Paging Doctor MacGyver

If I could be a student for the rest of my life, I would. Between my undergraduate and graduate school years, I accepted this fact. I love everything about being in the classroom [except sitting in the front row]: learning new things, SCHOOL SUPPLIES!, the smell of Trapper Keepers and sharpened pencils, new school clothes...Basically, being in a classroom feels right to me. And, there are a lot of opportunities to "be right." I think it would surprise people who haven't been in a class with me that I am very forthcoming. I ask questions. I volunteer answers. It doesn't feel like a socially awkward situation for me.

So, when I learned that TriHealth offered a variety of education classes, I did what came naturally to me.

I signed BD and myself up for every class I could.

Touring the labor and delivery unit.
Totsaver CPR.
C-Sections.
Breastfeeding.
Childbirth Education.
I also volunteered to be a "pregnancy model" for a doula workshop. [no worries, they "palpated" my extremely clothed 28 week belly].

Until yesterday's thrice-rescheduled CPR class, BD had been a relatively quiet classmate. Sure, he made a big deal about having the right desk, but once any of our classes started, he was quiet. Unless he needed a snack or a drink. But, I learned to accommodate this and tried to feed him before class, keep him hydrated during class by bringing drinks, and then quickly rushed home to feed him afterwards. Let me clarify that I haven't had the baby yet, I am still referring to my thirtysomething husband.

So, you can imagine my absolute shock yesterday when I was settling into my classroom routine [you know, assessing the competition-ahem-other students, scouting out the best seat, pulling out my school supplies* that I keep with me always] and I hear someone say, "I have a question."

Wait just a minute. That's my line. Who is the other overachiever in this classroom of four pregnant women, four assumedly-non-pregnant-baby-daddies, and one grandmother? Lo and behold, it was my husband!

He continued, oblivious to his slack-jawed wife beside him. "What are the stipulations of the Good Samaritan Law?"

The what? I quickly scanned the course materials that were previously mailed to us and I saw no mentioned of such law. Surely BD was mistaken.

According to our instructor's absolute awe-filled face, he wasn't. His question clearly distinguished him as the star student. The instructor proceeded to lovingly explain the Good Samaritan Law while adoringly batting her eyelashes at my hero husband.

This just would not do.

I convinced myself that I needed to calm down and pay attention. One of my classroom weaknesses is that, when bored, I often get distracted by my surroundings. For example, the grandmother yesterday had a pair of one carat princess cut diamond earrings that I decided I needed. She also had reading classes and sunglasses. The couple to our left packed water and honey braided pretzel twists. The couple in the front row, on the right side, had some previous CPR training and got a 20 ounce Diet Coke during our classroom break, and finally, the couple in the front on the left were the chatty kathys of the group and appeared generally excited about life. NOTE TO PROFESSIONAL STUDENTS: stay away from students like these. They'll bring you down and their upbeat nature often overshadows your correct answers.

So, class continued. We got to a part of the course with compression demonstrations. We had child-sized mannequins to demonstrate on. Yours truly apparently did not apply enough pressure. BD was the star student. Again.

We continued with the course and the instructor was explaining how, in the event of a rescue, particularly one that involved water and/or choking, you should turn the person on their side once they are conscious so they are able to clear their own airway.

"What if there is a head or neck injury?"

Who IS this guy? I mean, I figured the best way we could prepare for being parents was to learn as much as we can about everything that is available. However, all of the learning that I was taking in was in the context of Batman. Apparently, BD plans to quit his current job and become a professional CPR-rescuer who is covered by the Good Samaritan Law and has a tight grasp on how to resuscitate victims with head and neck injuries.

Our instructor could not be happier. "GREAT question!" She proceeded to go into exhaustive detail about how her dreamboat star student could still save lives in the event of head or neck trauma.

Class continued. At this point, I've checked my phone several times, caught up on Twitter, and relived my fears of previous CPR classes that I attended in which during an infant Heimlich demonstration, I knocked the infant head off the infant body. We got to the part of the course that involved the Heimlich. Considering that almost half of the student body was pregnant, demonstrating the Heimlich proved to be difficult. With our partners, we sort of acted out choking and rescuing one another. Class was almost over.

"So, what if the person that's rescuing you or that you're rescuing is like a foot shorter than you?"

There he is! That's a question I would expect from BD. Seriously, we may have successfully demonstrated that we were capable parents because we could perform CPR on an infant, dislodge some object from their throat, and call for help in the event that we were unable to help an infant/child/adult victim, BUT, really, what should we do with such a drastic height difference?

In case you ever have to rescue BD or someone equally as tall, just ask him to sit down in a chair or get on his knees. If you find yourself in a situation in which you are being rescued by BD, remind him that he should grab a chair or get on his knees. Either way, it's important to be at eye level.



*a blue and black pen, post it notes, hand sanitizer, gum, and/or mints