In a life-or-death situation, instinct proves to be lifesaver

Loree Payne was upstairs watching the 11 o'clock news, wondering if she would be able to stay awake to welcome in the new year.

It was a mellow New Year's Eve celebration, a few Washington teammates gathering at Kayla Burt's house, eating junk food and acting silly. They had practice at 8:30 the next morning. The real parties were happening somewhere else.

Through the evening, Burt felt something wasn't right. She had complained of light-headedness to her teammates, and when she came upstairs and sat on the bed next to Payne, once again she said she felt dizzy.

Then, before Payne could react, Burt fell, face down, off the bed and started twitching on the floor. At first Payne thought Burt was joking. A clown at heart, Burt was always acting crazy, making her teammates laugh.

But quickly Payne realized this was serious. This was life and death. And the next few minutes ignited like gasoline.

None of us really knows how we'll react in a crisis. We don't know how strong we are until we're tested at a moment like this.

Burt's teammates reacted the way athletes are taught to react. They fought off the inevitable waves of panic. They battled through their fears. They didn't marinate in their own anxieties. Without really knowing what to do, they did what they had to do to keep their friend alive.

Payne called downstairs to her teammates and asked for help. They rushed upstairs and raced, reflexively into action.

They rolled Burt on her back and saw the purple, like an alarm, in her face. They knew she wasn't getting any oxygen. They moved the furniture around. They lifted her onto the bed.

Giuliana Mendiola slapped her in the face and called her name. "Kayla, wake up. Wake up Kayla." Then she started pushing on Burt's chest.

"We didn't know what we were doing, but we just tried doing things we'd seen on TV," Giuliana said. "The only reason I reacted was because of how much I love Kayla. I love Kayla that much and I knew she needed help, and we all just reacted that way."

Giuliana's sister, Gioconda, only knowing she had to find a way to get air into Burt's empty lungs, started trying to resuscitate her mouth-to-mouth.

"I was just blowing into her mouth," Gio said. "Her chest was going up and down and she gasped, so I guessed it was working."

Meanwhile, Erica Schelly was on the telephone to Medic One. She began passing on instructions. "Fifteen compressions to the chest, then two breaths," she said. And the Mendiola sisters followed those instructions as if they were coming from Coach June Daugherty in the final seconds of a conference game.

"I had no idea what to do," Schelly said. "I was freaking out. The only thing that kept me sane was having this to do. I was pretty scared."

They were all scared, but they weren't panicked. They did what they could and they kept their friend alive, until Medic One, including former Huskies guard Michelle Perkins, arrived about five minutes after the phone call.

"Your instincts just take over," Payne said. "It was surreal, like we were there and we weren't. It was like we were watching it happen and thinking, 'This can't be happening.' "

Burt, a starting sophomore guard who was fourth on the team in scoring, second in assists and tied for third in steals, had suffered an episode of sudden death. Her heart had stopped pumping blood, and she was minutes away from dying.

"Being athletes really helped us in that situation," Payne said. "Under pressure situations what do you do? Being a student-athlete you learn the concept of team and the concept of composure and they definitely came into play."

These teammates reacted like a team. Everybody had a role to perform. Everybody did her job. Without questioning what they should be doing, they acted like heroes.

That New Year's Eve changed their lives forever. They were sent a message as sharp as a defibrillator's. Life is precious, and your time is short.

These players, whose goals this season remain to win the Pac-10 Conference and go deep into the NCAA tournament, were given a serious dose of perspective. Basketball will remain intensely important to them, but the games aren't life and death anymore.

"Now that Kayla won't be able to play with us, it makes the rest of us so grateful that we can play," said Gio, who turned 22 today. "I still want to win just as badly as I wanted to win before, but before, if we lost, it felt like the end of the world. I got so distraught over losses. My mom is always telling us, when we're bummed over a loss, that life's more important than losing a game. It never really made me feel better, but from now on it will."

Kayla Burt won't play competitive basketball again, but she has her life back and has all of those friends who helped save it.

"Before all this happened, if someone told me I couldn't play basketball again, it would have been the most devastating thing that could happen to me," Gio said. "I don't know how I would have handled it. But now that Kayla's going through that, I can step back and I can say to Kayla, 'You're alive and that's more important.'

"I feel like Kayla's been given a second chance. I feel like so much has happened. I feel like I've aged. If you don't believe in God before something like this, you do afterwards. And now that Kayla's better, I feel like I can breathe again. It's such a relief."

This was a moment of heroism, a story of love, an event bigger than any basketball game they'll ever play.

In Kayla Burt's bedroom, on New Year's Eve, the University of Washington women's basketball team beat Death. It was the biggest victory in school history.

Steve Kelley: 206-464-2176 or skelley@seattletimes.com.