Miracle On West Portal

There is a part of our brain called the amygdala, located in the temporal lobe, used to detect danger. It comes in handy as humans when we see or hear something our brain processes as a cue to switch on survival mode. I have felt this trigger several times in my life, but nothing as memorable as what happened on January 19th, 2024 on West Portal Ave., when I heard a faint scream coming from the street.

In 1917 San Francisco, a hole was burrowed through Twin Peaks, to take streetcars from the Castro into the flatlands and the hills on the other side. What followed the tunnel’s opening in 1918 were several booms of residential communities and a 3 block commercial strip. The commercial strip known as West Portal. Its a quaint little-town, main street feel, in a big city. This is where I work as an Art Instructor.

I’m Ryan, a Bay Area transplant who grew up in Southern California. I have worked at dozens of schools around the Bay Area. Around 9 years ago I found work at a private art school which teaches elementary school kids, teens and adults how to draw and paint. The school has been a pillar on West Portal, bringing many families to the neighborhood for nearly 30 years. The art school consist of 4 art studios, 3 of the studios are below street level and 1 studio is above street level overlooking West Portal Ave. On a typical Friday, I come in around noon to do some administrative and supply stocking duties. By the time its 3pm the school begins to come to life, as my colleagues run around the school preparing for the afternoon and night of art classes. It was raining that Friday, and my little students arrived, waddling into class with their cozy raincoats. The 1st class went as usual.

While getting ready for the teens’ art class, my coworker and I heard a short gasp and scream from outside. Screams and yelps are typical at the school, as younger kids are usually burning off energy before entering the class, or waiting to be picked up (they sometimes play tag or run around). Then I heard it again, so faint, yet it stabbed into my amygdala. I ran to the exit, telling my co-teacher I would be right back. The teens were beginning to arrive to my class as I ran passed them. Being the most senior staff member at the school that day I knew I needed to investigate. The art studio I was in, was the one that looked over West Portal Ave. The moment I walked outside onto the balcony walkway, I heard the scream again, it was an adult woman, in the street. A line of cars are always parked at meters right outside the school, shuffling around throughout the day as customers of the West Portal businesses, come and go. Outside I can hear her screaming loud and clear, for someone to help her dad and to call 911.

I raced down to the street and saw her father with his knees on the wet asphalt (it was raining) and his head in the driver seat of a parked car. His wife folded over him sobbing. They were all dressed nice, formal clothing, like they were either on their way to a nice dinner or just came from one. It broke my heart, and I was about to get emotional -but then, I think it was a culmination of Teacher mode Ryan (because I was at work), Residential Advisor experience I had during my college years, and my last CPR certification I got 7 years prior, that all kicked in. I immediately told the man’s wife I needed to see if he’s breathing, then pushed my way in to put my hand near his nose and mouth. The man was not breathing well. I pulled his chin down and he gasped once for air but then stopped breathing. While the daughter called 911, I knew I had to get him on his back, I knew we had to start CPR immediately to keep his vital organs oxygenated.

Onlookers were not sure if I should move him -but regardless, I kept hearing my CPR trainers voice in my head, “get them on a hard, solid surface, open the mouth to see if anything is obstructing, tilt head back and begin CPR”, I got him on his back, found the spot between his nipples and began chest compressions as deep as I can push, I knew I had to get at least two inches deep. I remember my CPR trainer said it is okay if I break a rib, because I have to pump the heart. I pushed against his chest harder, remembering from CPR training to get over him and use my weight to push down. John Travolta’s face flashed in my head, and I began singing the “Saturday Night Fever” song in my head that we learned to time the beat of chest compressions. I heard myself shout out the school address when I heard the man’s daughter on the phone, struggling to figure out where they were parked. I continued to push down.

He gasped for air. His face was still peachy, a good sign. I moved his tongue so he can take in more air in case he gasped again. The 911 dispatcher was on speaker. She counted with me 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. I continued to monitor his gasps waiting for when he may not gasp again and when I may need to breath air into his lungs. Then I felt the adrenaline kick in, it slowed down time and made me hyper aware, my pacing got fast, and the 911 dispatcher told me “count with me 1-2-3-4” I corrected my pacing “1-2-3-4” she said “keep counting out loud.” I counted. I knew the daughter’s adrenaline was high as well, when she exclaimed, frightened, where are ambulance, why were they taking so long, even though she literally just called for help. Time continued to feel like it was slowing down. My eyes absorbed everything, the man’s eye closed, his lashes, the other eye that was open but glazed over, the rain water trickling underneath his head, streaming around the asphalt texture beneath us. You have heard this over and over before, in emergency situations, that it feels like time stops, or that it seems like forever. I felt myself gasping for air between counting and compressing his chest. I noticed my pants were soaking wet, absorbing the rain that was pouring all around me. I saw the asphalt getting hit by raindrops, but the rain did not touch me. Somehow the raindrops were not hitting my back and did not fall on the man below me, was it a miracle?

I saw his daughter’s hand steadily holding her phone next to my head so the 911 dispatcher could count with me and talk to me. The dispatcher said to me “keep counting, keep going, you have to keep going, you cannot stop, DO NOT STOP.” I told her “I got this!” I remember in CPR training we learned about two hikers that saved their friend’s life by taking turns doing CPR on him for over an hour until the rescue team found them. In my head I said there’s hope, and out loud I said firmly 1-2-3-4 for the 911 dispatcher to hear me. About 20 minutes of chest compressions later, an onlooker was lined up and ready to give me a break if needed, and that’s when we heard the ambulance sirens.

I watched the medical responders getting ready to cut the man’s shirt open and that’s when I looked up and noticed a crowd had formed, I saw students and parents and people gathered. I realized a man had been holding an umbrella over me, nearly the entire time I gave CPR, to shield me from the rain. I wanted to hug the umbrella man. I wanted to hug the man on the floor who was getting emergency help, I wanted to hug his wife, and his daughter -but quickly remembered I had a classroom of kids and coworker waiting for me back inside. I told the ambulance team and the crowd, if there’s anything else I can do, let me know, but I have to get to class.

I stepped into work. My students gave me high fives and said “my parents said you saved that man’s life” and I replied “I hope so” that’s when the dread sank in. I kept thinking about death and that awful adrenaline, shaky feeling, was oozing all through my veins. I continued to teach art and comfort kids who were worried about the man. I kept thinking about him all day and night, and was trying to come to terms that I may never know what happened to him or his family.

The next day my coworker gave me a note with contact from the man’s sister. And I also received an email from the man’s sister who found my artist website online. I learned through the call that Tony was going to be alright, he received a pacemaker and is in recovery. His sister Lisa also informed me that their whole family had all just been together at their sister’s funeral that day (which explained their formal attire). The were celebrating the life of their late sister, and Tony took his wife and one of his daughters to pick up some more food for attendees of his sister’s funeral reception. And that was when the incident happened. Lisa said the doctor told her “without Ryan’s intervention. Tony would not have made it.” Lisa told me, that my actions not only saved Tony’s life, but the hearts of the 100’s of people who know and love Tony.

I have gotten so much praise for my actions from so many of my students, their parents, my family, and my coworkers… but as an educator, I know the real hero here is education. Education blooms, it inspires, it multiplies. It was my Residential Advisor Coordinators, and my CPR instructors, with their clear and engaging instructions that helped Tony that day. Everyday in life we have the ability to help someone. Always remember, to you, you may think you’re just holding an umbrella over them, but from their perspective, you are a miracle.