In case of emergency, don’t call me

It is a well-established fact that I’m not good in emergencies.

I have many examples throughout my life, to which my family has been witness. The first that comes to mind is when my dad was choking on water trying to swallow a big pill, and my brother, who was in med school at the time, did the Heimlich.

Dad was fine. I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I had called 911 and screamed out the address, but then my dad was OK.

I started hyperventilating, and I ended up breathing into a paper bag.

When Dad had to go to the emergency room a few months ago, my mother called and calmly — but urgently — told me. I hysterically asked to speak to him and screamed what I thought might be my last I love yous. Last I saw him, he was baking a blackberry cobbler, and we talked on the phone the other night. Crisis averted.

It doesn’t really matter if it’s human or animal; I panic. On a walk on a nice cool night last week, I had our little dog, Rudy, on a retractable leash. Usually, my husband is in charge of him. When we met a woman walking her Lab puppy, Rudy, as usual, wanted to make friends. He took off, and the leash kept going. I just dropped — basically threw my hands up in the air — the leash on the ground, and Rudy ran over as the handle spun around on the ground and the woman tried to disentangle him, herself and her dog.

My husband asked why I thought that was a good idea to let go of the leash, and I didn’t have a good answer.

“You know how I panic,” I said.

Apparently, my 5-year-old nephew inherited my inability to deal with traumatic situations.

When we got home from the walk, I had a text from my brother. My sweet 1-year-old nephew had “face-planted,” and his nose started bleeding. In case anyone has forgotten, by brother is an ear, NOSE and throat doctor.

My sweet, softhearted 5-year-old nephew FREAKED out, my brother wrote in his text. “He was truly scared, bless his heart. He kept yelling, ‘We need a doctor! We need a doctor!’ Later, as we were debriefing the incident after everything calmed down, he explained that he thought we just needed an EXTRA doctor.”

I’m still laughing about that one.

My brother said he could see the wheels turning — my nephew was trying to be diplomatic and not hurt his daddy’s feelings. Either that or, in his blind panic, he forgot that his daddy IS a doctor.

My brother was sensitive and kindhearted like that as a little boy, too (not that he isn’t now, but he had to toughen up). I don’t remember him panicking in emergency situations, though. Once he broke his wrist when he fell off a tire swing or something. I remember my mother being concerned, but calm. I still remember how I wanted to run down the street screaming, and that was about 33 years ago.

I texted my brother the next night to ask how my little nephew’s nose was, and my brother said great. Until he fell again and scratched the top of his nose a little bit.

The real question, I said, was how was his big brother? He was fine, my brother said. “He had some immediate panic in his eyes. Is it bleeding? We quickly diffused the situation and prevented the

nuclear, dad-choking-on-water-Tammy-hyperventilating disaster from the previous night.”

Not only do some of us in the family have a little problem with handling emergencies; others never let us forget it.

Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.

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