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I can't stop crying at the gym.
Okay, I've only cried twice, but considering that I just joined this new gym on Wednesday ... that's twice too many.
On Thursday, Ben, his roommate Kyle, and I went over to the gym that's right across from their apartments. Kyle's training for a marathon, and Ben and I are just trying to be healthier. (I've lost 7 pounds since Dec. 31, yahoo! I attribute it to starting school again. I'm busy again and don't have time to shove my face full of food all day long.)
I have been showing Ben my old lifting program, and that night we were working on back and biceps. We had just started, and Ben said he heard something. We both turned around and there was an old man down on the floor twisted between the treadmills. He was still seizuring. He was right next to Kyle, and apparently, he started seizuring and then fell off of the treadmill, still seizuring. It was absolutely horrible.
The staff stepped in, called 911, and stayed by him, while we lamely kept looking over our shoulders, whispering that we had no idea what to do. Inside I was frantic to help, but I didn't know how. Eventually he came to, and he was very worried, but some people calmly explained to him what had happened. He was dazed ... and then he started moaning, "Ow, ouch, OW, OUCH!" It was completely heartbreaking. He was inconsolable, and all I could do was wish the paramedics there faster. It seemed like it took way too long, but as I looked out the window, I saw a paramedic SUV pull up. Really? Shouldn't they send more than that? Some young guys hopped out, and I wanted to pound the glass and tell them to hurry. Then the firetruck pulled up behind them, and an ambulance pulled up behind the truck. Sheesh, now I switched gears and thought that they were just over doing it.
They came in with their doodahs and gadgets, and tried to ask the old man some questions, but he wouldn't respond other than moaning. We were really at a loss. Do we watch? No, that seemed intrusive. Do we keep working out? No, that seemed irreverent. Does Ben crack a joke to ease the tension? Of course. After a really long moan he whispered in my ear with a giggle, "Can't they get him out of here already?" He assured me he was kidding, but maybe we were all thinking it, but with more of a "help him out" attitude.
They were trying to help him on to the board, but they couldn't persuade him to hold still. I had my back to him, and then I hear, "Help me ... help me!" That's when the tears started. Looking back, I wish that I had gone over and seen if I could hold his hand or something. I don't know. I did nothing. They wheeled him out, and I just pray that he's alright.
Saturday Nat and Thurm were in town because the day before Thurm had had a dentist appointment, and Nat had had a baby appointment. Thurm's training for a marathon, so he and Ben went running together Saturday morning. We were all going to go swimming later, so I went to the gym while they ran outside.
My mom had called earlier that morning to invite us over for the funeral, but I told her that I didn't think we'd make it in time. Confession, I honestly hadn't been planning on watching the funeral, and then I felt overwhelmingly guilty. Luckily, when I got the gym, I realized that one of the t.v.'s was on the funeral channel. (You know what I mean.) So I hopped on the treadmill and ran while I listened to the beautiful talks.
I was so sweaty, and I hope that that disguised the tears rolling down my face. I was a mess, a stinky bawlbaby mess. What got me was when his daughter was talking about how President Hinckley was so sad when his wife died, and how he was so sad when he found out he had cancer. He was sad, and he let people know that he was sad, and it was okay that he was sad. He grieved every day for his wife. I loved this; it's real.
Okay, I've only cried twice, but considering that I just joined this new gym on Wednesday ... that's twice too many.
On Thursday, Ben, his roommate Kyle, and I went over to the gym that's right across from their apartments. Kyle's training for a marathon, and Ben and I are just trying to be healthier. (I've lost 7 pounds since Dec. 31, yahoo! I attribute it to starting school again. I'm busy again and don't have time to shove my face full of food all day long.)
I have been showing Ben my old lifting program, and that night we were working on back and biceps. We had just started, and Ben said he heard something. We both turned around and there was an old man down on the floor twisted between the treadmills. He was still seizuring. He was right next to Kyle, and apparently, he started seizuring and then fell off of the treadmill, still seizuring. It was absolutely horrible.
The staff stepped in, called 911, and stayed by him, while we lamely kept looking over our shoulders, whispering that we had no idea what to do. Inside I was frantic to help, but I didn't know how. Eventually he came to, and he was very worried, but some people calmly explained to him what had happened. He was dazed ... and then he started moaning, "Ow, ouch, OW, OUCH!" It was completely heartbreaking. He was inconsolable, and all I could do was wish the paramedics there faster. It seemed like it took way too long, but as I looked out the window, I saw a paramedic SUV pull up. Really? Shouldn't they send more than that? Some young guys hopped out, and I wanted to pound the glass and tell them to hurry. Then the firetruck pulled up behind them, and an ambulance pulled up behind the truck. Sheesh, now I switched gears and thought that they were just over doing it.
They came in with their doodahs and gadgets, and tried to ask the old man some questions, but he wouldn't respond other than moaning. We were really at a loss. Do we watch? No, that seemed intrusive. Do we keep working out? No, that seemed irreverent. Does Ben crack a joke to ease the tension? Of course. After a really long moan he whispered in my ear with a giggle, "Can't they get him out of here already?" He assured me he was kidding, but maybe we were all thinking it, but with more of a "help him out" attitude.
They were trying to help him on to the board, but they couldn't persuade him to hold still. I had my back to him, and then I hear, "Help me ... help me!" That's when the tears started. Looking back, I wish that I had gone over and seen if I could hold his hand or something. I don't know. I did nothing. They wheeled him out, and I just pray that he's alright.
Saturday Nat and Thurm were in town because the day before Thurm had had a dentist appointment, and Nat had had a baby appointment. Thurm's training for a marathon, so he and Ben went running together Saturday morning. We were all going to go swimming later, so I went to the gym while they ran outside.
My mom had called earlier that morning to invite us over for the funeral, but I told her that I didn't think we'd make it in time. Confession, I honestly hadn't been planning on watching the funeral, and then I felt overwhelmingly guilty. Luckily, when I got the gym, I realized that one of the t.v.'s was on the funeral channel. (You know what I mean.) So I hopped on the treadmill and ran while I listened to the beautiful talks.
I was so sweaty, and I hope that that disguised the tears rolling down my face. I was a mess, a stinky bawlbaby mess. What got me was when his daughter was talking about how President Hinckley was so sad when his wife died, and how he was so sad when he found out he had cancer. He was sad, and he let people know that he was sad, and it was okay that he was sad. He grieved every day for his wife. I loved this; it's real.
2 comments:
poor old guy. that is scary... as for the crybabyness i've got your back. i kid you not i cry at the " year of a million dreams" disneyland commericals ( or any other disneyland commerical for what it's worth) i didn't evem watch most of the funeral because i kept tearing up.
I'm with you on the always crying thing Jackie. I went to the funeral after chaperoning an all night party at the high school. Let's just say that I should probably NEVER go to a funeral with only four hours of sleep under my belt.
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