The 16-year-old trainee hairdresser performed CPR on mum Lisa after she collapsed with a choking and coughing fit. She swiftly put her in the recovery position and called for an ambulance.
Then, her 13-year-old brother swallowed his tongue and she saved his life by performing the Heimlich Maneuver.
In both instances, the teenager remained calm and saved their lives. She will receive the Annie Dow Heroism Award and £2,500 at a ceremony in Edinburgh next month.
See The Daily Star article.
Bravery is defined as 'courageous behavior or character'.
synonyms: courage, courageousness, pluck, pluckiness, braveness, valor, fearlessness, intrepidity, daring, audacity, boldness, dauntlessness, stout-heartedness, heroism, gallantry.
Courage is the ability and willingness to confront fear, pain, danger, uncertainty, or intimidation. Wikipedia.
To keep your head when others are losing theirs. The 16-year-old certainly did that. Had she hesitated, her mother and her brother's lives would have been lost.
Here's an example of a similar instance from the final novel in the series, as yet unpublished. In my Moonstone series of novels, the main character Liliha, wears a ring which gives her the ability to enter the mind of other people far away and advises them in a time of need.
By the way, you can click on any cover on the sidebar to visit an Amazon page near you and read opening chapters.
In this excerpt, Liliha acts like that little voice we all have inside, and she whispers encouragement to a small boy.
* * *
With the word 'Mum' reverberating, I arrive inside the familiar fog. After bright morning sunshine penetrates the gloom, I descend into the kitchen of a suburban house.
A boy of about ten years, in obvious distress, stands behind a woman sitting at the table.
I meld with him, and adjust to his comprehension.
His name is Jack and he's panicked about his mother whose upper body is jerking over a plate on the table. From our mouth comes a high call. Jack knows what's wrong. He learned what to do at school three days earlier. "Mom." We lean to one side of her head to check her red face and her flushed lips which are taking on a bluish hue with each gasp.
He hesitates, unsure of his ability.
I whisper, 'Use the maneuver. Now.'
We stretch our short arms to encircle her waist from behind. Making a fist with one little hand, we grasp it with the other, and then give a sharp upward thrust. She lifts her head from the plate of half-eaten breakfast of bacon and sausages, but continues to choke.
He's so small, and I can't give physical assistance. I issue encouragement to use more force.
We whimper, drag in a shuddering breath and glance at the door.
'You're not alone. I'll help you,' I whisper. I concentrate all my inner strength on his effort.
We grit our teeth and jerk her midriff several more times. She stiffens. A piece of food shoots out of her mouth and lands on the plate. She sucks in a great breath, her face red and clammy.
"Wait, Mom. I know what to do." We push her sideways off the chair and grab her arm. In a desperate struggle of flailing limbs, we help her lie on the floor. She bangs her knee. "Sorry, Mom." All elbows, we turn her onto her side to the recovery position. She coughs in several weak bursts.
'Well done.' I whisper. 'But she needs expert help.'
"Thank you, God," we whisper. "Hold on, Mom." We grab the phone from the bench with trembling fingers and punch the emergency number. Our arms are shaking, but I absorb his pride about remembering his lesson from the First Aid course.
I remain until the siren sounds in the distance.
* * *
Years ago, Liliha had helped her mother when she'd suffered chest pains. Ambulance attendants had reassured them about the cause—indigestion rather than a heart attack. They'd laughed afterward. ©
Have you done anything that could be called brave?