While sleeping on a redeye last Sunday night, I was woken up by a heave. The lady across the aisle from me looked to be having a nightmare in her sleep at first look. It happened again, but this time her body sunk in the seat, her head dropped off to the side with her mouth open. I first called out to her, then tapped her arm, then her face, but she was unresponsive all the while her face looked as pale as I have ever seen one. It was getting more evident by the second that she was unconscious and her body was forcing itself to breathe with the heaves. I alerted the stewardess and stepped back while they involved a couple of EMTs on board, and with the help of that portable oxygen tank you see in the first overhead cabin, they first had her come to consciousness. The lady hadn’t realised what had happened but then start responding to a barrage of questions from the stewardess, who I presume was making an evaluation to see if the aircraft had to land for this medical emergency. They had her drink some ginger ale while the EMT tried to take BP/Pulse. The EMT mentioned that it was tough for her to take an accurate pulse reading because of the aircraft noise, something that I’d never have imagined would be an issue. Slowly but surely the lady’s condition improved and in due time they got her off the tank, and her face had done an about turn. The flight landed, and she was all set to deplane on her own. She thanked me for alerting the emergency. Barrons teaches you some obscure words, but if there ever was a face to depict sanguine, it was hers right then.
At this point, I stepped out of the plane, but Amma called me to give me the news of Atthai’s passing. It was around the same time that I’d woken up on the flight at the start of the story. She’d been battling the aftermath of tumour treatments and had been in hospice care at home for about a year.
I sat down in an eatery to compose myself but started thinking about all that had just transpired on the flight. I typically take redeye flights so that I can sleep through and I always do sleep through. Don’t wake up for anything but the landing.
For the most part of my late teens, we’d been dealing with Appa and Thaatha’s cardiac issues, which meant late night attendant duties. These times had gotten so ingrained in us, that we’d always be on the lookout for breathing irregularities whenever they were asleep. There wasn’t any fear associated with that check, it was always routine, and we did catch it early sometimes to call attention early enough.
Over the past decade, I had completely forgotten that this was something I did day in day out for close to a decade before that. It was only after R was born, during his first week’s stay in the hospital, that that memory was rekindled. This night was another one where the training kicked in.
Then my thoughts switched to the stewardesses. There they are serving drinks all day primarily, but when medical events such as this occur, they are drawing from their training to get everything in line. And boy did they get it right. It was quite an experience watching professionals do what they do under pressure, but it just shows how vital training procedures must be.
It’s been a week since, I’ve gotten to talk to a lot of the extended family, assimilate the feelings and get some perspective. The coincidence is still perplexing, in spite of all the rationalities and the memory of that face still haunts me.
The Way I Was 