By ZANNI LOUISE
A little boy, not quite three, goes into his grandparent’s studio where he often plays.
Through the glass door, he sees a toy floating in the pool outside.
He manages to unlock the door, and slips out.
Kneeling down, he reaches in to fish out the toy. He falls in.
He can’t swim.
Moments later, the boy’s mum is looking for him, calling his name. Then, she sees him, face down, floating in the water.
He is blue. Lifeless.
She yells for help, and dives in fully clothed to pull him out. His dad runs out from the kitchen, grabs the boy from his mother’s arms, and starts CPR.
The boy’s grandma calls 000. His father keeps pressing the boy’s chest, and breathing into his mouth.
Thirty seconds. The boy begins to regain colour.
His father keeps pressing.
Sixty seconds. The boy begins to breathe.
His dad keeps pressing.
Ninety seconds. The boy throws up, and starts balling.
The ambulance arrives, and the boy is rushed to ER. His body is covered in “owie” stickers attached to wires to monitor his heart.