KERRE MCIVOR
KERRE FEELS REASSURED AFTER FINALLY COMPLETING A FIRST AID COURSE
Well, I finally did it. It’s taken me long enough. When my young friends had their first baby three years ago and we were privileged enough to be asked to look after him, I vowed I’d do a first aid course. Accidents happen, but if disaster struck on my watch, I wanted to be prepared.
I never got round to it. I used the usual excuse of being too busy, when really what we mean when we say we’re too busy is that it’s not our priority. To be fair, I came close.
Last year on the radio, people phoned in to tell my co-host and me how useful they’d found a first aid course, and Mark and I told each other that this was something we really needed to do.
We looked up St John courses being held in our area and made plans to attend one together. Then I broke my wrist. I ended up requiring first aid, rather than being the angel ministering it, and again the first aid course went on the back burner.
But the arrival of my first grandchild finally motivated me to get my A into G. I paid my money and put the date in the diary. As it got closer, I found myself huffing and puffing about spending nine hours in a boardroom with complete strangers on my precious day off. What was I thinking?
Surely I could just read a book on basic medical procedures and that would tell me what to do? But I’d paid for the course and really it was too late to back out. Plus, I tortured myself with the thought of how I’d feel if I came across an accident and somebody died because I hadn’t upskilled myself when I had the opportunity. Nothing like a little light Catholic guilt to get a girl out the door!
I was one of the first to arrive but the room soon filled up with all sorts of people from all walks of life. Our instructor was wonderful and we all bonded very quickly. Before we knew it, my classmates and I were pretending to have strokes and heart attacks and falls off ladders. Hitherto complete strangers were putting each other into recovery positions, bandaging each other up and being comforting and reassuring – just as we would have to do in a real-life situation.
I loved simulating dying. I think I’ve missed my calling. I should be a permanent patient on the Shortland Street set, writhing and convulsing. We also got to practise CPR on adult, child and infant dummies, and learned how to deal with choking situations.
I think I was lucky with my fabulous course mates and my talented instructor in that I learned a lot and at the same time had a lot of fun, but
I’ve been assured by people who’ve attended courses in other parts of the country that they had a great time on their St John training days too.
I hope and pray I never have to use the skills I’ve learnt but the knowledge that I will be of use in a crisis, and that potentially I could save somebody’s life, is wonderfully reassuring. For me and I hope for you.