What happens when people die in the sky?
Last week I was on the longest flight I’ve ever taken; a 15-hour long haul from Singapore to San Francisco. I, being squished into the back, in a middle seat in row 48 out of 50ish total, also didn’t think it was the most comfortable flight I’d been on.
No biggie; I made do. I had just stirred from a shallow nap, snatched in the midst of hour 12.
What woke me was a flight attendant. I recognized her. She had been giving me incredulous looks every time I told her tomato juice was my in-flight beverage of choice.
She raised her voice. “Would any medical professionals please proceed to the back galley.
It turns out, there’s a LOT of medics. Well, flying internationally, at least. The guy right in front of me, who had been watching an episode of Game of Thrones (i definitely wasn’t peeking) paused the show and stood up. The woman across the aisle also volunteered. Within a minute, there was a group of 8 gathered right near me, quickly exchanging credentials; 4 EMTs, 3 RNs/PAs, and a pediatrician.
An orthopedic surgeon walked over from first class, saw how many people we had, and elected to return back front.
It soon became quite clear why they were gathered - in the middle of the cabin, an older woman was unresponsive; her husband, having just woken, wasn’t able to get her to stir.
Medical emergencies in flight aren’t uncommon; about one in 600 flights has one. If you’re a full time pilot, that means you’ll have one every couple years or so. But most of these emergencies aren’t super dangerous. The most common problems are fainting, (37.4%), respiratory symptoms (12.1%), and nausea or vomiting (9.5%).
Deaths are far more uncommon; occurring at average rates of 0.31 per million passengers, and 25.1 per million departures. But when they do happen, things get…weird. There’s not much space in planes, so they’ll often put the corpse in a body bag, and buckle it right back into the original seat.
Physician passengers provided medical assistance in 48.1% of in-flight medical emergencies.
In my case, it wasn’t a simple fainting spell. The crew and the medics slowly moved her from her seat, and laid her down in the back galley. I, a rubbernecker, turned to watch. I was surprised by how much stuff the airplane had stored. The EMTs were in their element; they began CPR, attached the AED, and put her on a saline drip, and even found some epinephrine.
The captain came on the PA, and said that we’d be proceeding onward to SF. Makes sense - we were still in the middle of the ocean; there’s not really anywhere else to divert to.
Behind me, I could hear the AED counting out loud. Begin compressions. 1…2…3… I could see the crew walking back and forth bringing things over.
But the flight went on. The baby behind me kept crying. The doc in front of me sat back down, and started up Game of Thrones again. The couple next to me cuddled up and started a Disney movie.
The flight attendants started a drinks service. A Karen in front asked for tea. “Ma’am, I’m afraid we don’t have any hot water right now.” Well why don’t you get it? “It’s in the back, and we can’t step in there right now.” I’ll be complaining to United!
Eventually, we began our final approach. The captain had declared an emergency, so we had priority to land. As we touched down, an ambulance began following us down the runway. When we rolled to a stop, everyone was, surprisingly, rather civil. Nobody stood up and started grabbing their luggage; everyone sat as the EMTs came on board.
They wheeled her out on one of those beverage carts. The woman looked small, swaddled by a pile of blue felt United blankets. The husband followed behind, carrying her luggage. It was pink, with a big Mickey Mouse sticker on it. Behind them stood more EMTs, and a customs official, there, I suppose, to check her passport when she wakes.
A couple minutes later, the pilot said we were clear to disembark. The guy in front paused GOT. The couple next to me took out their airpods. Everyone rushed to stand and squeeze into the aisle. One by one, we disembarked.