Jackson city worker saves life of toddler

Late Tuesday morning, Cory Gaines Jr. kept himself occupied by stumbling over a beach ball and bumping into things with his foot-powered three-wheeler.

One would never know that six days earlier, the blond, curious, always-on-the-move, 2-year-old boy was lying face down in a swimming pool, unable to breathe, his heart not beating.

Catherine Gaines, Cory's mother, still can't forgive herself.

She says she should have never left the ladder by the pool and should have never been far enough away from the pool where she couldn't see all sides.

As all parents do, Catherine made a mistake.

And as all 2-year-olds do, Cory, who is usually not allowed off the porch, disappeared in an instant.

Catherine, a baby sitter, had just gotten a couple of children out of the pool and was drying them off on the patio in the back yard. The pool was around the side of the house, just out of sight. She was visiting with Veronica Schearf, the mother of one of the children, when Cory disappeared.

At first, Catherine went inside the house. She looked all around, and by the time she reached the bathroom, she intuitively knew what happened.

Simultaneously, Catherine and Schearf, who had discovered Cory Jr. in the pool, let out shrieks, screams that could only mean one thing: Someone was hurt or dying.

"Cor-ree!" Catherine yelled.

Eric Welch, the next-door neighbor and a wastewater employee with the city of Jackson, heard the screams from inside his house, even though his windows and doors were shut. Welch, still recovering from a shoulder injury that has kept him from working, bolted out the door.

As Schearf was pulling Cory from the pool, Catherine yelled at her husband, Cory Sr., who was in the house, to call 911. Catherine then took her son into her arms, dropped to her knees and placed the child on the ground.

Cory was blue. Almost purple. His chest was still and Catherine couldn't feel a heartbeat.

Catherine knew CPR. She had memorized the "ABCs" of the emergency procedure. Airway. Breathing. Circulation.

Her every thought and movement paralyzed with fear, Catherine paused for a moment, trying to remember what the acronym meant. She couldn't remember.

She wasn't moving fast enough. That's when Welch interrupted.

Welch, who spent some time in the Marine Corps and has known how to perform CPR for a number of years, had a refresher course more than a year ago with the city. About two years ago, then-public works director Jim Roach required all public works employees to learn CPR.

Cory was lying on his side, so Welch flipped the boy on his belly and squeezed his abdomen. When Welch flipped Cory back over, there was vomit all over his face. Still no breathing. Still blue.

Welch wiped the vomit from Cory's face and breathed into his nose and face. He pressed on his chest.

Welch looked back down at Cory for a couple of seconds, an eternity.

Cory's eyes opened and he stared off in the distance, the "10-mile stare," Welch calls it.

"Talk to me, Cory!" Catherine yelled. "Say Mommy!"

A few moments after that, Cory's stomach contracted and he started breathing on his own.

Four minutes after receiving the 911 call, the Jackson Fire Department was on the scene. Cory was already breathing on his own and semi-alert by the time they arrived.

Cory spent the night in the hospital as a precaution. Tuesday, he was back to his normal, 2-year-old self, although he doesn't have a pool at his house anymore. His parents took it down.

City leaders proclaimed pride in Welch Monday night at the board of aldermen study session.

To Roach, Cory's story is an example of why the public works employees are taught CPR by the city fire department.

"A couple years ago, I just thought it would be a good idea," Roach said.

And even though Welch already knew CPR, refresher courses "help keep you sharp," he said.

Catherine is thankful Welch was sharp Thursday.

"I'm so thankful Eric was here," she said. "He's always been a great neighbor."

bmiller@semissourian.com

243-6635