Summer Watch

“I received a photo that I really should never have to see, as Beach Supervisor. I want you to look at it and tell me what you see.”

My boss was sitting behind his desk facing me. I had been summoned to see him. I couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. Was someone skinny dipping on the beach? If so, why was he sharing it with me? 

He used two fingers to slide the photo over to me. I glanced down and gulped in surprise.

“It’s me, obviously, sitting on the beach, at work. Watching the water.”

“Are you really? Watching the water, that is?” His cold, hard stare pinned me. “Look closer,” he continued. “What are you actually looking at?”

Busted. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice the fact that, in the picture, I was staring down at my phone. 

“My phone?” My voice was small.

“Bingo. Yes, your phone.”

I said nothing, not knowing what to say.

“And what is it we pay you to do?” 

“Be a lifeguard?”

“Right. So . . . “ he paused for a moment, steepling his fingers together. “Care to explain?” he asked sternly.

“Well, I uh,” I stammered, trying to collect my thoughts. “If I remember, I really had to go to the bathroom and there was no other guard to relieve me, so I was checking my phone to see how much time was left on my shift. I didn’t want to leave my station. But I really had to go, you see . . .“

Despite my embarrassment, I tried to make myself sound like a conscientious employee, when in reality, I knew that I was often bored and sleepy at work. Most days it was an effort to remain alert and attentive. The worst kind of days were those when I had no customers, no swimmers in the water. Those days stretched out endlessly, especially when it was cool but sunny. The radiant heat had a tendency to make me sleepy. I had either been looking at my phone out of sheer boredom or checking the time to see when my shift was up. Most likely I did have to pee. Just like I said. 

I looked again at the photo, noticing that I was sitting in my accustomed spot on the sand with my gear by my side. First-aid kit, life preserver, clipboard, backpack, walky talky. I had my sunglasses on, hair up in a ponytail, whistle around my neck. My water bottle rested by my side, still full. I tried not to drink too much while working. I didn’t want to have to leave my station to relieve myself unnecessarily. There didn’t appear to be another soul around, either on the beach or in the water, making me wonder who took the picture.

I voiced that thought. “Can I ask who took the picture and how it came to you?”

“A lady by the name of Jenny Schwartz,” his answer was immediate. “She was walking on the beach that day with her kids, collecting seashells when she saw you. She snapped the picture with her phone and posted it. She threatened to send it into the newspaper and even to the local TV news.”

He glanced down at a paper on his desk, continuing. “Our tax dollars at work. City of Pebble Point lifeguard caught on duty glued to her phone, not once looking up to watch the water. To potentially save lives. Is this really where we want our children swimming? I know I don’t want mine to. From now on, we'll be going to the beach at the country club where standards are higher, and lives are deemed worth saving. It’s a shame that here in America, citizens of all walks of life are not able to enjoy the same freedoms.”

Worth saving? That was carrying the matter a mite too far.

“She put that on Facebook?” I asked. 

“Yes. She’s some sort of influencer. She calls herself a Momfluencer, whatever that means.” He grimaced, “But,” he blew out an exasperated sigh, “she’s got a thousand followers apparently. It’s going viral. To all the other moms. Not a good look for the Parks and Recreation department.” 

“Oh no.” I didn’t know what to say, but felt the need to say something. “I”m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

“You bet it’ll never happen again.” His voice was firm.

My heart sank. “Am I fired?”

“No, not fired. Although it would be the easy solution . . . “ he paused thoughtfully. “In today’s world, though, with the shortage of workers, particularly summer help, I can’t afford to lose anyone. Therefore, you’ve been reassigned. You’re now the locker room attendant and sanitation worker at the southside pool and park. You're going to be mopping the floors and scrubbing toilets. Gone are the days of sun and fun. Welcome to the real world.”

“This starts when?” I asked dejectedly.

“Monday. Report for duty at 6:00 a.m.”

“6:00 a.m.?”

He must be joking. Who could possibly want to swim that early at an outdoor public pool?

“Yes. 6:00 a.m. We have a new program called Swimming for Seniors. The old folks get the pool all to themselves from 6:30 to 10 a.m. before we open it up to everybody else. Old people like to get up early. God knows why. You'll come in at six and make sure the locker room is shining before they arrive. I’ll be there on your first day to show you the ropes.”

“I can hardly wait,” my voice was dry.

The first day arrived without a hitch. As promised, my boss showed me around. The job wasn’t hard, but tedious. As he said, I was scrubbing toilets, shower stalls, sinks, mopping the floor, emptying garbage. The usual janitorial stuff. In addition, I had to check everyone’s i.d. to make sure they were registered members of the senior swim club. And worst yet, I had to remind them to shower before entering the pool.

Nothing like a college kid reminding a senior citizen to shower up. A couple of old biddies cackled when I told them to take a shower. At least they didn’t get angry. They just thought it was funny. I couldn’t help but agree. 

If I thought before that the days on the beach were long, I was sadly mistaken. Those halcyon beach days didn’t even compare to the boredom of sitting inside a smelly, hot locker room all day, cleaning and checking identification. I couldn’t even bring in my phone, since phone usage in the locker room was prohibited. My only saving grace was reading. I carried a paperback with me at all times while on duty, slipping the book into my sweatshirt pocket so the boss wouldn’t see. I averaged almost a book a day, trashy romance novels that made for quick reading. I didn’t want to tackle anything too engrossing in case I was interrupted. After a while, the books were all the same, but at least it gave me something to do when locker room traffic was slow and my cleaning was done.

The days passed slowly. However, I was soon surprised to be called into the boss’s office again. What had I done this time? Had he somehow discovered my reading habit? Was I busted once more? 

“Hello again, Miss Nelson,” he said, surprisingly smiling at me.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. If I was in trouble, surely he wouldn’t be grinning at me. 

“Hello.” I waited for him to elaborate.

“Do you know why you’re here today?”

“No. I really don’t.” I was confused.

“Do you remember a lady named Mrs. Tuttle?”

Mrs. Tuttle, yes. That was it. The boss must have heard what happened. After the incident with her, I had completed the standard incident report, but had never heard the outcome. Never learned what happened to poor old Mrs. Tuttle. I sure hoped she was all right. She was a nice lady. She reminded me somewhat of my favorite grandmother. 

“Sure. I remember Mrs. Tuttle. Is she alright? Have you heard anything?”

“Yes, I’m happy to report that she’s just fine. Thanks to you.”

I smiled. “That’s good. I’m so glad.” I was relieved in fact. I would have hated to see anything happen to such a sweet old lady.

“I read your report, but now I’d like to hear it from you in your own words. Tell me what actually happened that day.”

“Ok.” I took a deep breath, before plunging into my story.

“Well, I was coming out of the bathroom where I had been cleaning. I had just finished wiping the mirrors off. I started walking towards my chair by the entrance to the locker room, carrying my cleaning bucket. When I got to the open area, the part in the middle by the bench, I looked down and I saw Mrs. Tuttle lying there on the floor. She was fully dressed, but her hair was wet like she had just been swimming. I bent down to see what was wrong, obviously something had to be going on with her since she was on the floor. She started twitching and convulsing. It kind of freaked me out.” I took a deep breath, remembering how she had looked lying there on the cold hard cement, her body convulsing uncontrollably. 

“My cousin has epilepsy, so I know what a seizure looks like. I rolled her over to the recovery position, so she wouldn’t bang her head or bite her tongue or anything. But,” all of a sudden, I felt myself choking up. “Hold on, give me a moment . . . “

I swallowed hard and mustered up my courage to continue on with my tale. I felt tears threatening as I pictured Mrs. Tuttle lying there, twitching, her eyes rolling back in her head. “As I was hovering over her, she took one last breath and then stopped. It looked to me like she wasn’t breathing. I radioed for help, making sure the concessions attendant called 911. Then, I tried to find a heartbeat, but it was hard, and I didn’t have time to second guess. I thought of my life saving training. Hands-free CPR, you push hard and fast in the center of the chest. At least until help arrives and someone runs to get the AED.”

I continued. “I started pushing hard and fast in the center of her chest. At the same time, I called for help. I had Samantha run and get the AED. She helped me out. Samantha was great.”

Samantha was the concessions attendant and my friend. If we hadn’t been tight before, we surely were now. There was nothing like saving someone’s life together to cement a friendship. 

Now I was gathering up steam and wanted to continue speaking until the end. I wanted resolution both in my words and for Mrs. Tuttle. The boss had already assured me she was all right, but I still needed to convince myself and my listener. I needed reassurance and resolution both in real life and in my story. My next words came out in a rush. 

“We had to cut open Mrs. Tuttle’s shirt. They say that’s the quickest way to attach the pads of the AED. We hooked her up, and waited for the all clear signal, a mechanical voice, before seeing if a shock was needed. A shock, that is, to start her heart . . . “ I stopped speaking again, suddenly overcome with emotion. I relived the moment when Samantha and I had sat there stricken, waiting for the AED analysis and wondering if the sweet little old lady’s heart had indeed stopped.

“And what did the AED advise you to do?” he prompted me. 

“It told us to push the button and shock her heart.” I still couldn’t believe it.

“So we did, and then the voice told us to continue giving CPR. I was on a roll. It was hard and tiring to push hard and fast for so long, but my adrenaline kicked in and there was no way I was going to stop. Samantha got out the mouth shield from the AED kit and we also gave some breaths to Mrs. Tuttle.”

Hard and fast. I felt like I was repeating myself, but somehow those words from my lifesaving training had stuck with me. During the whole traumatic event, that had been my focus. Pushing hard and fast. I continued with my story. Also talking hard and fast before I choked up once more.

“Then the AED machine analyzed Mrs. Tuttle again. It advised us that another shock was needed. So, I pushed the button again. I was dying inside, let me tell you, wondering if we were going to lose Mrs. Tuttle right there.”

After I said that last sentence, I realized it was a poor choice of words. Dying inside. Not me, but Mrs. Tuttle had almost died. I stopped speaking for a moment, as tears threatened to once again overcome me. 

“After that, the machine said to keep giving CPR. So, we did, and a few minutes later, the paramedics came and they took her away in the ambulance.”

I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

“I never heard anything more after that. Is she alright? Is she still in the hospital?”

My boss had a huge smile. “Yes, she's alright, thanks to you. Mrs. Tuttle had a sudden cardiac arrest. The doctors called it ventricular fibrillation. From what I gather, it is life threatening. If you had not been there when you did, she might not have made it.”

He looked down at something on his desk. “We got a card from her daughter. It’s addressed to you as Mrs. Tuttle’s guardian angel. She writes in here that her mother now has something called an ICD, which stands for an internal cardiac defibrillator. It kicks in to start her heart if it ever stops again. I guess Mrs. Tuttle spent a week in the hospital for all kinds of tests. They still don’t know exactly why it happened, but that was the fix. The daughter also writes that the cardiologist says that only ten percent of people who suffer sudden cardiac arrest outside of the hospital make it. They are, of course, very grateful.`"

My boss reached out his hand. “Let me shake your hand. If it wasn’t for you, Mrs. Tuttle would not be alive today. It was nothing short of miraculous that you, a trained lifeguard, was in the locker room that day.”

“I'm just glad she’s alive,” I wiped away a tear.

“You've more than proven yourself. You can now have the pick of any lifeguarding post you want.” He offered magnanimously. It was the least he could do. 

“If it’s all the same with you,” I smiled. “I think I’ll stay in the locker room the rest of the summer. I kind of like the old people. Four years of being a guard at the beach and in the pool and I never rescued anyone. A few short weeks in the locker room, and I’m now a hero. I am just glad I was there that day. Pushing hard and fast.”

Author’s note: Like Mrs. Tuttle in the story, I also suffered a cardiac arrest following swimming laps at a local public pool. A worker there, making the rounds in the locker room, found me convulsing on the floor and with the help of others, called for help and began CPR. My heart was then shocked twice with an AED, bringing me back to life. Like Mrs. Tuttle, I spent a week in the hospital and now have an internal cardiac defibrillator. I write this story to advocate for AEDs being readily available in public places and for all to learn the life saving measure of CPR. You truly never know when you might be faced with a life threatening situation. I am eternally grateful for my life saving angels that fateful day.