This is what happens when you don't attend Mass regularly

This morning we got it into our minds that we should go to church. So, we made our way to 9:30 Mass at St. Michael's, the only Catholic church here in Oly.

This Church is decidedly post-Vatican II. I never realized how deep-rooted my Catholic upbringing was until we entered the church and I immediately started panicking because I saw neither a tabernacle nor a crucifix on the altar. Should I genuflect or not??? (I didn't.)

The Mass was pretty uneventful, other than lots of singing, with groovy guitar- and tambourine-accompaniment. I didn't recognize any of the songs, except the last one. Actually, I didn't recognize it; the melody just sounded a lot like Dave Brubeck's "Take Five."

There were many participatory activities, too. Like introducing yourself to your neighbors and raising your hands to bless kids, Catholics-in-training, etc. We are generally uncomfortable with that kind of participation. It puts us outside of our comfort zone, which, within the perimeters of Catholic worship, is pretty much limited to the memorized responses and the standard sit-stand-kneel calisthenics. (Did I mention there were no kneelers, either?)

Anyhow, we decided to forego the post-Mass coffee-and-doughnut fellowship and the new-member orientation tour. So, we had exited the church and were returning to our car when this woman walking in front of us just collapses and kind of crumples onto the sidewalk.

It was strange; she was walking with a little girl when she collapsed, but the child just looked at the lady lying on the ground, then disappeared after that. Was it her daughter? I don't know. I never saw her again.

Well, there weren't many other people around, and those that were around just watched with curiosity.

So, I kicked into my newly acquired CPR-training mode: "Are you OK? Are you OK? Somebody call 911!" I thought I yelled it, but SMH told me later, all he heard me say was, "Steve???!" Which, luckily, he read as, "Call 911!"

And, literally, as I was mentally reviewing my First Aid to-do list (Check breathing. Check pulse...), I thought to myself:

This is most certainly my punishment for:
a) Making light of my CPR training a few weeks ago, and
b) Not actively participating in Mass today (or, um, not going to Mass at all since we've been here).

And then I thought, "Please God, don't punish her for my being an a**hole." And immediately after that, I thought, "Also, God, please don't punish her for my use of bad language."

The lady had a pulse and was breathing, but she was not conscious. For a few minutes, I was the only one "helping" her, though a small crowd quickly gathered around us. ("Helping" is a stretch; I just kept talking to her and holding her hand). She eventually regained consciousness and squeezed my hand, but she was unable to speak more than a few words and was really out of it. Oh, and her English was not very good at all, so that kind of put a wrench in our communications.

Luckily, a doctor (St. Mike parishioner) came on the scene, followed by an EMT (another St. Mike parishioner). And shortly after SMH made the call, firefighters and EMT arrived and took over.

The whole thing took probably 10 or 15 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. And it really shook me to the core because it made me think, if I had really had to perform CPR, would I have been able to do it? Would I have been able to keep a clear head? I'm not sure. It is weighing heavily on my a**hole mind.