Uhh... thank you all. This thread is quite a surprise.
I'm actually not feeling guilty. I know I did all I could, but that doesn't make the outcome any easier, particularly since I ended up driving the hysterical family to the (wrong) hospital, complete with the screaming ten year old that feels responsible for the death of her brother. I can't really describe what I am feeling, but it's sort of an irritable depression. I took a long bike ride to try to alleviate it today, only to discover that someone stuck a circus in the middle of the American River Bike Trail, naturally full of children. What city has circuses anymore??
I'm certed as an EMT, but haven't worked as one, thus this is the first time I've done CPR on a real person, and I hate that it was a 3 year old, and I hate that he didn't make it, and I hate that he didn't make it in front of his fully hysterical family members. I initially took over the breathing due to the person there not having CPR training (though doing a damn good job on the instruction of her husband) while her husband (who had minimal training) did compressions until my mother came up (having no knowledge I was there), swapped to the breathing, and I took compressions. All in all, if nothing else, I know that I am surrounded by compassionate and caring neighbors. It took quite a while to direct the fire department to the complex because no one could be heard above the mother, during which time we gathered quite a crowd who, once given simple directions to not stand around crying, quickly moved cars out of the way to allow access by the ambulance, tried to control and console the mother and assorted children, shed clothes to donate to cleaning the child's mouth to preserve his airway, and so forth.
When I did my initial check upon taking over, I felt him breathe for half a second. Through the course of CPR, we got a pulse back no less than 3 times, but quickly lost it again. I'm aware that CPR only has a 30% success rate by itself, but was hoping the efforts of everyone could keep him oxygenated long enough to effectively shock him. When the paramedics got there, they had a very fine vfib close to asystoly, but on the ambulance, I would suspect (since he lived for 48 hours with his own heartbeat), was administered drugs that got him into a shockable rhythm.
This was particularly hard because while, when doing the CPR, I expected him to die, after he made it the first 24 hours at the hospital, I really started to feel like he was going to make it, and after 48, felt he was coming out of the woods. When I found out they lost him, it was devastating, and remains devastating. The family has invited us to the graveside service, which I am profoundly *not* looking forward to.
It was a stupid accident that took place extremely quickly. I think if he'd have fallen into the pool instead of the hot tub, he'd have made it, and it amazed me how fast the events took place, and how calm I was while doing the CPR (and fell apart later, of course). I appreciate all the sentiments, but I don't feel any heroics at all. Initially doing the CPR felt like... I had the skills to perform a task so I performed the task. I did CPR because I know how to do CPR. I set up scuba equipment because I know how to set up scuba equipment. The mindset was that simplistic.
I just really wish the little guy had made it. And I can't stop thinking about his big sister. From what the neighbor's say, she was sort of his "little mother" and charged herself with being responsible for him, despite being 10 years old. Sigh. The news didn't help at all, implying that they had accessed the pool illegally because the lock was drilled, despite the fact that they live in the complex.
Thank you for all your support. I really appreciate it. This is really hard on me. I can't seem to stop thinking about it.
