Let’s set the scene: You’re at a family BBQ. Uncle Larry is telling the same dad joke for the fifth time—“I used to be a baker, but I couldn’t make enough dough.” You're trying to act like it’s funny, but you're mostly focused on the brisket. Suddenly, Larry clutches his chest, drops like a sack of potatoes, and faceplants right next to the potato salad.

Now, this could go two ways.

Option A: Everyone panics. Aunt Karen starts screaming, your cousin pulls out their phone to Google what to do, and your weird brother starts doing interpretive dance thinking he’s "keeping the energy calm." Meanwhile, Uncle Larry is still face-down in the coleslaw.

Option B: You spring into action like a caffeinated lifeguard on a trampoline. You call for someone to get 911 on the line. You check for breathing. No response. You drop down beside Larry, line up your hands in the center of his chest, and start chest compressions like you're auditioning for a CPR-themed action movie. Spoiler alert: You’re the hero now.

Let’s talk about why you want to be Option B.

CPR, short for Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, is the only time it is socially acceptable to push on someone’s chest like you’re trying to wake up an ancient video game console. And here’s the thing—it works. CPR, when done right and done fast, can literally bring someone back from the brink. Not just figuratively. Not like when your friend says "This coffee brought me back to life." We mean actual back-from-the-dead action. Lazarus levels.

But Is It Hard?

Nope! It’s surprisingly easy. In fact, if you can remember the beat to “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees—or for you younger generation, the “Baby Shark” song—you’re already halfway there. It’s 100 to 120 beats per minute—ideal for chest compressions. Don’t like disco or children’s songs? Fine. Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” works too—just maybe don’t sing that one out loud while performing CPR. It's a bit of a mixed message.. 

The First Time I Learned CPR

I’ll never forget my first CPR class. I showed up thinking it would be all glamorous and dramatic, like those scenes on TV where someone dramatically yells, “CLEAR!” and zaps a person back to life with paddles that look like the handles of a George Foreman Grill.

Nope.

First of all, there are no defibrillator paddles in CPR class. Just mannequins that look like they lost a fight with a curling iron and have no limbs. My practice mannequin was named “Annie,” and I’m pretty sure she stared into my soul while I pressed on her chest to the sound of a metronome. There’s something wildly humbling about being corrected by an instructor who says, “Imagine you’re trying to crush a soda can, but gently,” while you sweat through your shirt and try not to accidentally break Annie’s plastic ribs.

By the way, no one tells you how much of a workout CPR actually is. Thirty compressions in and you feel like you just bench pressed a Buick. My Apple Watch thought I was doing CrossFit. Still, it’s 100% worth it when you realize this is how you could save someone’s life. Also, CPR instructors never miss a beat (pun intended) to say, “Don’t stop until someone with more training takes over… or you collapse next to them—then at least you’ll get a sympathy fruit basket.”

Real Talk: When It Happens in Real Life

CPR isn’t just for medical dramas or random mannequins named Annie. Cardiac arrests happen. In homes, gyms, Walmarts, at awkward family events where everyone was just pretending to like each other until someone keels over. And 70% of those cardiac arrests? They happen at home. That means the person you save might be your kid, your spouse, or—yes—even Uncle Larry and his terrible jokes.

Now, imagine you’re standing there, knowing what to do. Your brain goes into, “I’ve got this” mode. You push hard, push fast, and you don’t stop. EMTs arrive. They take over. Later, you find out Larry made it. And now? He’s telling people you saved him with your bare hands. You didn’t need a cape. You didn’t need superpowers. You just needed a little training and a beat in your head. (Stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive…)

The Takeaway

CPR isn’t rocket science. It’s rhythm, guts, and about 2 inches of chest compression. You don’t need a Ph.D. You don’t need to have watched every episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You just need the courage to act when someone drops next to the dessert table.

So sign up for that CPR class. Learn how to be someone’s best (and possibly only) chance. And if nothing else, it’s a great story starter:

“Oh, this scar? I got it saving a guy’s life. With disco music.”

Bonus Pro Tip: If you ever find yourself doing CPR and someone starts filming for TikTok, make sure they at least get your good side. And have them tag you. #CPRHero

Final Words:
Be the person who knows what to do—not the one who panics and yells, “Does anyone here know CPR?” while standing next to three nurses and a firefighter. Learn it. Practice it. Use it if you need to. It’s the only chest-thumping action that comes with applause instead of jail time.

And hey—Uncle Larry might even buy you dinner for it.