After Gary Hobish collapsed while swing-dancing with friends in Golden Gate Park Sunday, a fellow dancer raced to the nearby de Young Museum in search of a defibrillator. Most people in the group knew Hobish, 70, had a heart condition. Seconds counted.
Inside the museum, Tim O’Brien found himself pleading with a staff member to let him use the life-saving device, or to accompany him back to where Hobish, a legend of the Bay Area music scene, lay unconscious. O’Brien offered the museum staffer his wallet and his watch as collateral.
The museum staffer checked with his boss, but the answer was firm: The de Young defibrillator could not leave the building.
O’Brien sprinted empty handed back to the group, where a doctor who had luckily been on the scene was administering CPR. Paramedics arrived a few minutes later, but by then nearly 10 minutes had gone by, O’Brien said.
But I’m sure it wouldn’t interest anybody outside of a small circle of friends
Can you imagine?
“Listen up mother fucker, give me your wallet or I’ll defibrillate you! Just come over here, open your shirt, let me apply these electrodes, wait for the thing to start… bypass the onboard software that says you’re not out of rhythm and thus it will not send a charge…”
I’m just picturing running around with one of those hospital crash carts, supercharging myself like Jason Statham in Crank
I’m imagining Robert Evens fighting the FDA with an arsenal of defibrillators from his compound, juiced up and raring to go