Somebody Call 119

Hello and welcome to another entry my friend. Whilst I never thought that this was something I’d be writing about but after this year’s CPR training fiesta, I figured that I had to.

So, if we take a quick looky at the title, maybe you’re left thinking I made a bit of an error, writing ‘119’ instead of ‘911.’ Well, to add to your trivial-pursuit knowledge – in Korea, the emergency line is basically 911 backwards. For what reason? I have absolutely zero clue.

Fortunately, no emergency takes place in this blog entry, but did I want to be rescued and whisked away from the awkwardness that is in-person CPR training? Why yes. Yes I did.

Alright, so on a normal day, in any normal circumstance, in my own country…CPR training would be no worry of mine. However, any form of training, events and dinners that take place in Korea, that involve me and my workplace, stress me the heck out. Why? Well, for starters – everything is usually conducted in Korean (Duh). Now, I’m already lacking in my basic Korean skills, despite being here for literally four years (I know, truly shameful, aren’t I?), but to now have to understand medical terms and drills for CPR training in Korean??? Okay, it’s actually pretty straight forward. It really isn’t THAT bad. What is a little awkward is having to partner up and perform the CPR steps on the creepy dummies they lay down in front of you, whilst others watch and wait their turns. (Talk about peak-level anxiety.) However, because this year was my fourth year doing CPR training at my workplace amongst all the other Korean teachers. (I work in a public elementary school if I haven’t yet mentioned that. If I have, you’ll have to blame my goldfish memory). So, I felt confident enough on how to avoid looking like an idiot in front of everyone, when prompted to do a certain step of the training, even if said steps were in Korean. By now, I got this. 

What I didn’t anticipate was the introducing and adding of the Heimlich maneuver to said training. I don’t got this.

Sigh……………..

Okay, so that was my initial motivation for writing up this blog entry, because once again it allows me to explain the 5 stages of dread my brain went through when realizing we’d have to stand behind a stranger, and squeeze their bodies until a polystyrene peanut popped out from the chest vest they had to wear. Confused? Let me explain. 

Upon demonstration of the Heimlich, I didn’t realise we were actually going to have to do it ourselves. Each year, they usually show us what to do in circumstances where someone is choking, yourself included. That usually involves slam-dunking yourself on the backrest of a chair in order to rid your throat of whatever’s stuck in it. Ouch.

Never ever did I think we were going to be coerced into wearing inflated vests with a tiny pipe sticking out the top, in the front - whereby a little peanut would shoot out if pushed on correctly.  

Ah yes, if there’s anything I hate more than making a fool of myself, it’s making a fool of someone else, because by accomplishing the mission of getting the little peanut to pop out of the vest, someone would have to stand behind you and perform the maneuver correctly.

Now of course, performing the Heimlich on someone without any precautions or ‘safety vests’ that emulate choking, can be pretty dangerous. Thus, the nifty creation of these said vests now allow for us to not only practice CPR on dummies, but the Heimlich maneuver on each other. REAL. HUMAN. BEINGS. cries

After the demonstration by the training facilitators, a few of us were then asked to volunteer as those who would wear a vest for other volunteers to practice on. This would be less mortifying if it wasn’t only about eight people volunteering, which meant everyone else sat in their seats and watched the shenanigans unfold. So of course, I didn’t volunteer first. I would rather throw myself out the nearest window, thank you.

Now, to make it more appropriate, women were partnered with women and men with men and yes, I say appropriate because practicing this maneuver looks absolutely beyond awkward! In real life circumstances, when you are actually trying to save someone – you are not going to worry about such things, neither will anyone else think otherwise, but simply practicing and repeating the motions of squeezing someone from the back? I’m sorry, it looks awkward as heck. There is not other way to describe it. 

A group of women vested up and another group came up behind them. On the count of three, they were asked ONE BY ONE (excuse this paragraph quickly…

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...

Okay, back to it), I repeat – one by one, to do the maneuver until they successfully popped the peanut out from the vest. Some people managed to do it on the first try (God, please let that be me and release me from this embarrassing but necessary training). Some people however...just kept going and going, failing miserably to pop that darn peanut out from the vest. I wanted it to end. I couldn’t handle the second-hand embarrassment any longer. I wanted to die. I was anticipating me in that position, and found myself wanting to melt into the chair until I became one myself.

Alright, eventually everyone succeeded and it was time to switch. Eventually, I couldn’t prolong my fate any longer and found myself making my way up. I had to choose someone to stand behind.

Now, here’s another side story really quick that’s important to note.

I am not very familiar with a lot of the teachers at my school for a few reasons. 1) I don’t attend any meetings because I am not required to since I have zero power in my position to do or change anything anyway so what’s the point? 2) Often times, I’m avoided like the plague because heaven forbid one has to try and engage with a foreigner in this environment. I mean, it’s not everyone, but yesterday I had a teacher knock on the door of my office (which I happen to share with two other teachers) and the look on her face when she saw just me was that of absolute terror. I tried asking her who she was looking for. I even asked in Korean and called out the names of my co-workers who dwelled in that office with me in order for it to perhaps ring a bell in her head. Rather than saying anything, she uhmed and ahhhed in complete fear and simply smiled terribly and awkwardly, closed the door and left. Like gee, thanks. 

Alright, back to my reasonings. 3) Because I have a designated office that I do happen to share with some staff, I don’t find myself seeing the other teachers very often. Some are friendly, some aren’t. It doesn’t matter. What matters is how awkward it makes it when everyone in this stupid line-up are none of the teachers I’m very familiar or comfortable with. Likewise, they probably feel the same way. I worry about the fear that I may instil upon them as I stand behind them. I know it’s nonsense. I know it’s nonsensical to feel like I scare people and that they don’t want anything to do with me – but when you’re in an environment that makes you feel that way, even if it’s not intentional because of course I know it’s not – it just makes it very challenging at times.

For the sake of other’s comfort and wellbeing, I’d rather just avoid them to allow them to keep their own peace. But not now when I have to squish them from behind and overstep a sort of physical boundary, let alone a social boundary.

Alright, so I stood behind one of the subject teachers who happen to share the same office as me. She’s pretty young but I have absolutely zero knowledge about her as a person, I can’t even remember her name because I asked it one time, months ago. I’ve tried talking to her a few times, but I can see she dreads the thought of maybe having to speak English to me and so, like usual, I stay civil, greet and avoid.

Not this time.

I stood behind her, wrapping my arms around her chest, over the vest, waiting for my turn to Heimlich that peanut as hard as I could to ensure its exit. LOL, no I’m kidding. I was never going to try and crush her, but I was very adamant on giving her an intentional squeeze so we could both get this over with the first time around.

Everyone before me succeeded on the first go (talk about pressure), and now it was my turn.

I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer and off I went, performing the maneuver as I was shown in the demonstration and by the almighty grace of God, that polystyrene peanut shot out of that vest and flew to the sky. Immediately I unwrapped my arms and stood back, wanting nothing more than to go and sit back down or better yet, hide myself under a rock.

If you’re wondering at this point why I’m being so dramatic, do you even know who I am by now?

It was done. It was over. I could breathe. (Pun maybe intended.)

I didn’t ever care about the next people performing the maneuver. I was simply waiting for the greenlight to go and sit back down, and sit back down eventually did. Next up it was the male teachers and they succeeded and finished pretty quickly and effortlessly.  

Eventually, it was all over. I signed my name to prove I participated in the training and I got my certificate. After that, I powerwalked my way out of the gym where the training had taken place, hoping my brain would forget about it, sooner rather than later.

Of course, I remembered it all in vivid high-definition upon writing up this entry, but it’s okay. It made for a great memory to share.

Until the next stop,

Bus Blog Driver Tay