What I learned on Saturday Night

We attended a beautiful wedding on Saturday night. The time was 7 PM -- so, of course, there are rules about what one should wear (it was not black tie). As a person who doesn't particularly like to "dress up" -- and who owns very few things that would be considered even slightly dressy -- it can be an issue to figure out what to wear and when to wear it. Of course, every time I've ever fretted about it, it's been useless -- at this wedding -- as most others I've attended -- there was no clear consensus about what should have been worn. A few women wore sparkly ensembles, some wore the little black dress, most had on what you might wear to a church service. I could only roll my eyes -- at myself -- for even taking time to worry about it. I could have used that time to agonize over something completely different.

Like the wreck my son was involved in, in Atlanta, a week or so ago. He walked away and so did the other people. Praise God from whom all blessings flow. And, thanks again to God, we happened to be in Atlanta at the time.

Or my big dog who somehow, freakishly, broke his "shoulder" -- an injury that usually isn't seen unless the animal has been hit by a car (he was not) or because of something even more sinister -- a tumor. Happily, there is no tumor so he is just a freak. Still, he is not completely out of the woods -- the nerve which operates the (front) leg, was not severed but it may not work again. He has some movement in that leg -- and he is getting around just fine on three legs -- but, if he can't eventually put that foot down and use it, it may well mean amputation. Time will tell. But he is alive and, otherwise, well.

Back to the wedding -- after the nuptials, we headed off to the reception which was being held downtown. We ate, we talked, we watched the newlyweds dance. But, not long into the festivities, a man collapsed -- and turned completely blue. As you can imagine, everything came to a grinding halt.  The singer in the band began calling for a "doctor in the house."

Well, it's his training, I suppose, that makes him just act but Mark (we were only a few yards away because we'd chosen to go to the food table on the left) sprang into action and reached the man first. Another doctor -- a cardiologist -- followed, along with a couple of nurses. So, a man who was not breathing, had a cardiologist and an anesthesiologist working on him immediately.

I've never seen CPR done in person. It is a most violent act. The protocols for CPR no longer include "mouth to mouth" resuscitation but, after the man did not begin breathing, Mark did it, anyway. Now, I'm not going to give all credit to my husband -- it may well have been that the combination of activities around this man contributed to his rescue -- but, once Mark did that, he started breathing again.

Of course, the speculation going around was that this man had had a massive heart attack -- he had not -- he probably wouldn't have come back from that, no matter what -- and his pulse was strong the whole time. The problem was that he lost his airway -- and if you lose your airway, you don't breathe. And, if you don't breathe, you die. 

When the man "came back", he had no idea what had happened. Mark told him he was going to the hospital and he asked, "why?"  He is still in the hospital today -- they are doing a myriad of tests -- he has already "passed" all of the heart ones. They may never find a cause -- though Mark believes, considering he was eating at the time, that he probably choked on a piece of food. And, by the way, if someone has already collapsed, you don't stand them up to do anything to them -- including the Heimlich. If there are medical people present, don't holler out what you think ought to be done because it's usually wrong and could do more harm than good. And it really irritates -- and might distract -- the people who do know what they are doing.

Anyway, I'm not writing this to call my husband a hero -- in his mind, he just did what every doctor knows how to do (though if you are having a respiratory episode like this, an anesthesiologist is probably the guy you want most). I'm actually writing this for another reason.

And that is this:

What possible difference does it make what you wear to a wedding?

It doesn't.

Personally, I don't think, unless I'm a part of the wedding party, that I'll ever give it more than a passing thought (such as, is what I want to wear clean?) ever again.

And that's what I learned on Saturday night.