What are the Odds?

January 29, 2012

With approximately 4000 people onboard a ship for twelve days, the odds are high that an occasional incident requiring some form of emergency response will happen. All ships have a series of codes that are used to communicate to ship’s response teams that an incident has occurred mandating the appropriate response. With a passenger contingent this time of year that is generally much older, as families with children are limited by school, it is predictable that there will be a certain number of medical incidents on each voyage.

What is fairly unusual is that one crew member would encounter two of those in only three days. How did I get so lucky?

The first happened on Turnaround day. My responsibilities on that day begin by helping greet new sign-ons in ‘the tent’ at the dock in Bayonne, and escorting them onto the ship for their orientation.  Needless to say, I’m in and around the gangway quite often. As I finished bringing on our second group of 30 new crew members, one of the security personnel asked if I could escort one of our sign-offs from the ship. Since I was herding my group of 30 onto Silhouette, I made a quick call to Dwight to see if he was available. He told me that he was gathering those signing off who were flying out of JFK in the crew mess, and he would take them off ship in about ten minutes. Equipped with that information, I informed the departing crew understood me, as there was a complete lack of comprehension in his eyes. Given the diversity of primary languages onboard, I prepared to repeat my instructions more slowly and with simpler language. But just as I started my second request, he grabbed his roller bag and bolted by me in a great hurry.

As he passed, I realized the reason for his impaired comprehension. Someone had started their leave a little too early. The odor of alcohol was intense. I started to follow him to ensure he traversed the corridor safely, but was too late. As he turned to proceed down the I-95 he cut the corner too close catching his right foot on the doorway. As he disappeared around that edge I could tell that his motion was not only proceeding vertically, but horizontally, as well. With no attempts to break his fall, he did a dramatic face plant on the deck. Did I mention that the decks are made of steel?

I raced around the corner sure that he would be unconscious. Another crew member reached him at the same time and we were stunned that he was trying to stand up. We placed our hands on his back and told him to lie still while we summoned the medical team, but with surprising strength and intense passion he pulled away and started trying to run down the main corridor. By this time my phone was already in one hand dialing the emergency number while with the other I locked onto his left arm and reduced his pace to a controlled stroll. Fortunately the crew mess was only about ten more yards and I steered him there while completing my report to the bridge. Already a large knot was forming on his forehead. Seconds later I heard the medical response code announced and in less than a minute both security and medical were at my side. Duty done, report complete, I headed back to my charges slightly surprised that I had been on the ship less than a month and had called in an emergency, something most crew members will never do.

Even fewer do it twice . . . especially not in three days. Last evening I was preparing to do my guest encounter walk-around when I heard the medical emergency code announced over the PA, once again. Since many guests are curious when they hear these obscure codes, we have a standard response that we give to assure them that there is no risk to them, and that it is an incident that requires the response of a small team of trained crew. Three minutes later I entered the guest area, and after a quick tour of the Deck 3 lobby I proceeded up to Deck 4 in front of the Grand Cuvee Dining Room. I stopped briefly to greet a guest when another gentleman urgently called to me. As I turned to identify the problem, I saw a guest sitting on the staircase slumped against the railing. The well-trained process, perfected by use in an actual crisis two days earlier, resulted in an instinctual response. I dialed the emergency number once again as I attended to the guest. The befuddled bridge officer asked if this was a second report on the same incident that had just been reported in Grand Cuvee. When I assured him it was not, he replied with a heavy sigh. “Is she conscious?” he asked. Fortunately she was, apparently just suffering dizziness from dehydration so he told me he would simply dispatch a nurse with a wheel chair. Five minutes later the guest was in a wheelchair, her husband had been found, and I escorted them and the nurse to the Medical Facility.

With two medical emergencies in three days, is it a wonder that my teammates now wish to steer clear of me?

The adventure continues . . .