Life is precious: Appreciate every meticulous snowflake, and learn CPR

March 8, 2005

Spectrum/Denise Durman

There's a new covering of fresh snow today, the light and fluffy wonderment that covers every little branch on the trees. It's like a new beginning for us, somehow. Meanwhile a neighbor's home is filled with grief and sadness, having suffered a terrible loss that will be felt with every snowflake that falls for a very long time.

It's another weird winter for us Valley folks. January was good for ice skating on marshes, but not good for walkways and driveways.

When February arrived, the added daylight was obvious and we could all feel the winter season winding down. Our thoughts begin to slip forward into spring and early planting for our gardens.

But as we wish for future warmth, are we taking these days for granted? Of course we are. That fact that we wake up breathing is, in itself, a miracle. It's human nature to forget to smell the roses in the everyday humdrum life. Our neighbor's tragedy weighs heavy on our mind today, and we are grateful to the heart for every beautiful thing around us. How sad that another's sorrow is what awakens us from our winter blahs.

Today, still feeling shock of being involved in our neighbor's loss, we are glad that we can feel that we did all we could do to help save his life. It could have been different for everyone if Marty, my soul mate and life companion, had not just taken a CPR class a few weeks ago.

To look back and think that we may have been helplessly void of the fresh knowledge from the recent CPR class, coupled with the training and courage for quick action by Marty in this emergency situation. The system worked just as it was supposed to, except our neighbor's condition was so grave.

We feel that perhaps the CPR at least extended his time so that his wife could race home to his side and hold his hand, and say good-bye. His children could be at home together when they found out their father had lost his fight for life right in front of their house, on a beautiful snowy afternoon.

He was shoveling the new snow and chopping the ice away from his driveway, as he had done so many times before, when it appears he had a massive heart attack.

We noticed him lying at the edge of the road as we passed. One daughter was at home, but didn't notice he was down. I'll never forget the look on her sweet little face as I seemed to burst into their kitchen looking for a phone to call 911 while Marty started the CPR. Her father was only 53 years old.

It is a normal, new, snow-in-the-Valley kind of day for most of us. But the fact that it all could be gone in a second is the underlying appreciation we feel today.

I remember that Marty didn't especially want to spend eight hours in Anchorage on a Saturday to take the CPR class a few weeks ago. Marty is a union carpenter foreman with Local 1281 in Anchorage and the class is a requirement.

Now he is so glad he was ready to do the best anyone can to help another. I realize how important this is, now more than ever. We're so sad for the mourning loved ones our neighbor leaves behind. Our hearts will ache forever that we couldn't save him. But it seems tragedy has its own time.

We understand that everything we have done in our lives had to happen just as it did to put us exactly where we were when he needed us to help him.

We were on our way home from helping some friends. The trip to drop off some material for one friend's project and repair another friend's thermostat was supposed to have taken place the day before, but the wacky weather warmup that day made our driveway even more slippery than before and we slid off to one side, which stranded us at our cabin until some friends came to our rescue to give us a pullout later that evening.

That delay, the delay with the chains that got stuck and wouldn't come off, then had to be put back on again, the extra drive around just for a look on a beautiful snowy day, the coffee stop at the Fishhook Cafe to visit friends. It all led to where we are now, feeling sad, yet grateful to be alive and feeling a peace that comes from doing the best you can.

It could happen to any one of us at any time, without warning. We forget how precious life is in every moment until we are forced by life itself to face the inevitable end waiting for us all.

We all want to be able to look back and feel we did our best. I want to be prepared to do my best for another. Never before have I really had to face how important it is to know the CPR process and practice it to be ready.

We live in a harsh environment. It takes longer for everything to happen in Alaska, except for life. Life seems to pick up speed as it clicks along. To make the best of it we have to remember to smell the roses, enjoy the ride and be prepared for when things go south.

The American Red Cross offers CPR classes in Wasilla on a regular basis, for a nominal fee. This is a gift we can give ourselves and hope we never have to use it. But the knowledge and self confidence Marty displayed was a programmed response since his CPR class.

Every one of us should have this information and instruction before we have a chance to regret we couldn't help another.

The 911 operator was very helpful and professional. The local paramedics were a welcome sight and also very professional. We had high hopes that there would be a recovery of weak vital signs and shallow breathing once equipment arrived on the scene.

The only regret for anyone involved is that no matter how hard we all tried, we couldn't save our neighbor's life. We so wish he could enjoy his family, friends, work and the simplicity of a new snowfall.

May his family find the strength to bear their sorrow and find peace in their hearts as we go into spring. We pray that one day they will be able to enjoy a new snow again, as before. It shouldn't be, but sometimes it is difficult to forgive nature's ways. It can be hard to forgive a snowflake for falling. Hard to accept what comes, even if we've done all we can.

So, the next time you get a chance, catch a snowflake in flight and look closely at how beautiful and magic a frozen raindrop can be. Smile and wave at your neighbors. And, take a CPR class if you can.

Denise Durman is a Wasilla-area resident.