Saved by the defibrillator he fought for

Dean was resuscitated twice before the ambulance arrived. He regained consciousness briefly in the back of the road ambulance, asking if someone had called Gemma. Then he blacked out again, waking up in the air ambulance. True to his 23 years of Royal Navy service, he commented on the flight helmets being used by the paramedics. The next thing he remembers is regaining consciousness in the back of another road ambulance on his way into hospital.

From there, it was a blur for Dean. Flashes of faces, hospital corridors, and conversations that didn’t feel real. ‘It was like a weird dream,’ Dean says. ‘Everyone kept changing.’

He awoke finally in the hospital recovery ward and, true to form, asked for a cup of tea and something to eat. He couldn’t understand why he was there. Doctors explained: he had suffered a sudden out-of-hospital cardiac arrest, survived only thanks to the immediate CPR and defibrillation he received from his colleagues. But he felt fine, albeit hungry, and he desperately wanted to go home.

For Gemma, Dean’s wife, the trauma was no less intense.

‘We’d just spoken on the phone 20 minutes before,’ she says. ‘Then the call came, and I couldn’t take it in. I heard the paramedic, but I was in disbelief. I just kept asking, ‘Are you sure it’s Dean?’’

Gemma drove an hour to Exeter Hospital, uncertain of what awaited. ‘The relief of walking around the corner and seeing him sat up in bed, smiling and saying, ‘Here she is!’ I just broke down. I’d imagined the worst.’

The next few weeks were surreal. With three young children at home, Gemma found herself on autopilot, juggling hospital visits and keeping life as normal as possible for the girls. Dean remained in hospital for three weeks, eager to return home.

The impact has rippled far beyond that day.

Dean now has an ICD and, apart from being a stone lighter after the doctors diagnosed him with Type 1 Diabetes in hospital, and temporarily banned him from driving, his recovery has been remarkably swift – even passing the treadmill test in hospital with flying colours.

But the emotional processing continues.

‘We’ve talked about it so much,’ Gemma says, ‘but the emotions are still confusing. The ‘what ifs’ are the hardest part.’

Dean agrees.

If I’d known what was going to happen, I probably would have kissed my girls goodbye that morning. But I didn’t. Everything was so normal.

And that defibrillator on site? Dean had made sure it was there, raising concerns in a company safety forum just before Christmas. ‘We need defibs on every site, no matter the size or how long we’re there,’ he had said. It was the same defib that ultimately saved his life.

Since the incident, both Dean and Gemma have become passionate advocates for CPR training and access to defibrillators. Dean created a cardiac arrest awareness presentation in hospital and used this to demonstrate the importance across his workplace and other organisations – including Babcock in Bristol, where Gemma’s brother took the message further.

Even their children now know where the nearest defibrillators are in their local village. ‘We were lucky that day,’ Dean says. ‘It happened in a town centre. But I work in remote locations – any other time, I might not have been so close to help. That’s why services like Devon Air Ambulance are vital.’

Gemma, commenting on the colleagues who stepped in and saved Dean’s life, said, ‘For such young lads to do such a massive thing… that’s going to impact them forever. It’s changed our lives, and I know it’s changed theirs too.’

At Christmas 2024, Dean & Gemma got married. They had a baby. And now, more than ever, they treasure the ordinary moments.

Because sometimes, surviving isn’t just about luck. It’s about preparation and action.