I went through something this past Friday that I have wanted to blog about but I simply couldn’t find the words. While I was sitting in Circuit Court waiting to be called as a witness in a traffic accident appeal, people sitting behind me began yelling for help. I looked to see a man seated in the back of the courtroom having what appeared to be a seizure of some sort. The man who had been sitting next to him was trying to help the sick man from his chair onto the floor. There was a lot of hustle and bustle in the courtroom as folks rushed here and there but it seemed that everyone was stunned by what was happening and didn’t know what to do or how to help the sick man.
I headed over to him and the guy who was trying to help him. Still believing it to be a seizure, people were giving the man a wide berth while the other guy was trying to hold his head to keep him from hurting himself any further. As I knelt down beside the sick man, I felt like something was terribly wrong. The man was trying to breathe but couldn’t…his eyes were wide open but not focusing on anything or anyone…I touched his wrist…he had no pulse. HE HAD NO PULSE.
I checked for any medic alert bracelets (there were none) and sent for the automatic defibrillator. We hooked him up and shocked him. Still no pulse. Eyes still wide open…still not focusing on anything. A deputy who had knelt down to help started CPR. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…two breaths…no pulse. More chest compressions. More breaths. No pulse.
The ambulance crew came in and took over. More chest compressions. I got his wallet from his pocket. More breaths. His ID said he was only 45 years old. Charging to 300. He lost his bladder. Shock. Push an amp of epi. He lost his bowels. No pulse. No pulse. No pulse. Ricky Beale died.
A room full of people who didn’t know him but tried so hard to save him felt the sorrow of his passing. We all became enmeshed in the death of Ricky Beale even though we knew nothing of the life of Ricky Beale.
I don’t know whether or not he was a good man. Did he have a wife or kids? Was he good to his Mama? I don’t know. But I was there for his death and I will never forget the day Ricky Beale died.