Slumped on the pavement, she wasn’t breathing – and I wouldn’t have realised if I’d been listening to music as usual. Time to stop blotting out the world …
F
or years I walked the streets of London wearing noise-cancelling headphones, absorbed in playlists, politics podcasts or long voice notes from friends, and a million miles away from wherever I was. One damp January evening last year, I was walking home from my parents’ house, headphones dead in my bag, when I noticed a small figure slumped on the pavement with her eyes closed. I might not have noticed her had I been in my own world, fixated on what was playing in my ears.
I asked for her name. “Can you hear me?” I tried several times, my voice tightening. She didn’t respond, and worse, she didn’t seem to be breathing. My mind raced back to the one first aid class I took in school, but drawing a blank and worried that I might get it wrong, I dialled 999 and frantically tried to figure out if I could feel her pulse.
The call handler talked me through what to do: lie her down, compress her chest in time to a count, and keep going. The stranger took a breath and I heard sirens. Once the paramedics arrived and she could say her name, it was my cue to leave. I raced to the station, full of adrenaline, and jumped on the wrong train.
