Dying in front of my kids... until my autistic son saved me

When Leza Fitzpatrick, 37, from Sussex, collapsed during an asthma attack, her children came to the rescue-especially her autistic 10-year-old son, Myles

‘Gripping the sofa for support, I fought for air. But my lungs didn't seem to be taking in any oxygen. I'd had asthma attacks before, but never one this serious. It had started off like any other evening. Me and the kids, Katrina, 15, Luke, 12, and Myles, 10, had just polished off our favourite Chinese takeaway - prawn balls, rice and crackers - and were on the sofa watching a film. My other daughter, Nicole, 14, was staying with friends nearby. It felt good to sit and relax - life had been stressful recently. As well as asthma, I have rheumatoid arthritis and autoimmune disease (which means my immune system attacks itself). I'm a single mum, so it's just me and the four kids. My youngest, Myles, is autistic; he finds it hard to understand others, and has difficulty communicating and showing emotion. He also suffers from Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) so is easily distracted. I've got my hands full but they all help - and it can't be easy for them having a poorly mum. To top it all, we were in the process of moving home and were staying at my friend Deborah's in Sussex.

“I'm finding it hard to breathe, love,” I gasped to Katrina. She looked at me in horror. She knew Deborah, 39, was out for the evening with her daughters, Lucy, 12, and Rosie, 10 - and if I was to make it through I'd need help. As my chest felt tighter and tighter, I thought “I'm going to die - and in front of the kids, too”. I just managed to wheeze “I love you”, then couldn't talk any more.

Katrina panicked. “We've got to do something,” she screamed to her brothers, who were both scared too, and made me room to lie on the sofa. What happened next was incredible.

Unprompted, Myles leapt up from his chair and grabbed the phone. He dialled 999. “I need you to help my Mum,” he said calmly to the operator. “She's not breathing.” Autistic children find it hard to cope with traumatic situations, so for Myles to do this was amazing.

Myles explained about my asthma then, when he was asked for the address, he realised he didn't know where we were staying. So he went to find one of Deborah's electricity bills from a drawer. Katrina was next to me helping me breathe. “Myles, tell your sister to check mummy's airway isn't blocked,” said the operator. “And make sure she's lying on her back with her head tilted back.” My brave boy repeated all this to Katrina, who was still in a panic, flapping her hands and screaming. “We've got to do this for Mummy,” he urged her.

Apparently I'd stopped breathing by now, so next came the biggest challenge of all. “Myles, you're all doing well,” soothed the operator. “Now I'm going to tell you how Katrina can give mummy the kiss of life.” Slowly, the operator told Myles what to do - and he repeated it back to her word for word in case he got mixed up. Katrina got me breathing again, and Myles stayed on the line to the operator while Katrina sat with me until the ambulance arrived 40 long minutes later. The house was in the middle of nowhere, so Luke ran to the gate to signal to them.

The first thing I remember was being wheeled into the ambulance. Luckily, Deborah arrived to look after the kids. I stayed in Kent & Sussex Hospital overnight. The paramedics had been so moved by what we'd been through they came to see me on the ward the next day. “You've been very lucky,” said one. “If it wasn't for Myles dialing 999, you wouldn't have survived.” Myles' autism makes it hard for him to receive instructions, especially without eye contact, and his ADHD means he can't concentrate for long. But, incredibly he stayed focused and somehow, he stepped into action.

My boy is a local celebrity now, but he just says, “You'd do the same if it happened to your mummy”. I couldn't be prouder.’