Kiss of life?

Today about marks the anniversary of my attempt to CPR someone back to life. I don’t particular remember the date, and it’s not because I don’t consider saving someone’s life important but because I didn’t. Before you conclude that I let someone die, I’ll recall the memory.

I was walking along the train station strategically coming up with the best point to get on the train to minimize the distance I’ll have to walk on the next train station until my exit. That’s when I nearly stepped on a man lying face down right next to the train tracks. There was something about the position of his body that distubingly reminded of the chalk lines so common in 50 Cent music videos. Forget about him going to go-go-go party like it’s his birthday, if he’s tattered clothes were any indication, it had been a long time since he’s had a warm place to sleep.

The initial shock of seeing this man started to wear off, and the need to help him kicked in. I assessed the environment- a crowded train station with tens of people walking past the man without another look. That was another shock, to see the indifference people had towards a man out of it. After about a minute of delay to calm the panic that was trying to take control, I knelt down beside the man to see him dribbling. Brushing that fact aside, I gently shook the man to see if he will wake from a slumber that happened to be in a weird place.

After no response, my response went straight to get someone to call for help – panic was long gone, replaced with a situation that direly needed me, no it was a man who needed me. I was going to rise to the call, and deliver to him the freshest oxygen he’s had in his life. I bent my ears down to his mouth and placed my hand on his neck – just the step before our lips would meet…

That’s when I felt a pair of hands push my face. I jumped back startled, and the once-thought-dead man rose sluggishly, giving me the pair of the evils of the likes I’ve never seen before. He started swearing at me,furious that I had woken him up from a peaceful dream. After telling me to “fuck the hell off” he at least walked off to the wall to fall back into sleep.

So the only person I saved that day was perhaps another naive Med student to walk by him minutes later. Upon story telling, my brother laughed at what he thought was an act of naiviety, and my mum was concerned that next time, an angry man may do more than just swear. But the whole night afterwards, all I could think is “What if he really did need someobdy?” People pay much more to save a life than moments of humiliation.

My male kiss virginity continues…