“Tracey, you have to go help. You know what to do!”
Hearing my friend’s urgent statement and feeling her shove on my shoulder, my first impulse was to whirl around denying, “Not me! I’m no expert.” But I was already out of my chair making my way through the patio tables and gawking patrons. A woman was leaning in distress over her slumped and unresponsive elderly companion. Another concerned diner was holding the birdlike lady in a bear hug from behind, his arms locked below her ribcage, delivering his best version of the Heimlich maneuver.
“Has someone called 911?” was my emphatic entry into the fracas.
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