I Always Wanted to Marry a Rockstar
| I Always Wanted to Marry a Rockstar |
Recently, my husband Joe Seagram and his Firefighter partner Dave O’Laughlin received the Life Saving Award from the Order of St. John.
During a tennis match last year, they rushed to assist a fellow player, Alan, who had suddenly collapsed on a nearby court due to cardiac arrest. They immediately began CPR and used an automated external defibrillator. After 20 minutes and five shocks, Al’s heart started beating again.
The hospital staff later referred to Al as “the tennis miracle” because he made a complete recovery. They called Joe and Dave the Rockstars.
During a tennis match last year, they rushed to assist a fellow player, Alan, who had suddenly collapsed on a nearby court due to cardiac arrest. They immediately began CPR and used an automated external defibrillator. After 20 minutes and five shocks, Al’s heart started beating again.
The hospital staff later referred to Al as “the tennis miracle” because he made a complete recovery. They called Joe and Dave the Rockstars.
But as meaningful as that recognition was, it wasn’t the most important lesson from the evening.
At the reception, another award recipient shared his story. Despite 40 minutes of CPR, and without access to a defibrillator, the individual he tried to save did not survive. He admitted feeling uncomfortable accepting an award when the outcome had been so tragic.
His reaction struck a chord with me because I have heard similar sentiments from many first responders. They carry the weight of outcomes. They replay events in their minds. They wonder what they could have done differently. They feel responsible for losses that were never theirs to control.
A representative from St. John gently challenged that thinking. The purpose of the award, she explained, is not to recognize successful outcomes. It is to recognize action. It is about people stepping forward, using their skills, and giving another human being every possible chance.
That conversation stayed with us as we gathered for dinner with Al’s family afterward. We talked about the reality that first responders routinely answer calls where the ending is not the one anyone hoped for. Yet what many first responders may not fully appreciate is that their impact extends far beyond the patient.
For families, knowing that someone stepped forward matters. Knowing that someone used every skill they had, stayed present in the chaos, and fought for their loved one brings comfort that lasts long after the event itself. Whether the person survives or not, families remember those efforts.
Al’s wife refers to Joe and Dave as extended family. Another first responder shared that the family connected to a rescue attempt had invited him to reunions over the years. These stories remind us that success is not always measured by survival.
Sometimes the greatest gift first responders give is not a life saved, but the certainty that their loved one did not face their worst moment alone.
Trauma has a way of binding people together. So do acts of courage, compassion, and service. At Landing Strong, we see this every day. Together we regroup, heal, and find our new way forward.
Perhaps that’s what being a Rockstar really means.
At the reception, another award recipient shared his story. Despite 40 minutes of CPR, and without access to a defibrillator, the individual he tried to save did not survive. He admitted feeling uncomfortable accepting an award when the outcome had been so tragic.
His reaction struck a chord with me because I have heard similar sentiments from many first responders. They carry the weight of outcomes. They replay events in their minds. They wonder what they could have done differently. They feel responsible for losses that were never theirs to control.
A representative from St. John gently challenged that thinking. The purpose of the award, she explained, is not to recognize successful outcomes. It is to recognize action. It is about people stepping forward, using their skills, and giving another human being every possible chance.
That conversation stayed with us as we gathered for dinner with Al’s family afterward. We talked about the reality that first responders routinely answer calls where the ending is not the one anyone hoped for. Yet what many first responders may not fully appreciate is that their impact extends far beyond the patient.
For families, knowing that someone stepped forward matters. Knowing that someone used every skill they had, stayed present in the chaos, and fought for their loved one brings comfort that lasts long after the event itself. Whether the person survives or not, families remember those efforts.
Al’s wife refers to Joe and Dave as extended family. Another first responder shared that the family connected to a rescue attempt had invited him to reunions over the years. These stories remind us that success is not always measured by survival.
Sometimes the greatest gift first responders give is not a life saved, but the certainty that their loved one did not face their worst moment alone.
Trauma has a way of binding people together. So do acts of courage, compassion, and service. At Landing Strong, we see this every day. Together we regroup, heal, and find our new way forward.
Perhaps that’s what being a Rockstar really means.
Warmly,
Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong
