Is there a doctor on board?

So this is my first post from Peru, but I actually had a blog that I didn't finish that I'm going to post first as it seems fitting.

Flying back from Alaska after Thanksgiving break, I was enjoying some solo time on board the airplane. Flying for me is not hours wasted in boredom, but a beautiful reprieve from duty, conversation and the pursuit of recreation, all good things, but all good things to take a break from as well.

Shattering my solace and simultaneously revving up and relocating my heart to somewhere around my stomach, a voice came on the PA: "Is there a doctor on board? One of our passengers at the front of the aircraft is unconscious and needs assistance." Banish the thoughts of heroics that you see on TV and now imagine a medieval page training with a wooden sword and shield being sent off to face the dragon.

Naturally, I instinctively ducked my head, peering around the seat to see... no one in the aisle. I braced myself for a few seconds, praying that I was not the most qualified person on board and then unbuckled and started to walk up the aisle.

"Are you a doctor?" the flight attendant inquired, fittingly so as I was in "Alaska mode," a.k.a. unshaven and in comfortable clothes.

"No, but I am a 4th year medical student," I replied. I'm not sure how I missed it, perhaps the whole hiding incident, but she pointed out to me that a REAL doctor was already with the would-be patient. At this point I was committed, however, and still crept up to peer over his shoulder. All I could see of the patient was an arm, which was moving in a very non-seizuresque fashion. My ABCs ran through my head (Airway, Breathing and Circulation) and I realized that if any of those were missing, that arm would not be moving. Whew.

I offered my assistance to the doctor, who tacitly ignored me. I returned to my seat relieved. I may not have saved the day, but I DID later score a free cheeseburger from the grateful flight attendant.

(The patient turned out okay too)