Emergency at Sea: The Race to Save Keith
Right now, I’m doing everything I can to gather information about the symptoms Keith is experiencing. He was yelling and screaming, then suddenly fell. He wasn’t coherent for a few seconds, and when I reached him on the other side of the Wheelhouse, his left arm was going numb. Oh my God… that’s a stroke.
“I’m not arguing with you right now. No usual hold, and guess what, I’m not talking to you right now,” I say, trying to stay focused.
“Are you okay, bro? Talk to me, are you alright?” I keep asking, but the fear in my voice is evident.
“Hey bro, are you okay? Cody, come in here, I need a hand up here.”
Cody comes in to help, but Keith insists he’s fine, trying to get up on his own. His condition, however, is worsening.
“Left side’s not good right now,” I say, making quick decisions. “We need to check his blood pressure. Get the nitro. His pulse is off.”
Keith insists he’s okay, but it’s clear something’s terribly wrong. The urgency is palpable. We’re calling the vessel manager in Seattle to get more advice. Keith was sitting at the table, and suddenly he screamed and collapsed. His left side was tingling, but he insisted he was fine. But I can see it’s worse than he thinks.
“I think the prudent thing is to head to St. Paul,” I tell the manager. “It’s 65 miles away, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
The weather is working against us. The wind from the southwest is the worst direction, but we can’t afford to wait. We have to move fast.
We’re now talking to the Coast Guard, giving them details. Keith’s symptoms are clear: incoherence, numbness in his arm… it’s a stroke. We can’t risk it. I’ve made the decision. We have to get him to St. Paul.
“Is there a chance we can get into the harbor safely?” I ask, but the situation is far from ideal. The waves and winds are making the approach dangerous.
The doctor’s on the line. “It sounds like a mini stroke,” he warns. “Do you have his heart rate?” The pressure is mounting as I relay the details. I’m told to watch for the signs. The uncertainty is making it harder to stay calm, but we can’t back down now.
After speaking with the Coast Guard and the doctor, the decision is made: We have to take Keith to the harbor. But getting in is a challenge. The waves are harsh, and the harbor’s entrance is narrow. I’ve been through here countless times, but the timing is everything. We need precision.
We’re approaching the harbor. The swell is huge, the boat is difficult to steer, and the tension is high. Every second counts. The crew is holding it together as we fight the waves.
Finally, we reach the dock, and the medical team is ready. “Can someone grab him? Get him to safety,” I call out. The crew is tight, working together, pulling him out of the boat, and bringing him to the responders.
“Keith, you’re going to be alright,” I say, relief finally hitting me as we hand him off.
The storm hasn’t passed, but we’ve made it. Keith is in good hands now, and we’ve done everything we can to get him the help he needs. The race to save him was intense, but we made it through.
