Blog # 11 – Timing Is Everything

Sep 23, 2019 · 14 min read –

1:04 pm, Tuesday, August 27, 2019. It started with this: I bought a $5 bike bell during my lunch break.

5:34 pm, Tuesday, August 27. I got in my car and headed home. It was a typical Tuesday and I was planning to get in a quick mountain bike ride before dark. Only a few more weeks before it would be too dark for mid-week rides. So time was of the essence.

At home, I changed clothes and gathered my biking accoutrements. I was going to ride my old single speed tonight and had bought the bell to mount on the handlebar, since this bike didn’t have one. Better to “ding” while on the bike trail to warn other bikers and hikers of my presence rather than yelling. Trail etiquette is important.

6:03 pm, Tuesday. Started my beater truck with my bike on the rack and headed to the trail head for Whiting Ranch Park. I was looking forward to leaving work stress behind and expend some energy and sweat and have some fun. I hit a red light. Then another. And another. As I pulled in to park, I grumbled to myself that I’d hit every red light. What are the chances of that? I hurriedly got ready to roll.

6:27 pm, Tuesday. Wheels down and I started my GPS to log my ride. Down Portola Parkway and then to Borrego Trail and into the Park. Hit Mustard trail and went left to get some steep climbing on a little loop called Cattle Pond. Single speeders are gluttons for (what we call) sssssssuffering. I came flying down the hill and went down and up the dip to the flat area near some picnic benches. I saw several people on the ground huddling around someone.

“He is not only a God of perfect time, but of perfect timing.” — Beth Moore

6:44 pm, Tuesday. I slowed to a stop. “Do you know CPR?” the lady asked.“Sort of, yes”, I responded. I’d had some basic training years ago. She then asked if I was a doctor. I responded “No, but my son in law is. Too bad he’s in another state”.

“…twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty!” said the guy on the ground with a phone in his hand. The lady blew into the man’s mouth that was lying on the ground.

A bike rider continued to do chest compressions, in sets of thirty. Then she blew another 2 breaths into the downed man’s lungs.

6:48 pm, Tuesday. “Say, do you need to take a break?” I asked the man giving the chest compressions. After the next set, I took over. The man with the phone was keeping the count, then the next breaths were given. The 911 operator on the phone told us to stop compressions and check to see if he was breathing on his own. I stopped and the man took a difficult breath. His veins on his neck bulged. Then he started coughing up stuff. “Turn his head so he doesn’t choke” I yelled. A few more sets, with my arms and shoulders fatigued, I then turned the compression duty over to my new companion.

6:56 pm, Tuesday. A Sheriff’s helicopter arrived. It began to circle, looking for a place to land. Meanwhile, other hikers and bikers began to congregate around our little group.

7:01 pm, Tuesday. “A medical helicopter is on its way. It’ll be here in 3 minutes” bellowed the helicopter bullhorn from about 100 feet up. I took over doing compressions. “Stop. Is he breathing?” asked the 911 operator that was on the speakerphone. I stopped. He breathed once. I resumed compressions. “Where is that bird!? It’s been 4 minutes!!” I exclaimed.

7:05 pm, Tuesday. The red Cal Fire helicopter began to circle, along with the Sheriff’s helicopter. Finding a good spot about 100 feet away up Mustard trail, paramedics began a harrowing descent on a rope.

7:10 pm, Tuesday. The first paramedic hit the ground, at the same time as the ground crew arrived in a motorized vehicle. The park ranger and 2 firemen started to unload their gear. They took over with CPR and gave him an IV. I moved away, as more and more paramedics and firemen showed up. Soon there were about 8 or 10 law enforcement and related folks there.

7:14 pm, Tuesday. I surveyed the scene. All attention was on the man on the ground as people huddled around him and there were boxes of equipment scattered about. I noticed the lady standing nearby. I went over to her and gave her a hug. “I heard you say something about asking God for help while we were giving CPR. Are you a Believer?” I asked. “Yes I am, and so is he.” She said. “Well, I’ve been praying for you and for him and will continue to do so.” I responded. “Thank you. Thank you so much”. She asked me my name and told me her husband’s name was Jeff and she was Laura, his wife. I stepped away to give her some space.

7:17 pm, Tuesday. I texted several guys in my Men’s group: “At Whiting Ranch. Just gave CPR. Paramedics here. Please pray for Jeff V. Thanks.”

7:24 pm, Tuesday. Laura came near where I was and I went up to her again and put my arm around her. I shared I’d just texted some of my guys to keep Jeff in prayer during this ordeal, and asked her how she was doing. “Well, he has respiratory issues and I keep telling him we need to slow down. We’d stopped for a planned 5 minute rest, when he collapsed”. I responded by telling her it was in God’s hands and that many were praying for her and him.

7:27 pm, Tuesday. The Sheriff told us to move away as the helicopter descended and dropped a rope. A basket followed, and Jeff was carried over to the basket to be winched up. Sand and wind was blowing at 80 mph all around us. I huddled behind a tree waiting for the sand storm to be over.

7:31 pm, Tuesday. The chopper was fading from sight and I gathered up my bike. All the other hikers and bikers started to head home. I saw Laura and asked if she could text me Jeff’s condition. I gave her my cell phone number and pedaled away.

7:36 pm, Tuesday. Heather, a work colleague, lives near the hospital and is in the flight path for incoming helicopters. For some reason, she felt moved to go outside on the balcony to watch one fly to the heliport at Mission Hospital. A few moments later, she wandered back inside to finish washing her dishes.

8:01 pm, Tuesday. I arrived at my truck in complete darkness. I had decided to finish my ride in the dark. Bad call on my part. Less concerned about crashing, was the fear of being dinner for the local mountain lion. Dusk and nighttime is prime chow time for mountain lions. “God’s angel protected me, I hope He protected Jeff at the hospital.” I thought to myself.

8:15 pm, Tuesday. I pulled up to my friend Tim’s house. As usual he was in his garage doing emails. He’d gotten my text and I wanted to tell him about the incident, the guys coming down the ropes and all the details. Suddenly, about 15 people came running out of his house into his front yard. “What’s going on?” I inquired. “Oh, we are doing a little memorial for my son with a bunch of his friends. They’re releasing biodegradable balloons with messages and remembrances for him”. I then recalled that he’d mentioned something about this. Tim’s son, at the age of 17 had tragically taken his own life 2 years earlier right where we were standing. “Tim, I’m so sorry for interrupting this solemn event. I didn’t mean to crash it. Let me get out of here so you guys can finish this memorial event for him.” “No, no.” he said. “God brought you to Whiting Ranch for a reason and he brought you here for a reason.” He ran outside and told everyone to hold on for a minute and not release the balloons. “Do you want to release a balloon for Jeff?” he asked. “Sure”. He ran inside. His wife asked me what had happened, so I shared briefly about the man who’d collapsed and the CPR, helicopters and so on. Tim returned and I asked him to write a prayer on the tag for the balloon. A few moments later 15 balloons were released in honor of his son, and 1 for Jeff, who was hopefully recuperating in the hospital.

10:15 pm, Tuesday. Lights out and tried to sleep.

12:26 am, Wednesday. My son showed up at the front door from Santa Barbara. I got out of bed. He was heading out for a camping trip with a friend and was going to sleep at our house. I shared with him the highlights of the CPR incident. “Gotta keep your arms totally stiff, Dad. Use your back for the compressions. That’s why you got so tired. I’m CPR Certified.” I’d apparently not completely locked my arms that afternoon. Thanks, Son.

Around 3 am, Wednesday. I think I fell asleep, though fitfully. It had been an emotional evening and night and I kept going through everything in my mind.

7:44 am, Wednesday. Heather arrived at work and I told her about my evening’s adventures. She mentioned going outside the evening before when she heard a helicopter. “Was it a bit after 7:30 last night?” I asked. “Was it red?” She nodded. “That was the same helicopter with Jeff V. in it.”

8:30 am, Wednesday. I went to our HR director and suggested we engage the Red Cross to come in for a “Lunch and Learn” session for CPR training. This had been my 2nd experience at Whiting Ranch in the past 7 months where someone had experienced a heart attack a few minutes ahead of me on the trail. Fortunately he’d survived. One never knows when they may need it.

3:47 pm, Wednesday. Sitting in a meeting, I felt my phone vibrate. After my meeting, I checked my voice message. It was Laura thanking me for helping out with the CPR but letting me know Jeff was pronounced dead at 7:38 pm Tuesday. Presumably at arrival at the hospital.

4:02 pm, Wednesday. I called Laura. We talked about the timing of events. She didn’t think 45 minutes had elapsed from his collapse to when he went away in the helicopter. I said I’d download my Garmin GPS that evening and let her know when I arrived and when I’d left to finish my ride. I told her she’d been inspirational to me with her faith and stoicism as she didn’t even know who I was and was talking to me a mere 20 hours or so after her husband had passed away. I shared how I almost made up a quote about her to share in my monthly client meeting but had run out of time to make the switch. Each month the meeting starts with a quote and this month’s topic was optimism. She’d been so strong and so optimistic during the ordeal. I asked her for the date and time of the memorial service, as I felt I may want to go. She shared how she appreciated the twenty or so folks that stayed till the very end, with darkness falling and enduring the windstorm from the helicopter. We ended the call. My mind was reeling.

“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.” James 1:12

4:24 pm, Wednesday. I dialed Tim’s number. “Hey!” he answered. “Tim!” I responded. “He’s dead” he said. “Yeah, I just talked to Laura, his wife, and he passed away when he got to the hospital. What a bummer.” We talked about my conversation with Laura. How Laura had been a total rock during the incident. How she’d been all business, and wasn’t hysterical or crying or freaking out, but rather was solid in the face of adversity doing all she could for her husband. I shared how I was surprised at the fact she’d called me, and not texted me, and how we’d talked for so long so soon after his passing. “You were there for a reason” he said. After some more discussion, he interjected “Say, you never asked me how I knew Jeff had passed away”. “Well”, I responded, “you had a 50–50 chance of being right with your guess. Or, maybe more so by the fact I called you instead of texted you.” “No”, he responded. “Do you remember the lady at the balloon release last night? Well, she’s friends with someone whose husband worked with Jeff, so that’s how I found out.” Talk about 6 degrees of separation!

5:42 pm, Wednesday. I walked into the bike store with my bell. I saw the owner and held it out for him to see. “Remember me?” He nodded. “Missing screw, right?” he responded. “It happens occasionally where it falls out. Just grab another one from the basket.” I returned to my truck. Then it dawned on me. I’d spent 3 minutes looking for a replacement screw for the bell. I’d hit every red light driving to the trailhead. I’d departed at 6:27 pm, 7 minutes later than normal. Jeff and Laura had stopped at 6:36 to rest, and Jeff had collapsed at around 6:38 pm. I’d arrived at 6:44 pm. A few green lights or not messing around with the bell, at 6:38 pm I’d have been a minute or two up the trail and completely missed Laura and Jeff.

4:23 pm, Friday. “Heather, if you’re going to the post office, please make sure this card makes it in today’s mail. It’s a sympathy card for Laura.” “Sure thing. I’ll make sure it goes out today” she responded. It wasn’t much, but maybe the card will help just a little.

“And you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” 2 Peter 1:11

9:54 am, Tuesday, September 10. Memorial service for Jeff V., Tent 3, Saddleback Church. I signed in and sat down in the last row. The place probably held six or seven hundred people and it was three quarters full. Laura strode down the aisle, so I got up and approached her. “Hi Laura, remember me? I helped with CPR”. “Oh yes, I didn’t recognize you all dressed up”. I allegedly clean up pretty well. I was wearing a suit with my funeral tie; white doves on a black background. She looked calm, strong, and confident. She moved on to talk to other folks. I sat back down.

10:03 am, Tuesday. A gentleman sat next to me. I asked him how he knew Jeff. He’d known him for years, ridden with him countless times, and been his neighbor. He asked me what my connection was. I told him I didn’t know Jeff, nor had ever met him. However, I was one of the last people to have been with him before he died. I mentioned I was one of the folks that had done CPR on him. He started to respond. Then the music started.

10:07 am, Tuesday. The service started. It was the first time I’ve attended a memorial service and didn’t know the deceased, nor had a long-term relationship with a living family member. Jeff V. was an amazing individual as I found out. Loving, kind, hard working, generous, competitive and living life to the fullest. He was very active with biking, hiking, kayaking, and paddle boarding. His company had over 40 associates there and one of the speakers was his boss, who spoke very highly of him. He loved everyone and was loved by everyone, it was clear. He was a man of strong faith in Christ, and he lived his faith with openness and boldness. Everyone wanted to be friends with Jeff. I sat through the service seeing the photos and videos of his life of almost 60 years scroll through in a matter of minutes. While the audio/visual folks made a great effort to portray his life in a few hundred photographs, it truly is impossible to capture the positive impact this person had on those around him. I felt strange being there, not having a formal claim of a relationship with him or Laura. Unlike everyone else there, I didn’t know him. I’d never met him nor talked to him even for a minute. The remembrances and stories shared revealed a great human being that had been taken from us too soon. The pastor reminded us all of the frailty of life and to make our time count. Very appropo, having been front and center during his last hour of life.

“That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither — whatever they do prospers.” Psalms 1:3

11:38 am, Tuesday. I finished my conversation with Jeff’s neighbor outside, as the service had ended. I saw a few mountain bikers I knew and talked with them and shared how I’d come to be here for the service. I also discovered I was probably the only mountain biker in Orange County that had never ridden with Jeff. No doubt I’d seen him on the trails though.

11:43 am, Tuesday. I walked inside and found Laura. I went to say goodbye and give her my condolences. She introduced me to several members of her family that were there. She further explained that I was the only one that stopped to help. She’d asked several bikers riding by for help, and none had stopped. This surprised me, as cyclists, particularly mountain bikers have a code. That code is to offer help on the trail when someone has a mechanical or other issue. That someone was on the ground getting CPR and her pleas for help were ignored was astounding. Perhaps they felt scared or incapable of helping, or freak out with stuff like that. I wasn’t a hero, but rather just a guy who was there at exactly the right time and helped. I did what had to be done, and did the best I could. It is unfortunate that he didn’t live, but it was all part of God’s plan to take him at that time. Nobody understands it, as evidenced by what was said in the service and the hundreds of mourners. And certainly not his widow, Laura.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28

11:50 am, Tuesday. I got in my truck and turned the ignition key. Usually after a funeral, I feel sad and empty inside having been through an emotional period of remembrance and sorrow for someone that was important to me. The sense of loss is faced head on during the funeral service and helps bring acceptance and closure. In this case, however, I had no sense of sorrow. Rather, I had a feeling of completing my duty to support Laura in my little way, and to close the loop for myself to try to understand the person I’d tried to help save. Reflecting on it for a few moments, I’m not really sure if I succeeded. I struggled to figure out what and how I should feel after the service. Maybe I felt guilty because I should be feeling sad, but wasn’t. This was a strange set of circumstances that had put me here. I’m still not sure why timing put me there at that moment to share CPR duty with a man named Jeff, with his wife Laura, on the now deceased Jeff V. That’s a lot of Jeff’s. I knew I needed to continue to pray that comfort will surround Laura in the weeks ahead, and that one day she will understand this tragic loss. Nonetheless, I’d gone to the memorial service for Laura. And for me. There were still some unanswered questions and my emotions weren’t settled with this whole ordeal. Maybe the “why” will become clear in the future. I truly hope so. Some open items still remained in my mind.

11:53 am, Tuesday. I put the truck in reverse…..

Author’s note: Laura V. has given permission for this article to be posted.

Congo Kid – Article 11 – September, 2019

Copyright © 2019 by Jeffrey W. Eales. All rights reserved. No portions may be reproduced or transmitted in any format without the prior written permission of the author.