There are moments in life when we're called upon to act quickly and bravely, to reach out beyond ourselves to protect others. As a company, we are devoted to safety. The construction industry can be a dangerous one and we're committed to all of our employees returning home safely at the end of every day. It is, in fact, one of our core values. But what happens when those employees are off the clock? When they're done for the day and heading home? Director of Safety Stu Cavuto and Supervisor Jason Wheeler truly embody the mentality of "safety first" and caring for their fellow man. Below is the transcript from Jason's Facebook post of an event that took place this weekend:
To the man who I saw take what would have been his last breath, today,
My hope is that you learned something. I hope it scared you. I hope it scared the man and woman who accompanied you in that car. I hope that you choose to get the help that you clearly desperately need. I hope that your friends push you and stay with you as you try to overcome your battle.
You died today in that car pulled off the side of Northern Blvd. You stopped breathing, and your heart stopped pumping. I truly believe that your family would be grieving your death this evening if it weren’t for the woman who pulled over, and in turn; fortunately, caught the attention of 2 men driving home to finish a small project we were working on so that we could enjoy our Father’s Day with our family. 1 of us had a particular set of skills, training, and experience in life-saving situations. The other has enough to save a life, but more importantly: a genuine give-a-shit type of attitude, and didn’t want to just drive by.
Eventually, and with hesitation; your friends finally told us that you are using heroin. Narcan had been self administered earlier in the day. You had none remaining. We heard your friends say that you had a baby boy at home. We saw them crying as you died in that car. I looked in their eyes as my partner jockeyed your head in an effort to keep your head from falling and closing off your airway.
Training and instinct took over and acted in a way which prompted explicit direction in essentially breathing for you. Your friend assumed that role, as we coached him through the process. He was told when to breathe for you, when to slow down, when to breathe for himself, not to have a panic attack, etc. Your airway was held open as your faint pulse was monitored while we awaited the arrival of paramedics. Your pulse stopped. Seconds seemed like minutes. As we moved to pull you out of the car to begin full on CPR; your heart started pumping again. A few more breaths and your body took over and began breathing. The ambulance was within sight now. Your friends were frantic. You were alive, again. Paramedics arrived, put you on a stretcher, and took over from there. We had done everything that we could do for you.
I hope you live. I hope you’re able to change your habits. I hope you’re able to raise your baby and spend many Father’s Days with him. I hope this Father’s Day, we were able to give you a new lease on life. I hope it wasn’t for nothing. I sincerely hope that the few that were involved today took something from it. Today had all the makings to have been a very grim and sad day.
Be someone. Win your battle. Be there for your family.
Not looking for praise. Not looking for pats on the back. Do something for someone else. Don’t be selfish. You have the opportunity in certain instances to change a life. Take advantage of those situations. Don’t stand back and regret it later. Anything is better than nothing.
Happy Father’s Day.