Sunday, June 18, 2006
You never know
We were doing what we loved, making music.
It was an impromptu jam at a guitar shop, yours truly playing bass and a fellow picker letting rip over a 12 bar progression. The thing about such spontaneous eruptions of musical expression, even with strangers, is that sometimes it’s brilliant and other times it’s comical, but it’s always good fun.
The sound of a falling stool behind me put a stop to it. We turned around to see a fellow customer being helped onto the floor, convulsing in a fit while his arms and legs were held out stiffly in an awkward position.
The guitar and bass went back on the wall and we sprung into action. The customer in question was laid flat on the floor, still convulsing violently and starting to foam at the mouth while his bloodshot eyes rolled upwards. An awful gurgling noise was interspersed with wheezing, and a few of us were gathered around him, trying to hold him so that he didn’t hit himself on anything. Others standing by whipped out their phones, trying to contact an ambulance and his family.
The saliva that flowed out of the corner of his lips soon took on the bright red of blood, and at this point someone prompted us to turn him on his side. The religious among us started putting their hands on him and prayed out loud, while I held on to his torso and legs to keep him on his side. Frantic running footsteps resonated in the corridor as someone ran to find a doctor in the building.
The medic and doctor came and by the time we carried him to the ambulance, he had stabilized and was semi-conscious. Last I heard he was doing alright.
***
This incident prompted me to look up the courses of action to be taken in the event of someone getting a seizure, since no one in the shop was really quite sure what to do, instead relying on a mish-mash of opinions and following whichever seemed the most logical then.
So here it is, from http://www.epilepsy.org.uk/info/firstaid.html
DO...
Protect the person from injury - (remove harmful objects from nearby)
Cushion their head
Look for an epilepsy identity card or identity jewellery
Aid breathing by gently placing them in the recovery position (shown in the link) once the seizure has finished
Be calmly reassuring
Stay with the person until recovery is complete
DON'T...
Restrain the person
Put anything in the person’s mouth (At that time someone actually suggested putting a spoon in his mouth)
Try to move the person unless they are in danger
Give the person anything to eat or drink until they are fully recovered
Attempt to bring them round
Call for an ambulance if...
You know it is the person’s first seizure
The seizure continues for more than five minutes
One tonic-clonic seizure follows another without the person regaining consciousness between seizures
The person is injured during the seizure
You believe the person needs urgent medical attention
***
Someday it might be useful.
It was an impromptu jam at a guitar shop, yours truly playing bass and a fellow picker letting rip over a 12 bar progression. The thing about such spontaneous eruptions of musical expression, even with strangers, is that sometimes it’s brilliant and other times it’s comical, but it’s always good fun.
The sound of a falling stool behind me put a stop to it. We turned around to see a fellow customer being helped onto the floor, convulsing in a fit while his arms and legs were held out stiffly in an awkward position.
The guitar and bass went back on the wall and we sprung into action. The customer in question was laid flat on the floor, still convulsing violently and starting to foam at the mouth while his bloodshot eyes rolled upwards. An awful gurgling noise was interspersed with wheezing, and a few of us were gathered around him, trying to hold him so that he didn’t hit himself on anything. Others standing by whipped out their phones, trying to contact an ambulance and his family.
The saliva that flowed out of the corner of his lips soon took on the bright red of blood, and at this point someone prompted us to turn him on his side. The religious among us started putting their hands on him and prayed out loud, while I held on to his torso and legs to keep him on his side. Frantic running footsteps resonated in the corridor as someone ran to find a doctor in the building.
The medic and doctor came and by the time we carried him to the ambulance, he had stabilized and was semi-conscious. Last I heard he was doing alright.
***
This incident prompted me to look up the courses of action to be taken in the event of someone getting a seizure, since no one in the shop was really quite sure what to do, instead relying on a mish-mash of opinions and following whichever seemed the most logical then.
So here it is, from http://www.epilepsy.org.uk/info/firstaid.html
DO...
Protect the person from injury - (remove harmful objects from nearby)
Cushion their head
Look for an epilepsy identity card or identity jewellery
Aid breathing by gently placing them in the recovery position (shown in the link) once the seizure has finished
Be calmly reassuring
Stay with the person until recovery is complete
DON'T...
Restrain the person
Put anything in the person’s mouth (At that time someone actually suggested putting a spoon in his mouth)
Try to move the person unless they are in danger
Give the person anything to eat or drink until they are fully recovered
Attempt to bring them round
Call for an ambulance if...
You know it is the person’s first seizure
The seizure continues for more than five minutes
One tonic-clonic seizure follows another without the person regaining consciousness between seizures
The person is injured during the seizure
You believe the person needs urgent medical attention
***
Someday it might be useful.
The Write Stuff II
Here we go folks, my second article for uberture, music-based as always. Being chronically less-than-hip, I'm not too sure what to make of the rest of the website, but I'm sure everyone can find something to look at there even if it's just eye-candy. Aye aye.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
The Unknown Song
Living at home for the past month or so has reacquainted me with the sights and sounds of my neighbourhood, as well as getting them used to having me around. The most common feature of my immediate surrounding soundscape is that of my next door neighbour playing mahjong in the afternoons with her fellow retirees. However, today the usual chaotic clatter of plastic tiles hitting each other was strangely absent.
A short downpour had just come and gone, and all that was left was a light drizzle. My neighbour’s birds began chirping again after being overwhelmed by the sound of rainfall, interrupted only by the light rumbling of distant thunder and occasional punctuation with barks.
And as suddenly as the rain came, a voice broke out in song. A female soprano gave a rendition of a song I had never heard before, but caught my attention nonetheless for the timbre of her voice and the inflections that she sang with. It was gentle in tone yet commanding in projection, and I stretched to look out the window to investigate the source of this impromptu musical outpouring. The mythical Sirens came to mind, but I feared not for I was not a lonesome sailor out on the open seas. Not in the literal sense at least.
She was sweeping the floor of the residence next door as she sang, occasionally bending down to pick up wayward twigs and tie up rubbish bags. Music and song were probably her means of alleviating the tedium of household chores, much like how the early Afro-American slaves sought to get through the laborious day through work songs and cleverly-disguised protest songs. Like them, she too came from far away, though in better living conditions and employment terms. In all probability, she had a family to finance back home and a future to build for herself.
Not all of her compatriots have had it easy though. Increasingly shocking cases of maid abuse surface from time to time, ranging from overwork, reckless endangerment to outright assault and mutilation. The relationship between maid and employer is a complex one, subject to much interpretation between the two parties but skewed enormously to the part of the employer. Absolute power over another in servitude can bring out the best and the worst in human beings, and the perpetrators range from the uneducated to the well-heeled professionals. Surely, such cases are the minority but the sheer ferocity of the abuse being meted out sometimes begs the question of how many more suffer in silence, even if to a lesser degree that nevertheless cannot be condoned.
Not wanting to be caught in a potentially embarrassing situation, I backed out of the window and contented myself with listening in anonymity.
For as long as she felt like singing.
A short downpour had just come and gone, and all that was left was a light drizzle. My neighbour’s birds began chirping again after being overwhelmed by the sound of rainfall, interrupted only by the light rumbling of distant thunder and occasional punctuation with barks.
And as suddenly as the rain came, a voice broke out in song. A female soprano gave a rendition of a song I had never heard before, but caught my attention nonetheless for the timbre of her voice and the inflections that she sang with. It was gentle in tone yet commanding in projection, and I stretched to look out the window to investigate the source of this impromptu musical outpouring. The mythical Sirens came to mind, but I feared not for I was not a lonesome sailor out on the open seas. Not in the literal sense at least.
She was sweeping the floor of the residence next door as she sang, occasionally bending down to pick up wayward twigs and tie up rubbish bags. Music and song were probably her means of alleviating the tedium of household chores, much like how the early Afro-American slaves sought to get through the laborious day through work songs and cleverly-disguised protest songs. Like them, she too came from far away, though in better living conditions and employment terms. In all probability, she had a family to finance back home and a future to build for herself.
Not all of her compatriots have had it easy though. Increasingly shocking cases of maid abuse surface from time to time, ranging from overwork, reckless endangerment to outright assault and mutilation. The relationship between maid and employer is a complex one, subject to much interpretation between the two parties but skewed enormously to the part of the employer. Absolute power over another in servitude can bring out the best and the worst in human beings, and the perpetrators range from the uneducated to the well-heeled professionals. Surely, such cases are the minority but the sheer ferocity of the abuse being meted out sometimes begs the question of how many more suffer in silence, even if to a lesser degree that nevertheless cannot be condoned.
Not wanting to be caught in a potentially embarrassing situation, I backed out of the window and contented myself with listening in anonymity.
For as long as she felt like singing.
The Mountaineer
A drop of sweat fell off his brow onto the dry rock below as he stood on the summit.
The climb was never easy. The ascent got off to a good start, with lush grass underfoot and a gentle slope which was testing without being excessively tiring. Not exactly a stroll in the park, but not Mt Everest either. As the journey went on, the vegetation took on a different hue in progressive shades of brown, until all that was left were tumbleweeds blowing in the wind.
Towards the middle the terrain became rockier and the gradient swept steadily upwards, until at some points it was passable only by vertical climbing. At times the rock grips crumbled in his sweaty hands and distractions were never far away, circling around him like vultures over carrion.
Occasionally there were angels who whispered encouraging words amidst the howling winds, but being transient beings they were unable to extend a helping hand, nor was it their place to do so, for this was an ascent that each individual had to achieve for himself. The treacherous terrain threatened to throw him off, and at one point a loud mocking voice resonated in the valleys, attempting to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind.
But he would have none of it. Even as the chances of reaching the top started slipping out of his grip, hope and dogged determination pushed him up just a little bit at each step, maintaining a mathematical possibility of success, however remote it might have seemed.
And yet here he was, surveying the land before him from the top as he propped up a foot on a wayward rock. He took a long, refreshing gulp from his canteen filled with his beverage of choice, and allowed it to slowly flow down his parched throat like cold water over a dry river bed.
Atop the summit, he could see the mountains he had conquered and left behind, all of which seemed like mounds of dirt in comparison. Turning around, he saw in the distance yet another peak, looming much taller than the one on which he stood.
*cue music : Mannish Boy by Muddy Waters*
And he whispered under his breath,
“I’m coming to get you.”
The climb was never easy. The ascent got off to a good start, with lush grass underfoot and a gentle slope which was testing without being excessively tiring. Not exactly a stroll in the park, but not Mt Everest either. As the journey went on, the vegetation took on a different hue in progressive shades of brown, until all that was left were tumbleweeds blowing in the wind.
Towards the middle the terrain became rockier and the gradient swept steadily upwards, until at some points it was passable only by vertical climbing. At times the rock grips crumbled in his sweaty hands and distractions were never far away, circling around him like vultures over carrion.
Occasionally there were angels who whispered encouraging words amidst the howling winds, but being transient beings they were unable to extend a helping hand, nor was it their place to do so, for this was an ascent that each individual had to achieve for himself. The treacherous terrain threatened to throw him off, and at one point a loud mocking voice resonated in the valleys, attempting to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind.
But he would have none of it. Even as the chances of reaching the top started slipping out of his grip, hope and dogged determination pushed him up just a little bit at each step, maintaining a mathematical possibility of success, however remote it might have seemed.
And yet here he was, surveying the land before him from the top as he propped up a foot on a wayward rock. He took a long, refreshing gulp from his canteen filled with his beverage of choice, and allowed it to slowly flow down his parched throat like cold water over a dry river bed.
Atop the summit, he could see the mountains he had conquered and left behind, all of which seemed like mounds of dirt in comparison. Turning around, he saw in the distance yet another peak, looming much taller than the one on which he stood.
*cue music : Mannish Boy by Muddy Waters*
And he whispered under his breath,
“I’m coming to get you.”
