WHEN CHRISTINE MET TERRY
How her quick actions saved his life
All Christine Gregory wanted was an oil change. What she got instead was a chance to put her CPR skills to good use and save Terry Kerr’s life.
CHRISTINE
It was June 27, the Friday before the Canada Day long weekend.
Christine desperately needed an oil change before getting on the road to her family’s cottage, so she zipped over to a shop on Bank Street after finishing work as a nurse on the complex care team at the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario. Her Mazda 3 was hot from sitting in the blazing sun all day, so she rolled down all the windows.
The garage was swamped with customers. But just when Christine was about to leave, the owner told her that they could probably squeeze her in. As he pulled up her file in the computer, a mechanic ran into office and said, “Call 911. Terry just passed out.”
Christine told them she’s a nurse and followed the mechanic into the garage, where she found a man lying on his side, clearly in distress.
“His colour just went from dark red to a dark purple-blue colour in seconds, and then I could see his eyes rolling back.”
The 29-year-old tried to perform a jaw thrust to get his airway open, but couldn’t, nor could she locate a pulse.
Another mechanic helped her get the man on his back so Christine could start CPR.
“I don’t think anyone else realized at that point how serious it was.”
TERRY
“It was a normal day, pretty much did my job.”
It was late in the afternoon when a woman who had been shopping for a new car dropped one off for some of the other mechanics to check.
Terry, 63, had worked at the Midas shop for four or five years, and was looking forward to a weekend off. The afternoon sun was pouring in.
The other mechanics put the car up on the hoist, and Terry went over to have a look.
“I didn’t feel any different. I just walked over, looked under the vehicle, stepped back and pfft, that was it. I just remember myself going. I don’t remember anything after that.”
CHRISTINE
She knelt down, positioned herself at Terry’s side and started pumping his chest, counting out loud to keep her pace and to help her stay calm.
His chest began to rise at one point and his eyes flickered open, so Christine rolled him into the recovery position. As soon as she did, his eyes rolled back, so she quickly turned him over again and kept pumping his chest. She felt his ribs crack and pop, but just kept reminding herself, “You’re doing it right — keep going.”
She could hear the siren in the distance, getting closer, and was relieved that help was on the way.
She continued with the chest compressions while one arriving paramedic worked to open Terry’s airway and the other cut off his shirt to prepare him for a defibrillator shock.
Someone gave a “hands off” order, a shock was delivered, then more chest compressions. Police and another team of paramedics arrived, and someone took Christine’s place at Terry’s side.
As she gave a report to one of the police officers, there was a commotion — Terry had spit out his breathing tube and was thrashing around, trying to push away the oxygen mask. He was conscious again, but in shock.
Christine ran to his side and looked him in the eye.
“Terry, you’ve had an accident,” she said. “The paramedics are trying to help, just a little bit of oxygen is going to make you feel better.”
TERRY
Once he came to, he was able to answer all of their questions. He knew where he was and could give them his wife’s telephone number. He remembers the siren.
The pain in his chest was intense and made it difficult to breathe.
He was initially taken to the Ottawa Hospital’s General campus, then transferred the next day to the University of Ottawa Heart Institute.
Although he’d never had any heart troubles before, doctors performed triple-bypass surgery and also discovered scars from previous heart attacks Terry didn’t know he had suffered. They sewed a defibrillator into his chest with a wire to his heart, so if the beat goes awry again, it can quickly be restored before another cardiac arrest.
He spent five weeks in hospital and dropped more than 25 pounds. He can’t lift more than several kilograms and won’t be able to drive or return to work for months.
He hasn’t smoked a cigarette since June 27.
“I don’t miss it a damn bit.”
CHRISTINE
Her hands and knees were covered in oil and she struggled to catch her breath after the ambulance pulled away.
She cleaned up in the washroom, drank some water and returned to the office.
“Did we ever get your car keys from you?” the shop owner asked.
He didn’t charge her for the oil change.
Later that afternoon, she texted her boyfriend and a colleague. She called her father to tell him she’d be arriving to the cottage near Sharbot Lake later than expected. She stopped at a store and bought a new book.
Terry’s daughter called her the next day, after learning what she’d done. His wife, Sally, called her, too.
“He dropped dead that day,” Sally told her. “His heart stopped and you started it again.”
TERRY
He’s recovering at home now. He pays closer attention to what he eats and tries to live each day as it comes, instead of getting bent out of shape about things.
Of Christine, he’s clear about one thing: She deserves a medal.
“She needs to be recognized more than just me taking her out for lunch. My first thought was the Order of Canada.”
Sally agrees. “What do you say to somebody like that? ‘Thank you’ isn’t really enough.”
CHRISTINE AND TERRY
They meet again nine weeks later at Terry’s home on a leafy street in Richmond.
Christine hugs Sally first, then wraps her arms around Terry.
“I probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” he says softly.
At the kitchen table, they chat about Terry and Sally’s three children, about Christine’s job at CHEO.
And then Terry asks what happened that day and Christine tells him the story.
Later, she mentions that she has signed up for her yearly CPR recertification, which she’s done every year since learning the lifesaving technique back in nursing school.
With a smile, Terry tells her she’s already passed the test.