A life saved, a life changed: Orwigsburg man grateful to officer for quick actions
Jul. 17—Tim Osborne was making breakfast on April 30, preparing for a round of golf at the Schuylkill Country Club.
It would be the last thing he would remember for a day or more.
"I heard a thud," recalled Candy Osborne, who rushed to the kitchen to find her husband of 40 years unconscious on the floor.
"I called his name, and pounded on his chest," she said, recalling the frightful first moments before she dialed 9-1-1.
Officer Robert "Bobby" Bechtel was on routine patrol in Orwigsburg when he heard the dispatch from the Schuylkill County Communications Center. As fate would have it, he was only moments away from the Osborne house in the Ridgeview development.
"I repositioned him, took his shirt off and hooked up the AED (automated external defibrillator)," Bechtel recalled. "It advised me to shock, which I did, and started CPR."
Bechtel, a nine-year veteran of the force, repeated the procedure before being relieved by Orwigsburg firefighters trained in lifesaving techniques.
It would be weeks before Osborne, 74, a retired salesman, would piece together the events that took place during the hours he teetered on the brink of eternity.
While he owes a debt of gratitude to numerous first responders, paramedics, nurses and doctors, Osborne says Bechtel's intervention at a critical moment made all the difference.
Osborne publicly acknowledged Bechtel's efforts Wednesday in an emotional tribute at an Orwigsburg Borough Council meeting, where Mayor Barry Berger presented Bechtel with the police department's Life Saving Award.
Pausing several times to regain composure, Osborne declared, "This gentleman saved my life."
Filling in the blanks
In the 2 1/2 months since his heart attack, Tim Osborne has been piecing together the events surrounding his crisis.
With Osborne standing only feet from where he lay on that fateful day, Bechtel provided stunning details that few seriously stricken people get to hear.
"You had a faint pulse, then you didn't, then you did," the officer said. "I was hoping that you'd make it to the hospital to give your wife and loved ones a chance to say goodbye while you were still with us."
Osborne's face lit up when Bechtel said, "A few hours later I got a call saying that you had made it, and were mad because you had a tube down your throat."
Wearing a grateful smile, Osborne acknowledged: "I was mad, my chest hurt so bad. You cracked my sternum and three ribs. When I woke up, I said this hurts, who hit me? I was very unhappy."
When Osborne originally made the comment, he was in St. Luke's University Hospital in Bethlehem, where he had been flown by helicopter following triage in Geisinger St. Luke's Hospital, Orwigsburg.
He has no memory of anything that happened from the moment he was stricken to when he awoke in Bethlehem.
In a touching recollection, Candy noted the seriousness of her husband's condition while at Geisinger St. Luke's.
Osborne's family anxiously awaited news of his condition in the hospital waiting room.
"They called us in, and you were semi-conscious," she said to her husband. "An EMS person or a doctor said to you: If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. Nothing. If you can hear me, wiggle your toes. Nothing."
She continued: "Then, I said, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand. And you did. If you can hear me, wiggle your toes. And you did. There you were, alive."
Prayer and a policeman
Weeks of rehabilitation followed Osborne's heart attack.
It was during one of those sessions that it became clear just how close he had come to death.
"When he came into the room, the doctor kept looking at me," Osborne recalled. "I said, 'why are you looking at me that way?' "
The doctor said to me: "Mr. Osborne, try to understand, when we get a patient after 10 minutes, they have a 10 percent chance of survival. After that, they lose another percent every minute."
In other words, after 20 minutes there's little hope of surviving a massive heart attack.
Struggling to comprehend, Osborne confided, "I was a little over 20 minutes when I arrived in Bethlehem."
Parsing the situation, Osborne said there were two reasons why he survived — an alert police officer and prayer.
"It goes to the speed of this man getting blood to my brain," he said, placing his hand on Bechtel's shoulder. "I don't think that happens too often."
Osborne's voice strained as he recounted how his pastor, Doug Cresswell of Faith Worship Center, Orwigsburg, led his family in prayer at Geisinger St. Luke's.
"He was told it didn't look good for me, and he got his butt down to the hospital fast," Osborne said. "That's when all the praying started."
Bechtel confided that he said a prayer on the way to Osborne's house.
"We feel strongly," Candy said, "that there was some kind of intervention."
Osborne was a bit more direct in his assessment.
"All I can say is that, in addition to officer Bechtel, there was another pair of hands that made me survive."
A life changed
Of late, Osborne has noticed that family members stare at him and get a little teary-eyed.
At DiMaio's Mustard Seed Cafe recently, he noticed one of the servers staring at him. She introduced herself as Brittany Hawley, a volunteer medic, who said she worked on him.
"That's one of the great things about living in a small town," Osborne said. "It's a place where people care enough to volunteer for the betterment of everyone."
Post-heart attack, Tim Osborne said he's a changed man.
The first thing I take away from it, he said, is what are his responsibilities now.
"I'm alive, though maybe I shouldn't be," Osborne said. "So, if I got saved beyond what should have been my time, how am I going to use that time?"
He's already involved in the community as a member of Team Orwigsburg and a volunteer at the food bank in St. John's UCC, Orwigsburg.
Yet, he's determined to do more.
"I can't play golf or go to the beach and relax without a lot of giving back," Osborne insists. "Maybe like bettering somebody's life who is not as fortunate as we are."
Contact the writer: rdevlin@republicanherald.com; 570-628-6007
