The Adventures of Super Emily Read online

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  ADVENTURE IN THE SKY

  The plane shuttered and the left wing dipped.

  That's not good, I thought. We were three hours into a flight from Calgary to Halifax. I put my face against the glass and looked out the window. We were flying at 35,000 feet with a good tail wind. Up until now everything had been great. I had watched the green and yellow checkerboard design of the prairies passing underneath us; the tiny, blue dotted lakes of northern Ontario surrounded by the green of the trees; and the cottony white of the clouds billowing passed as we flew through them from time to time.

  But now something was different. The plane seemed to be losing altitude ever so slightly. The flying motion seemed to be a little jerky. I felt a presence at my side and turned to see the blue-uniformed stewardess standing there leaning toward me. A red scarf was loosely knotted around her neck over a sparkling white blouse. Concern was written all over her face.

  "Emily, thank goodness you're on board," she said. "I was checking the passenger manifest for a doctor. What a relief it was to see your name on the list. Could you come up to the cockpit?" She anxiously looked around at the other passengers. It was obvious she was trying not to upset them.

  "What's wrong?" the man across the aisle asked. He had heard every word the stewardess had said.

  "Everything's fine," she answered. The painted, professional smile was in full bloom on her face. He wasn't convinced.

  "Tell me," he said. He looked around at the other passengers for support.

  "It will be all right," I told him before he had a chance to upset anyone else. His whole attitude changed. The relief was evident. He smiled at those around him.

  "Everything is okay," he assured them. They returned his smile with blank stares. No one else had overheard the stewardess’s words. The other passengers went back to reading their magazines, doing their puzzles or just napping.

  I crawled across Grandma’s empty seat and joined the stewardess. Grandma told me she was going to check out the facilities. I think she had to pee.

  I reached back and grabbed my kit from the seat tray. Together, the stewardess and I hurried up to the front of the plane and through the security door. Illuminated dials and gauges looked down at us from every available spot on the walls of the cockpit. Most gave off an eerie yellow-green light. I looked around the big, high back chair to my left. There was the pilot slumped over in his seat, his face ashen.

  The copilot was flying the plane but I could see that he was shaken by the sight of his unconscious captain. His attention was more on the pilot than on the instruments. He looked at me and explained what had happened.

  "He was just fine a minute ago. We were discussing who was more famous: Scooby Doo or Dora the Explorer, and then bam, he clutches his chest, lets out a moan and then he’s hanging from his seat belt and lying face first in the controls." The copilot’s coloring matched that of the pilot’s.

  "We think he’s had a heart attack," the stewardess told me. "It's a good thing you were a passenger. Can you help us out?"

  It was a silly question. Helping people out is my most favorite thing to do. I put my hand on the copilot’s arm. "You concentrate on the flying, I’ll take care of your friend."

  Almost at once I noticed the plane straighten out and could feel it flying smoother.

  I checked the pilot for a pulse. It was there, barely.

  I turned back to the copilot. "If you need a break, let me know."

  My attention returned to the stricken pilot. He was in bad shape. I quickly scanned his body to see if anything else was wrong. There was nothing, just his heart. I ran over the options in my mind. There were not many of them. Open heart surgery may be the only choice. At 35,000 feet in a small, crowded cockpit, surgery would be a challenge.

  I checked my pockets to see what help was available. With these new security rules, I didn't even have my fingernail clippers. I did have some gum. Double Bubble. That might help a bit.

  I reached up and scratched my head, trying to think of a quick solution to the problem. My fingers struck something metal. It was a bobby pin. Great. My grandma told me you could fix anything with a bobby pin and baler twine. She lived on a farm.

  I had no baler twine but that was no problem. I didn't know what it was anyway. I flipped open my kit and inventoried the contents. There were pencils, crayons, markers, paper dolls, puzzles – everything one needs when flying – and then, exactly what I was looking for: my pencil sharpener. I had managed to get something through airport security that would create an incision. Quickly, I undid the screw holding in the blade. The silver metal reflected in the low cabin light. I checked the edge for sharpness. It would do. I had everything I needed to operate. I turned to the stewardess.

  "Go get my Grandma. She's seated in 8D. I need her help. She should be back from checking out the facilities by now. I just hoped she washed her hands. Put some water on to boil while you're at it."

  The stewardess scurried away to carry out my commands. Grandma knew first aid as well. Between the two of us, we would get the pilot fixed up. I lifted an eyelid and checked the pupil of his eye.

  "Hang in there, my friend. You’re in good hands." Modesty has its place but not when you are trying to reassure a dying man. He only wants to hear that he’s about to get the best possible care in the world. Well, in this case, he was about to get the best care on this airplane and that would be good enough.

  While I waited, I listened to the pilot's chest. It's the right ventricle, I concluded from the gurgling sounds I heard there. Something was restricting the flow of blood in that part of the heart. I’d check out his diet when we got on the ground. He was in for some lifestyle changes. I gave the copilot a reassuring smile.

  "You’re doing a great job."

  He nodded his appreciation and focused on his task even more.

  I left the cockpit to wash up. I met Grandma and the stewardess as they came through the galley.

  "The soup needs a little more salt," I advised. The stewardess reached up in the cupboard to get some. She added a little and then offered me a taste. I declined.

  "You decide," I told her. I didn’t want to undercut her opinion of herself as a cook.

  I scrubbed my hands and prepared to operate. The pencil sharpener blade would make an incision in the chest wall above the heart and then open a small slit in the artery. With the curved end of the bobby pin, I would clean out any plaque built up there and then seal the hole in the heart with my bubble gum. It would take some time but it was a long flight. We were traveling all the way to Nova Scotia. I popped a stick of gum into my mouth to get it ready. I blew a couple of bubbles while I waited. Blowing bubbles calms my nerves.

  Grandma and the stewardess got the pilot laid out on the cockpit floor. I looked at the other two ladies. They waited expectantly.

  "Let’s do it."

  The copilot looked down at me.

  "There’s not going to be any blood is there?" he asked. "The sight of blood makes me queasy."

  I looked up into his face. It had been pale before but now it was as white as the clouds swirling by the window beside him. I knew I might have to take over flying the plane as well. Flying the plane was not the problem. It was your standard, basic, 150 seat passenger jet. I could keep it in the air as long as the fuel held out. I just couldn't land it. My feet didn't reach the pedals. I'm only eight, after all. It was imperative that I revive the pilot.

  "I’ll try to keep the bleeding to a minimum. In the meantime you keep all your attention out the front windshield and think happy thoughts. Hum your favorite tune."

  "Got it," he said as he focused on his flying and started humming a Beatles tune. We were no longer in his world.

  Grandma reached up and opened the little door above the pilot’s seat. She pulled down the oxygen mask housed there and gave a yank on the cord. Oxygen started to flow. The stewardess nodded her approval. Grandma had done it exactly as instruct
ed. She placed the mask over the pilot’s mouth and motioned to me that it was time to begin.

  I sterilized the bobby pin and the blade in the boiling water and went to work. The stewardess had a hot towel and continually wiped my brow as I concentrated on the task before me. The hot towel felt really good. In an hour and a half the operation was completed. The gum had lost all its taste long before that but still served to plug the hole in the artery. A band aide closed the chest incision. Now all we had to do was start up the heart again.

  Beside the pilot's seat was a flashlight. I removed the batteries and put one on each side of his heart. Then, holding the batteries, I touched my thumbs together. He twitched and started to smile. Grandma removed the oxygen mask. The pilot breathed on his own. The operation was a success. I tapped the copilot on the shoulder.

  "The operation is over," I said. "Please stop humming those golden oldies. Don’t you know any modern songs? Haven’t you ever heard of Nickleback. Give a kid a break here."

  He smiled shyly at me.

  We got the pilot back into his seat. I briefed him about how far we had traveled while he was out and pointed to the Bay of Fundy below.

  "No problem," he said. "I can take it from here."

  "What about the copilot," I asked. "He’s doing a fine job."

  "I’m the captain. I land the plane."

  The copilot was hesitant about giving up the controls.

  "Shouldn’t he rest a bit? That was major surgery, wasn’t it?" he asked.

  "Yes, but it’s important for him to get back into the saddle, so to speak," I said. When I operate, I try to make it as noninvasive as possible. I keep the incisions small. I pointed to the band aide holding the cut in the chest closed.

  "See, there is only a small drop of blood. He can fly."

  The copilot looked at the operating site and fainted. The captain shook his head.

  "He has always had a weak stomach for medical things," he explained in defense of his cabin mate. He did up his shirt, thanked me and took over the plane. Gripping the controls was the final step in his recovery. A pilot is only happy when he is flying. You could see it on his face.

  "One more thing," I said before leaving the cock pit.

  "What’s that?" he asked.

  "You’ve got to start eating more vegetables, especially the leafy green ones." I pointed to the Macdonald’s wrapper in the garbage can. "And ease back on the red meats."

  Grandma and I made our way back to our seats. The man across the aisle gave me an anxious look. I raised my thumb in the air and smiled. Relief swept over his face.

  I sat in my seat and could feel the stewardess’s hand on my shoulder. She gently shook me as if I had fallen asleep.

  "Wake up, sweetie and put your seat upright," she said. "We're about to land."

  Of course, she was pretending there had been no major drama taking place in the cockpit. I looked at her and winked.

  She returned the wink. This would be our secret. There was no reason to worry any of the other passengers. The pilot was fine for now. The gum would hold, at least until we were on the ground.

  I wiped some sleep from my eyes. That was a convincing touch for the other passengers. I noticed a bowl of soup on my tray. I pried off the top and dipped in my spoon. It was not very hot but had just the right amount of salt. Again I gave the stewardess the thumbs up. Again she returned my smile before taking the soup away and returning my tray to the upright position. We were a team.

  The plane landed safely in Halifax, a perfect three point landing. The pilot was back in command. Still, I would check to see if he was flying on the return trip. If he was, I would take the train.