthman had died.
We are now told the FDNY revived Ruthman and he is currently in intensive care at a New York hospital.
Friday, November 11, 2011
OK, teammates, this is not complex
66% of out-of-hospital cardiac arrests occur in the home.
Many cardiac arrest are accompanied by intermittent, gasping respirations. That sounds like intermittent, loud snoring.
Fewer than a third of all cardiac arrests benefit from Bystander CPR.
If the person you live with does not know how to perform Bystander CPR, you are ten times more likely to stay dead if you suffer a sudden cardiac arrest, as someone in this country does every 90 seconds.
If the point hasn't escaped you, get your spouse trained in Bystander CPR immediately.
www.slicc.org
PLEASE!
Many cardiac arrest are accompanied by intermittent, gasping respirations. That sounds like intermittent, loud snoring.
Fewer than a third of all cardiac arrests benefit from Bystander CPR.
If the person you live with does not know how to perform Bystander CPR, you are ten times more likely to stay dead if you suffer a sudden cardiac arrest, as someone in this country does every 90 seconds.
If the point hasn't escaped you, get your spouse trained in Bystander CPR immediately.
www.slicc.org
PLEASE!
Farwell teen honored for saving neighbor
Published: Friday, November 11, 2011
By SUSAN FIELD
Clare Managing Editor
Tyler Mester didn’t know the first thing about cardiopulmonary resuscitation when he heard a neighbor’s call for help nearly two weeks ago.
That didn’t stop Tyler, 16, from rushing to his neighbor’s side and calling 911.
Listening to an emergency dispatcher, Tyler, a sophomore at Farwell High School, followed directions on where to place his hands to perform CPR.
Meanwhile, a crew from Mobile Medical Response ambulance service was en route.
Tyler’s actions Oct. 30 likely saved his neighbor’s life, MMR Supervisor Matt Drake said Friday during a Veterans Day assembly at Farwell High School.
After students, teachers and staff paid tribute to those who have fought for America’s freedoms, Drake and other MMR staff took the stage to give Tyler a medal and plaque for his efforts.
“He came to someone in the community in his time of need,” Drake said, adding that Tyler’s actions impacted rescuers and others in the healthcare profession.
Tyler performed chest compressions while paramedics rushed to the scene.
“Tyler did this without being asked,” Drake said. “It’s a pretty important thing for a young person of his age.”
Physician James Inman, medical director of emergency services at MidMichigan Medical Center-Clare, who was on duty when Tyler’s neighbor was rushed to the hospital, also offered praise.
Often times, patients are in full cardiac arrest when arriving at emergency rooms and can’t be helped, Inman said.
There is no question in his mind that Tyler’s neighbor survived because of his efforts and those of MMR paramedics, Inman said.
Tyler was instrumental in saving his neighbor’s life, the physician said.
Without Tyler’s help, paramedics would not have been able to perform their jobs as effectively as they did, Drake said.
Tyler, however, took the attention -- including applause from students and staff -- in stride.
He said he simply did what had to be done and that he was surprised to find out he was being rewarded for his efforts.
Tyler received gifts from MMMC-Clare.
Mary Jo Beal, the emergency operations coordinator at MMMC-Clare, gave Tyler “double congratulations” when she found that he did not know CPR when he helped his neighbor.
Beal offered Tyler lessons and said hospital officials are encouraging more young people to learn CPR.
Tyler is the son of Amy Garver and David Mester.
Tyler Mester didn’t know the first thing about cardiopulmonary resuscitation when he heard a neighbor’s call for help nearly two weeks ago.
That didn’t stop Tyler, 16, from rushing to his neighbor’s side and calling 911.
Listening to an emergency dispatcher, Tyler, a sophomore at Farwell High School, followed directions on where to place his hands to perform CPR.
Meanwhile, a crew from Mobile Medical Response ambulance service was en route.
Tyler’s actions Oct. 30 likely saved his neighbor’s life, MMR Supervisor Matt Drake said Friday during a Veterans Day assembly at Farwell High School.
After students, teachers and staff paid tribute to those who have fought for America’s freedoms, Drake and other MMR staff took the stage to give Tyler a medal and plaque for his efforts.
“He came to someone in the community in his time of need,” Drake said, adding that Tyler’s actions impacted rescuers and others in the healthcare profession.
Tyler performed chest compressions while paramedics rushed to the scene.
“Tyler did this without being asked,” Drake said. “It’s a pretty important thing for a young person of his age.”
Physician James Inman, medical director of emergency services at MidMichigan Medical Center-Clare, who was on duty when Tyler’s neighbor was rushed to the hospital, also offered praise.
Often times, patients are in full cardiac arrest when arriving at emergency rooms and can’t be helped, Inman said.
There is no question in his mind that Tyler’s neighbor survived because of his efforts and those of MMR paramedics, Inman said.
Tyler was instrumental in saving his neighbor’s life, the physician said.
Without Tyler’s help, paramedics would not have been able to perform their jobs as effectively as they did, Drake said.
Tyler, however, took the attention -- including applause from students and staff -- in stride.
He said he simply did what had to be done and that he was surprised to find out he was being rewarded for his efforts.
Tyler received gifts from MMMC-Clare.
Mary Jo Beal, the emergency operations coordinator at MMMC-Clare, gave Tyler “double congratulations” when she found that he did not know CPR when he helped his neighbor.
Beal offered Tyler lessons and said hospital officials are encouraging more young people to learn CPR.
Tyler is the son of Amy Garver and David Mester.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
New lease on life after heart attack [and cardiac arrest]
Published Wednesday November 9, 2011
By Rick Ruggles
WORLD-HERALD STAFF WRITER
« Live Well - Health & MedicineShare
Reina Walls doesn't say she almost died that wintry morning on Jan. 31. She says she did die.
Her colleagues brought her back through quick action, CPR and a device that shocked the heart back into rhythm.
Walls earned an ovation Tuesday night from those at the American Heart Association's Go Red for Women Expo, a fundraiser in La Vista to fight heart disease among women. She considers herself a private person but believes she survived so she could share the message that heart attacks don't always come with chest pain or arm pain.
God "doesn't want you to keep miracles to yourself," Walls said Tuesday in an interview. "I don't think He did all that for me so I could keep it a secret."
The Bellevue woman felt fatigued and short of breath the weekend before it happened. Walls, who has always been slender, had tried to work out that weekend, but the treadmill quickly exhausted her. She missed church the next day at Salem Baptist in northeast Omaha. She thought she had the flu.
After dropping daughter Natalia off at Central High School that Monday morning, she drove through the snow to her job in customer service quality assurance at Metropolitan Utilities District's facility near 61st and Grover Streets. She has worked there for two decades and rarely missed a day.
Bonnie Savine, MUD director of compensation and benefits, heard a commotion and someone saying, "Call 911!" Savine hustled to the scene and saw Reina Walls on the floor.
Savine had taught CPR for about nine years but never had been called on to work on a heart attack victim. She began compressing Walls' chest. Soon, Walls took shallow breaths, which then faded. Savine kept going. Walls breathed shallow breaths again, then, none.
Walls' open eyes stared out and seemed blank. By this time, colleagues had begun to yell: "C'mon, Reina, you can do it!" Some wept. Some prayed.
Someone raced down to the lunchroom and grabbed the automated external defibrillator, a device that jolts the heart. They hooked the two pads to her chest, and the gadget monitored her heart. Then the AED said, "Shock advised."
A colleague pushed the button, and Walls' body visibly responded to the jolt. Savine went back to work, compressing Walls' chest, then stepped back. The AED shocked Walls' heart again.
The Omaha Fire Department's paramedics arrived and took over. They raced her to Bergan Mercy Medical Center. Savine wandered back to her work station. "Did that really just happen?" she wondered.
Doctors put a stent, or tiny metal cage, into a heavily blocked artery that had caused Walls' crisis. Walls survived.
Dr. Atul Ramachandran, Walls' heart specialist, said his patient lucked out because she collapsed in her workplace and not in the car or parking lot. Ramachandran said her colleagues gave invaluable CPR and defibrillation.
"I think it's accurate to say she, quote, died, and they revived her," he said. "She really is fortunate."
Because medical miracles are rarely simple, an addendum to Walls' saga was required in August. She felt bad again and went in to see Ramachandran. She thought the problem was back.
When doctors performed a cardiac catheterization to see how the artery was functioning, they found cells had grown inside the stent, causing further blockage.
Another procedure cleared the artery, and doctors put in another stent, this one coated with a medication to prevent or slow similar cell growth. Ramachandran called Walls' prognosis excellent.
Walls, who will only say she's "over 48" years old, said she's eating more chicken breasts and tilapia, and fewer hot wings and pizza. She hungers to live life fully, shed the stress, make eye contact, give compliments and be kind. Mainly, she said, when you're given a miracle, it's up to you to do something with it.
She quoted a Bible verse: "To whom much is given, much is required."
Contact the writer: 402-444-1123, rick.ruggles@owh.com
Reina Walls doesn't say she almost died that wintry morning on Jan. 31. She says she did die.
Her colleagues brought her back through quick action, CPR and a device that shocked the heart back into rhythm.
Walls earned an ovation Tuesday night from those at the American Heart Association's Go Red for Women Expo, a fundraiser in La Vista to fight heart disease among women. She considers herself a private person but believes she survived so she could share the message that heart attacks don't always come with chest pain or arm pain.
God "doesn't want you to keep miracles to yourself," Walls said Tuesday in an interview. "I don't think He did all that for me so I could keep it a secret."
The Bellevue woman felt fatigued and short of breath the weekend before it happened. Walls, who has always been slender, had tried to work out that weekend, but the treadmill quickly exhausted her. She missed church the next day at Salem Baptist in northeast Omaha. She thought she had the flu.
After dropping daughter Natalia off at Central High School that Monday morning, she drove through the snow to her job in customer service quality assurance at Metropolitan Utilities District's facility near 61st and Grover Streets. She has worked there for two decades and rarely missed a day.
Bonnie Savine, MUD director of compensation and benefits, heard a commotion and someone saying, "Call 911!" Savine hustled to the scene and saw Reina Walls on the floor.
Savine had taught CPR for about nine years but never had been called on to work on a heart attack victim. She began compressing Walls' chest. Soon, Walls took shallow breaths, which then faded. Savine kept going. Walls breathed shallow breaths again, then, none.
Walls' open eyes stared out and seemed blank. By this time, colleagues had begun to yell: "C'mon, Reina, you can do it!" Some wept. Some prayed.
Someone raced down to the lunchroom and grabbed the automated external defibrillator, a device that jolts the heart. They hooked the two pads to her chest, and the gadget monitored her heart. Then the AED said, "Shock advised."
A colleague pushed the button, and Walls' body visibly responded to the jolt. Savine went back to work, compressing Walls' chest, then stepped back. The AED shocked Walls' heart again.
The Omaha Fire Department's paramedics arrived and took over. They raced her to Bergan Mercy Medical Center. Savine wandered back to her work station. "Did that really just happen?" she wondered.
Doctors put a stent, or tiny metal cage, into a heavily blocked artery that had caused Walls' crisis. Walls survived.
Dr. Atul Ramachandran, Walls' heart specialist, said his patient lucked out because she collapsed in her workplace and not in the car or parking lot. Ramachandran said her colleagues gave invaluable CPR and defibrillation.
"I think it's accurate to say she, quote, died, and they revived her," he said. "She really is fortunate."
Because medical miracles are rarely simple, an addendum to Walls' saga was required in August. She felt bad again and went in to see Ramachandran. She thought the problem was back.
When doctors performed a cardiac catheterization to see how the artery was functioning, they found cells had grown inside the stent, causing further blockage.
Another procedure cleared the artery, and doctors put in another stent, this one coated with a medication to prevent or slow similar cell growth. Ramachandran called Walls' prognosis excellent.
Walls, who will only say she's "over 48" years old, said she's eating more chicken breasts and tilapia, and fewer hot wings and pizza. She hungers to live life fully, shed the stress, make eye contact, give compliments and be kind. Mainly, she said, when you're given a miracle, it's up to you to do something with it.
She quoted a Bible verse: "To whom much is given, much is required."
Contact the writer: 402-444-1123, rick.ruggles@owh.com
Runner who died was fit and ready for marathon, wife says
Posted: November 8, 2011 - 9:24pm | Updated: November 8, 2011 - 11:34pm
By Constance Cooper
Cindy Thomas, widow of the 58-year-old runner who died in Saturday’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon, said her husband seemed to be in perfect health heading into the race.
It was Ulysses Thomas’ first marathon, but he’d trained extensively, Cindy Thomas said. He went to the gym, ran or rode his bike every day. “Tom” to his friends and family, Ulysses Thomas finished a 22-mile run while training for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon, according to his wife. He had a complete physical about three months ago, she said, and everything was fine. His body fat percentage was less than 5 percent.
“He was the absolute picture of health.”
Ulysses and Cindy Thomas traveled to Savannah from their home in Mauldin, S.C., for the race. They would’ve been married 28 years Dec. 10.
Ulysses Thomas leaves behind two adult daughters, four grandchildren and six sisters. Originally from Florida, he spent 21 years in the Air Force, retiring in 1993. He was employed as a mechanical technician for Associated Fuel Pump Systems Corporation, in Anderson, S.C., when he died.
Cindy Thomas said her husband put on his Air Force uniform last year, to honor a friend who’d been commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Army. The uniform had been sitting in the closet for 17 years. It still fit.
Chatham County Deputy Coroner Sara Smith said it will be at least two months before a toxicology report from Ulysses Thomas’ autopsy reveals why he collapsed on the Truman Parkway, near Delesseps Avenue, a little before the race’s 23-mile mark.
Cindy Thomas said her husband was running with a friend, a woman who wasn’t as fast as he was. They’d started off with nine-minute miles but slowed down, Cindy Thomas said, at the friend’s request.
“He was not pushing himself at all” Cindy Thomas, 49, said, and never complained that anything was wrong. “... He was capable of running much faster.”
Cindy Thomas was waiting at the 25-mile mark to run the last 1.2 miles of the race with her husband. She expected to meet up with them about 12:30 p.m. Ulysses Thomas and his running partner, whose name his wife declined to give to protect the woman’s privacy, were sending her text messages from the race course, keeping her updated on their progress.
“She thought he’d bent over to adjust his knee brace,” Cindy Thomas said. “She got about two or three steps in front of him, turned to look back, and he just collapsed... He was basically gone. They couldn’t revive him.”
Organizers say that about 19,500 people ran the full or half Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon.
According to a 1996 study published in the Journal of the American College of Cardiology, the risk of dying suddenly in a marathon because of cardiac problems is about 1 in 50,000.
Ulysses Thomas’ death was the third marathon fatality in less than a month.
A 35-year-old North Carolina firefighter died some 500 yards from the finish line on Oct. 9 during the Chicago Marathon.
Then, on Oct. 30, a 37-year-old man collapsed near the finish line of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Los Angeles half-marathon and died a short time later in a hospital.
Ulysses Thomas’ funeral will be held Saturday at 3 p.m. at the Mauldin United Methodist Church, 100 East Butler Road, in Mauldin, S.C. Cindy Thomas is asking that, in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the Greenville Area Interfaith Hospitality Network, P.O. Box 2083, Greenville, SC 29602, www.gaihn.org, or to Triune Mercy Center P.O. Box 3844 Greenville, S.C. 29608, www.triunemercy.org.
Cindy Thomas, widow of the 58-year-old runner who died in Saturday’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon, said her husband seemed to be in perfect health heading into the race.
It was Ulysses Thomas’ first marathon, but he’d trained extensively, Cindy Thomas said. He went to the gym, ran or rode his bike every day. “Tom” to his friends and family, Ulysses Thomas finished a 22-mile run while training for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon, according to his wife. He had a complete physical about three months ago, she said, and everything was fine. His body fat percentage was less than 5 percent.
“He was the absolute picture of health.”
Ulysses and Cindy Thomas traveled to Savannah from their home in Mauldin, S.C., for the race. They would’ve been married 28 years Dec. 10.
Ulysses Thomas leaves behind two adult daughters, four grandchildren and six sisters. Originally from Florida, he spent 21 years in the Air Force, retiring in 1993. He was employed as a mechanical technician for Associated Fuel Pump Systems Corporation, in Anderson, S.C., when he died.
Cindy Thomas said her husband put on his Air Force uniform last year, to honor a friend who’d been commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Army. The uniform had been sitting in the closet for 17 years. It still fit.
Chatham County Deputy Coroner Sara Smith said it will be at least two months before a toxicology report from Ulysses Thomas’ autopsy reveals why he collapsed on the Truman Parkway, near Delesseps Avenue, a little before the race’s 23-mile mark.
Cindy Thomas said her husband was running with a friend, a woman who wasn’t as fast as he was. They’d started off with nine-minute miles but slowed down, Cindy Thomas said, at the friend’s request.
“He was not pushing himself at all” Cindy Thomas, 49, said, and never complained that anything was wrong. “... He was capable of running much faster.”
Cindy Thomas was waiting at the 25-mile mark to run the last 1.2 miles of the race with her husband. She expected to meet up with them about 12:30 p.m. Ulysses Thomas and his running partner, whose name his wife declined to give to protect the woman’s privacy, were sending her text messages from the race course, keeping her updated on their progress.
“She thought he’d bent over to adjust his knee brace,” Cindy Thomas said. “She got about two or three steps in front of him, turned to look back, and he just collapsed... He was basically gone. They couldn’t revive him.”
Organizers say that about 19,500 people ran the full or half Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon.
According to a 1996 study published in the Journal of the American College of Cardiology, the risk of dying suddenly in a marathon because of cardiac problems is about 1 in 50,000.
Ulysses Thomas’ death was the third marathon fatality in less than a month.
A 35-year-old North Carolina firefighter died some 500 yards from the finish line on Oct. 9 during the Chicago Marathon.
Then, on Oct. 30, a 37-year-old man collapsed near the finish line of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Los Angeles half-marathon and died a short time later in a hospital.
Ulysses Thomas’ funeral will be held Saturday at 3 p.m. at the Mauldin United Methodist Church, 100 East Butler Road, in Mauldin, S.C. Cindy Thomas is asking that, in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the Greenville Area Interfaith Hospitality Network, P.O. Box 2083, Greenville, SC 29602, www.gaihn.org, or to Triune Mercy Center P.O. Box 3844 Greenville, S.C. 29608, www.triunemercy.org.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Team effort saves Baltimore half-marathon runner in cardiac arres
By Meredith Cohn, The Baltimore Sun
7:22 p.m. EST, November 8, 2011
Like many veteran marathoners, Bob Pohl always had an eye on the clock.
"I used to tell my wife that if I drop in a race to stop my watch because I don't want to go to the hereafter with a bad time," he said. "The joke was funnier before."
The 55-year-old Marriottsville runner did collapse during a race. He was about 200 feet from the finish line of the Baltimore half-marathon on Oct. 15 when a blockage in a main artery stopped his blood from flowing — and his heart from beating.
Now seconds seriously mattered.
The minutes lost in receiving aid typically make it rare for someone to survive sudden cardiac arrest outside a hospital. But close on Pohl's heels this day were a Baltimore police officer, a Columbia chiropractor, some Howard County paramedic trainees, a Union Memorial Hospital doctor and other medical professionals who swiftly provided CPR, a shock to his chest and a trip to the emergency room.
The speed was part planning and part luck, Pohl learned. Though he didn't open his eyes for days, he is now home recuperating and reflecting for the first time publicly on the time he still has.
"He went from dead to alive in a matter of minutes," said Dr. Cynthia Webb, chief of Union Memorial's emergency room who has been coordinating medical care at the Baltimore Running Festival for three years along with the event organizer, Corrigan Sports Enterprises.
She normally sees cases of cramps, blisters and hyperthermia — not heart attacks. A 2009 American College of Cardiology study found there is less than one death from cardiac arrest per 100,000 people, far better odds than dying in a car accident or from some diseases.
But when there is cardiac arrest, fewer than a third of the victims typically get CPR or defibrillation in the first crucial minutes, and only about 8 percent survive. The condition has claimed the lives of two other runners in the festival's marathons and half-marathons since 2001.
"He was really lucky, not that it happened but where it happened," Webb said. "He could have been alone running in his neighborhood or home watching TV. It couldn't have been in a better place."
Even on the 26.2-mile course, where there are six other medical tents and medical personnel riding bikes among the 25,000 competitors and tens of thousands of spectators, there could be a three- to four-mile gap where help is not available.
As Pohl neared the finish line outside Camden Yards around noon, he dropped to his knees and then fell to the ground. Some other runners stopped to help, including Baltimore Police Lt. Col. Ross Buzzuro. One runner checked for a pulse and another held Pohl's head, said Allen Manison, a chiropractor with special training in emergency and sports medicine, who jumped a fence onto the course.
"It was so impressive those runners stopped their race to help," said Manison, the medical director for the race organizer. He normally tends to the muscles and bones of the elite athletes but immediately recognized Pohl's heart rhythm was irregular. His position, on his back with his arms bent in toward his chest, also was a possible sign of brain damage. Manison called for help.
Howard County paramedic trainees came with a gurney. Within minutes they were inside the tent, with Webb and a team from Union Memorial, Franklin Square and Harbor hospitals and Baltimore City Emergency Medical Services. They took over resuscitation, provided defibrillation and placed a breathing tube down Pohl's throat.
Meanwhile, Webb flipped over the paper that was pinned to Pohl's shirt and displayed his race number, and found his emergency contact. She dialed his wife, Karen, and told her it was serious.
Emergency personnel didn't wait for her to reach the medical tent. Her husband was already in an ambulance en route to the closest hospital with a cardiac specialty, the University of Maryland Medical Center.
Karen Pohl and race officials set out to find her 27-year-old son, Mike, who was also racing and had disappeared into the crowds after running ahead of his father a half-mile from the finish. The father had wanted to keep a slower pace as part of his training for his 15th Marine Corps Marathon.
She found her son pacing beyond the finish line. He'd seen a commotion and thought his father was stuck behind it. A police officer took them to the hospital.
"We weren't promised he'd make it," she said of the agonizing first few minutes at the hospital. "It was amazing circumstances. He had such a swarm of angels over him."
The Maryland doctors suspected a heart attack and moved immediately to cool Pohl's body to delay the chemical reaction that causes injury to organs when the blood supply is cut off. Without therapeutic hyperthermia, "you can get the heart back but the brain never recovers," said Dr. Michael D. Witting, an emergency department physician.
Copyright © 2011, The Baltimore Sun
"I used to tell my wife that if I drop in a race to stop my watch because I don't want to go to the hereafter with a bad time," he said. "The joke was funnier before."
The 55-year-old Marriottsville runner did collapse during a race. He was about 200 feet from the finish line of the Baltimore half-marathon on Oct. 15 when a blockage in a main artery stopped his blood from flowing — and his heart from beating.
Now seconds seriously mattered.
The minutes lost in receiving aid typically make it rare for someone to survive sudden cardiac arrest outside a hospital. But close on Pohl's heels this day were a Baltimore police officer, a Columbia chiropractor, some Howard County paramedic trainees, a Union Memorial Hospital doctor and other medical professionals who swiftly provided CPR, a shock to his chest and a trip to the emergency room.
The speed was part planning and part luck, Pohl learned. Though he didn't open his eyes for days, he is now home recuperating and reflecting for the first time publicly on the time he still has.
"He went from dead to alive in a matter of minutes," said Dr. Cynthia Webb, chief of Union Memorial's emergency room who has been coordinating medical care at the Baltimore Running Festival for three years along with the event organizer, Corrigan Sports Enterprises.
She normally sees cases of cramps, blisters and hyperthermia — not heart attacks. A 2009 American College of Cardiology study found there is less than one death from cardiac arrest per 100,000 people, far better odds than dying in a car accident or from some diseases.
But when there is cardiac arrest, fewer than a third of the victims typically get CPR or defibrillation in the first crucial minutes, and only about 8 percent survive. The condition has claimed the lives of two other runners in the festival's marathons and half-marathons since 2001.
"He was really lucky, not that it happened but where it happened," Webb said. "He could have been alone running in his neighborhood or home watching TV. It couldn't have been in a better place."
Even on the 26.2-mile course, where there are six other medical tents and medical personnel riding bikes among the 25,000 competitors and tens of thousands of spectators, there could be a three- to four-mile gap where help is not available.
As Pohl neared the finish line outside Camden Yards around noon, he dropped to his knees and then fell to the ground. Some other runners stopped to help, including Baltimore Police Lt. Col. Ross Buzzuro. One runner checked for a pulse and another held Pohl's head, said Allen Manison, a chiropractor with special training in emergency and sports medicine, who jumped a fence onto the course.
"It was so impressive those runners stopped their race to help," said Manison, the medical director for the race organizer. He normally tends to the muscles and bones of the elite athletes but immediately recognized Pohl's heart rhythm was irregular. His position, on his back with his arms bent in toward his chest, also was a possible sign of brain damage. Manison called for help.
Howard County paramedic trainees came with a gurney. Within minutes they were inside the tent, with Webb and a team from Union Memorial, Franklin Square and Harbor hospitals and Baltimore City Emergency Medical Services. They took over resuscitation, provided defibrillation and placed a breathing tube down Pohl's throat.
Meanwhile, Webb flipped over the paper that was pinned to Pohl's shirt and displayed his race number, and found his emergency contact. She dialed his wife, Karen, and told her it was serious.
Emergency personnel didn't wait for her to reach the medical tent. Her husband was already in an ambulance en route to the closest hospital with a cardiac specialty, the University of Maryland Medical Center.
Karen Pohl and race officials set out to find her 27-year-old son, Mike, who was also racing and had disappeared into the crowds after running ahead of his father a half-mile from the finish. The father had wanted to keep a slower pace as part of his training for his 15th Marine Corps Marathon.
She found her son pacing beyond the finish line. He'd seen a commotion and thought his father was stuck behind it. A police officer took them to the hospital.
"We weren't promised he'd make it," she said of the agonizing first few minutes at the hospital. "It was amazing circumstances. He had such a swarm of angels over him."
The Maryland doctors suspected a heart attack and moved immediately to cool Pohl's body to delay the chemical reaction that causes injury to organs when the blood supply is cut off. Without therapeutic hyperthermia, "you can get the heart back but the brain never recovers," said Dr. Michael D. Witting, an emergency department physician.
Copyright © 2011, The Baltimore Sun
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