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45 Seconds and Counting
Dr. Rob Boll was craving a hot turkey dinner and a slice of apple pie. After a hectic week treating patients with sore throats and ear infections at his family practice, the 52-year-old physician was ready for a night of home cooking and fellowship at his church's annual fund-raising dinner.Stepping inside the crowded gym at St. John's United Church of Christ, Boll and his family found a long line of people waiting to be seated. He wasn't surprised. The turkey feast had become a popular event in Mokena, Illinois, attended by hundreds from the surrounding Chicago suburbs. Many weren't even members of the congregation. They'd simply heard about the good food and were willing to pay $10 to heap their plates and help pay for the church's new community center. Boll and his wife, Dana, and their son, Kyle, 14, went every year.
After sitting down, Boll had barely placed his napkin in his lap when he heard a commotion on the other side of the room. "Help!" a woman shouted. "Does anybody know how to do the Heimlich?"
Jumping up from the table, the doctor could see a white-haired woman slumped over in her chair. "I'm a doctor. Tell me what happened," Boll said to the group gathered around 76-year-old Pat Rohrer.
"My mother-in-law choked on a piece of turkey," answered a frantic Colleen Rohrer. "We've tried the Heimlich maneuver, but it's not working." Boll reached around Pat's abdomen and pulled sharply upward with his fists. Nothing happened. Moving quickly, he lifted Pat up and onto the floor to get her into a better position. Twice again he tried the Heimlich, but she still didn't respond.
This can't be happening, Boll thought. He worried he wouldn't be able to help her. Looking up, he recognized Steve Hoblin, a nurse from the hospital near his office. "Steve, stick your fingers down her throat and see if you can sweep anything out," he said. Hoblin reached in and pulled out a small piece of turkey.
But Pat still wasn't breathing. In fact, she was rapidly turning blue. Apparently, some food was still lodged in her throat. Boll knew he needed to do something drastic--and fast--to get air into her lungs. His only chance was to perform an emergency tracheotomy.
"Call 911! And get me a sharp knife!" he shouted. His wife ran to the kitchen, and Hoblin handed over his pocketknife.
Boll had never done the operation before. He flashed back to the only time he'd seen one performed: during his residency 20 years earlier. That procedure had been done in a sterile, controlled environment by expert surgeons. How was a family doctor supposed to accomplish the same thing at a church dinner with a dull pocketknife?
He was relieved to see that his wife had found a clean paring knife. Taking a deep breath, Boll carefully cut a small slit in Pat's neck. As blood poured from the wound, he broke into a sweat. But Boll knew it was too late to stop. Two or three precious minutes had already passed. She couldn't survive much longer without oxygen. Boll figured he had about 45 seconds to save her life.
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