CPR Training

A note to everyone:  I wrote this blog soon after participating in the training; however, the nature of it was difficult for me and I have taken some time to publish.  Please feel free to let us know your thoughts.

I recently started a new part time position working with Youth in our area.  Due to the nature of the work, I found that I would have to be certified in CPR.  I panicked.  I had not dealt with CPR since the night that Bob passed.  Truly, since we know how that night ended….I really did not have a lot of confidence in my abilities with CPR.  I dreaded the thought of attending this session.  To top it off, I was being asked to attend this training the very month that Bob had passed and I would be dealing with the anniversary date around the same time.  Fortunately, there was a miscommunication about the time of the training and I missed the November session.  I would have to attend the December session of the training.


So, I sat down with the trainer of the program and let him know of my situation.  I wanted him to be aware that he might have a bawling woman on his hands and that I truly did not know how I would react to the information presented.  In addition to his training abilities, this man was also a pastor of a local church and had some experience in handling widows.  He assured me things would be fine.


So, I went to the training on a Saturday morning…thoroughly expecting to melt down.  The trainer let me know that I could leave the room whenever needed.  As we watched a video portraying life and death situations, I had to leave the room once to compose myself as it reminded me so much of that day. The images of victims on the ground reminded me of “That Day”.   I walked around the inside of the building trying to convince myself to go back in and finish the training.  The tears were bubbling under the surface and continually trying to find their way out.  I think I made about 2 trips around the inside before I was able to go back in.


Additionally, I allowed the trainer to tell my story to the room.  That way, others understood some of my actions.  When the others got down on the ground to attend to their “victims”, I could not go to the ground but had to complete the actions with my “victim” (dummy) on the table.  I just couldn’t get into the same position I had been in with my husband 9 years ago.  Even attending to the “victim” on the table had me shaking inside.

The compassion of my trainer and the other trainees assisted me in getting through the day.  They recognized the enormous difficulty of this task for me and provided encouragement and did not cause a fuss when I had to bow out a few times.  I did manage to complete the tasks at hand and receive my certification.  Fortunately, I will have some time before I have to face it again.

Afterwards, I had planned some down time to allow myself to recover and the gentleman that is presently in my life made sure that things went smoothly.  We just had a leisurely dinner and cuddled with a movie.

It definitely wasn’t easy that day, but by allowing others into my world, I was able to get through.  I have found that sometimes, by including others in the story, I can cope better with the difficult things.  Some stories remain with me…but when I need assistance…I have (sometimes) learned to ask for it.  Definitely not easy…but better.