The six who saved Jiri Fischer

DETROIT-- Jiri Fischer's life was slipping away.

In a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, the young Red Wings defenseman would be gone.

Fischer, 25, collapsed in convulsions on the bench during a game Nov. 21. No pulse. No hope.

But a little luck and a collective coordinated effort from six individuals with one thing in mind -- saving Fischer's life -- turned a would-be tragedy into a heartbeat.

And hope.

Fischer is alive today -- and recuperating -- thanks to the quick actions of Wings team physician Tony Colucci, an emergency room physician; Wings trainer Piet Van Zant; orthopedic surgeon Douglas Plagens; Wings assistant trainer Russ Baumann; Bloomfield Hills police officer and trained firefighter Rick Szuber, and EMS medic Lynn LeAnnais.

"As you're walking down there, there's the thought that, 'Well, maybe he was light-headed and passed out. Maybe it's his mouth guard,' " Plagens said. "You're just getting your thoughts together.

"When I got to his side, which was probably just shortly after Tony got there, maybe 10 seconds, 15 seconds after it happened, there was no mistake because he was unresponsive at that point."

Small things, things that normally would seem inconsequential, became part of the larger picture.

The fact Colucci was seated within 10 feet of the bench and had nothing impeding his path to Fischer.

The fact that an AED (automated external defibrillator) was easily accessible.

The fact that Fischer collapsed on the bench and not the ice, speeding up the rescue effort.

The fact that no one involved panicked.

The first to attend to Fischer was Van Zant. "When I got to the other end of the bench, I realized it wasn't an obvious injury," Van Zant said. "I called for Tony (Colucci)."

Colucci was seated three rows behind the bench in Plagens' corner seat. "You're within a voice shot," Colucci said. "All I heard was, 'Tony!' and that was it. I didn't know what I was going to find, but that's what I heard."

Van Zant said Colucci "was starting to move before I actually called for him."

With no one in his way, Colucci jumped down into a small aisle and quickly reached Fischer -- about seven seconds from the time he heard his name to the time he reached the fallen player.

The rest of the participants also were in motion.

'It was Fish'

Plagens was not in the stands when Fischer went down. He was in the training room, about 30 feet away, watching the game on a closed-circuit monitor.

"When it happened, there was this yelling that this was happening," Plagens said. "Of course, the monitor wasn't on what was going on (on the bench), so I heard the yelling, and I came out down the hallway, and as I got about halfway down, I heard someone say it was Fish."

Fischer, a man known for his top-flight physical fitness, was fighting for his life.

And it was luck -- again -- that aided in the medical attention Fischer received.

Fischer's chest was in the wide area of the bench, with his feet tucked underneath the bench, giving the doctors ample room to work.

Colucci checked Fischer's neck for a pulse and could not detect one.

He told Van Zant to check Fischer's wrist.

No pulse.

Colucci described Fischer's coloring as ashen grey.

"We then started our emergency procedure," Van Zant said.

By that time, Baumann was on the scene, having witnessed the events from a television in the training room where he was working with injured players.

"Tony was the general, and we were the soldiers," Baumann said. "That's his daily life."

Van Zant and Baumann, as instructed by Colucci, swiftly went back to the training room to get oxygen and an ambu bag, a rubber bag attached to a mask to pump air into the lungs, essentially breathing for the patient.

They also called for a stretcher.

'Keep fighting, keep fighting'

Szuber was in the players' lounge when he saw the events unfolding on the big-screen television.

As a police officer/firefighter, Szuber is trained in life-saving techniques. He cleared the area outside the locker room in the event a stretcher was needed.

He rushed to the bench and administered the first mouth-to-mouth breaths to Fischer, while Plagens handled chest compressions.

Szuber said he gave one breath for every five compressions. This lasted about two minutes.

"Between breaths, I was trying to talk to him 'Come on, Fish. Keep going. Keep going,' " Szuber said.

After the initial compressions from Plagens, Colucci decided to cut Fischer's jersey and pads.

"I didn't think we were getting good enough compression because he was going through pads that are pretty thick," Colucci said.

Fischer was hardly responding.

"He had some agonal breathing (barely able to breathe)," Colucci said. "He had his mouthguard still on. I was trying to position his face, neck and head to get the airway open, and that's when I grabbed his mouth guard and took it out of his mouth I didn't want him to aspirate on his mouth guard."

LeAnnais, working the game that night, was at station No. 5 (there are five EMS stations at Joe Louis Arena) when she heard the commotion over the radio.

She went to the bench to see if there was anything she could do.

There was.

LeAnnais manned the control box for the AED, which was located behind the bench and was connected to Fischer's chest.

An AED is a computerized medical device that checks a person's heart rhythm and determines whether an electrical shock -- defibrillation -- is needed.

LeAnnais had to lean close to the machine to hear the computer voice that would advise if a shock was warranted.

"The AED went on, and then I remember (LeAnnais) said, 'Indication to shock,' and I go, 'Uh-oh, that's not good,' " Colucci said. "They shocked him, and I didn't feel a pulse. I know with my experience that you shock, you usually go asystole (no electrical activity in the heart, otherwise known as flat-lining), and that's exactly what happened -- he basically went asystole, he had idioventricular beats, like three in 24 seconds, so I started his chest compressions again.

"We stepped back again, they hit the button again and it said no indication to shock, so I thought, 'Does he have a pulse now?' I remember going to his head and feeling the carotid, and it was bounding like crazy. That's when I repositioned his head with the oxygen on. He took a big deep breath and he took another one, and I looked, and he's got a pretty defined neck, and you could see the carotid going like crazy. He took these real deep respirations."

Fischer never required an IV or the dosage of epinephrine that helps stimulate the heart.

The ambu bag was placed over Fischer's mouth, he was moved to a gurney and to the ambulance. Szuber held the ambu bag during the drive to Detroit Receiving Hospital.

"I talked to him and told him to keep fighting, keep fighting," Szuber said.

'Total team effort'

The only glitch during the rescue was a bus that was blocking the ambulance outside Joe Louis Arena.

"Always, you look back and you could critique a situation," Colucci said. "It would be on the arrogant side if I said I did it perfectly. But it went pretty well, especially with the result.

"There was no neurological deficit, no cardio deficit. He felt fine that night when he got to the hospital."

Since the event, the NHL has issued a leaguewide memorandum requiring team physicians to be seated within 50 feet of or within the first four rows behind the bench. They must have easy access to the ice, the bench and dressing room.

Baumann called the whole scene surreal and intense.

Van Zant said the emotions of the evening hit him as he drove home.

LeAnnais said everyone did what they were trained to do, but added that she hoped that would be the last time she faced a life-or-death situation like that.

"My friends have asked me was I stressed out?" Szuber said. "I said, 'No, you just do it. I was trained to do it.' Fish truly is such a nice guy, always smiling, always joking around.

"I was just trying to help a friend. We all were. It was a total team effort."