Published in the Santa Cruz Sentinel (CA) on Oct. 21, 1990:
WHEN FATE CHOSE A GOOD SAMARITAN
On Oct. 11, Laura Wolfson’s and Donna Christine Fichera’s lives crossed paths. Before that morning, the two Cabrillo College students didn’t know each other.
But as fate would have it, Wolfson would be the last person on Earth to talk to Fichera, to comfort her, to pray with her.
Donna Christine Fichera, 38, bled to death at Cabrillo College when she suffered a miscarriage.
Wolfson, a mother of four, was taking an art class that day. When she looked up from her work, she noticed her teacher bending over a woman whom she didn’t recognize.
Apparently, Fichera wasn’t feeling well that morning and had asked her teacher if she could skip class. As she was leaving the campus, she began to feel worse and wandered into a classroom to seek help.
“The teacher was with her and had just gotten her a drink of water,” Wolfson said. “She was crouched on the ground in a fetal position. She didn’t appear to be in pain as much as discomfort. The teacher asked if someone would help take her to the health services office. Two of us raised our hands, but I knew where it was and the other woman didn’t.”
As the two women began to walk, Fichera poured out her feelings.
“She told me how sad she was that her boyfriend had just left her and would I give her a hug,” Wolfson related. “So I said, ‘Sure, there is always time for a hug.’ When I hugged her, I could feel her getting really weak.”
The women had only walked two doors down from the classroom in Building 300 when Fichera said she felt like she had to urinate.
Wolfson said she looked down on the ground and saw a few drops of blood. When she looked down again, she saw a lot of blood.
“All she wanted was to be loved,” Wolfson said. “When she began to bleed, I asked her if she was pregnant and she said yes, but she didn’t want to have the baby, that she hated her boyfriend. But I don’t think she really hated him. I know what it is like. I have four children and my husband left me when I had the fourth.”
Wolfson sat Fichera down in a chair and began calling to other students for help.
She yelled for someone to call the infirmary, but a couple students just looked at her quizzically.
“I guess I’m the only person who knows what an infirmary is. Then I called out to please call 911 and someone did,” Wolfson said. She stressed that people did not ignore her pleas for help.
“A couple of people did walk by, but I don’t think they realized the severity,” Wolfson said. “Everything happened so quickly that the few minutes it took for someone to call for help didn’t matter,” she added.
“Her eyes began to roll back in her head. I asked her if she knew who Jesus was. She nodded yes and I didn’t wait for a response. I prayed with her. By then, the firemen were there,” Wolfson said.
First on the scene were Campus Police Chief John Barker and Campus Police Officer Chuck Nicolls. Barker said that when they arrived, the student was hemorrhaging badly, pale and semiconscious.
About a minute after the police arrived, firemen were on the scene and began administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Fichera was placed in shock trousers and CPR continued as she was rushed to Dominican Hospital, Barker reported.
She died at 10:04 a.m. at the hospital, two hours after she first sought help. The official cause of death was placental separation (miscarriage) and hemorrhaging. Contributing factors, according to Sgt. Jim Morris of the coroner’s office, were heart problems; Fichera had a pacemaker.
According to Dr. Hector Magana, a local obstetrician, it is rare for a woman to die from a miscarriage in her first 18 weeks of pregnancy. But Magana pointed out that Fichera had a pacemaker and the excessive blood loss caused her blood pressure and heart beat to drop.
A memorial service took place in San Jose on Wednesday.
Wolfson was there.
WHEN FATE CHOSE A GOOD SAMARITAN
On Oct. 11, Laura Wolfson’s and Donna Christine Fichera’s lives crossed paths. Before that morning, the two Cabrillo College students didn’t know each other.
But as fate would have it, Wolfson would be the last person on Earth to talk to Fichera, to comfort her, to pray with her.
Donna Christine Fichera, 38, bled to death at Cabrillo College when she suffered a miscarriage.
Wolfson, a mother of four, was taking an art class that day. When she looked up from her work, she noticed her teacher bending over a woman whom she didn’t recognize.
Apparently, Fichera wasn’t feeling well that morning and had asked her teacher if she could skip class. As she was leaving the campus, she began to feel worse and wandered into a classroom to seek help.
“The teacher was with her and had just gotten her a drink of water,” Wolfson said. “She was crouched on the ground in a fetal position. She didn’t appear to be in pain as much as discomfort. The teacher asked if someone would help take her to the health services office. Two of us raised our hands, but I knew where it was and the other woman didn’t.”
As the two women began to walk, Fichera poured out her feelings.
“She told me how sad she was that her boyfriend had just left her and would I give her a hug,” Wolfson related. “So I said, ‘Sure, there is always time for a hug.’ When I hugged her, I could feel her getting really weak.”
The women had only walked two doors down from the classroom in Building 300 when Fichera said she felt like she had to urinate.
Wolfson said she looked down on the ground and saw a few drops of blood. When she looked down again, she saw a lot of blood.
“All she wanted was to be loved,” Wolfson said. “When she began to bleed, I asked her if she was pregnant and she said yes, but she didn’t want to have the baby, that she hated her boyfriend. But I don’t think she really hated him. I know what it is like. I have four children and my husband left me when I had the fourth.”
Wolfson sat Fichera down in a chair and began calling to other students for help.
She yelled for someone to call the infirmary, but a couple students just looked at her quizzically.
“I guess I’m the only person who knows what an infirmary is. Then I called out to please call 911 and someone did,” Wolfson said. She stressed that people did not ignore her pleas for help.
“A couple of people did walk by, but I don’t think they realized the severity,” Wolfson said. “Everything happened so quickly that the few minutes it took for someone to call for help didn’t matter,” she added.
“Her eyes began to roll back in her head. I asked her if she knew who Jesus was. She nodded yes and I didn’t wait for a response. I prayed with her. By then, the firemen were there,” Wolfson said.
First on the scene were Campus Police Chief John Barker and Campus Police Officer Chuck Nicolls. Barker said that when they arrived, the student was hemorrhaging badly, pale and semiconscious.
About a minute after the police arrived, firemen were on the scene and began administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Fichera was placed in shock trousers and CPR continued as she was rushed to Dominican Hospital, Barker reported.
She died at 10:04 a.m. at the hospital, two hours after she first sought help. The official cause of death was placental separation (miscarriage) and hemorrhaging. Contributing factors, according to Sgt. Jim Morris of the coroner’s office, were heart problems; Fichera had a pacemaker.
According to Dr. Hector Magana, a local obstetrician, it is rare for a woman to die from a miscarriage in her first 18 weeks of pregnancy. But Magana pointed out that Fichera had a pacemaker and the excessive blood loss caused her blood pressure and heart beat to drop.
A memorial service took place in San Jose on Wednesday.
Wolfson was there.
Published in the Santa Cruz Sentinel (CA) on Oct. 21, 1990:
WHEN FATE CHOSE A GOOD SAMARITAN
On Oct. 11, Laura Wolfson’s and Donna Christine Fichera’s lives crossed paths. Before that morning, the two Cabrillo College students didn’t know each other.
But as fate would have it, Wolfson would be the last person on Earth to talk to Fichera, to comfort her, to pray with her.
Donna Christine Fichera, 38, bled to death at Cabrillo College when she suffered a miscarriage.
Wolfson, a mother of four, was taking an art class that day. When she looked up from her work, she noticed her teacher bending over a woman whom she didn’t recognize.
Apparently, Fichera wasn’t feeling well that morning and had asked her teacher if she could skip class. As she was leaving the campus, she began to feel worse and wandered into a classroom to seek help.
“The teacher was with her and had just gotten her a drink of water,” Wolfson said. “She was crouched on the ground in a fetal position. She didn’t appear to be in pain as much as discomfort. The teacher asked if someone would help take her to the health services office. Two of us raised our hands, but I knew where it was and the other woman didn’t.”
As the two women began to walk, Fichera poured out her feelings.
“She told me how sad she was that her boyfriend had just left her and would I give her a hug,” Wolfson related. “So I said, ‘Sure, there is always time for a hug.’ When I hugged her, I could feel her getting really weak.”
The women had only walked two doors down from the classroom in Building 300 when Fichera said she felt like she had to urinate.
Wolfson said she looked down on the ground and saw a few drops of blood. When she looked down again, she saw a lot of blood.
“All she wanted was to be loved,” Wolfson said. “When she began to bleed, I asked her if she was pregnant and she said yes, but she didn’t want to have the baby, that she hated her boyfriend. But I don’t think she really hated him. I know what it is like. I have four children and my husband left me when I had the fourth.”
Wolfson sat Fichera down in a chair and began calling to other students for help.
She yelled for someone to call the infirmary, but a couple students just looked at her quizzically.
“I guess I’m the only person who knows what an infirmary is. Then I called out to please call 911 and someone did,” Wolfson said. She stressed that people did not ignore her pleas for help.
“A couple of people did walk by, but I don’t think they realized the severity,” Wolfson said. “Everything happened so quickly that the few minutes it took for someone to call for help didn’t matter,” she added.
“Her eyes began to roll back in her head. I asked her if she knew who Jesus was. She nodded yes and I didn’t wait for a response. I prayed with her. By then, the firemen were there,” Wolfson said.
First on the scene were Campus Police Chief John Barker and Campus Police Officer Chuck Nicolls. Barker said that when they arrived, the student was hemorrhaging badly, pale and semiconscious.
About a minute after the police arrived, firemen were on the scene and began administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Fichera was placed in shock trousers and CPR continued as she was rushed to Dominican Hospital, Barker reported.
She died at 10:04 a.m. at the hospital, two hours after she first sought help. The official cause of death was placental separation (miscarriage) and hemorrhaging. Contributing factors, according to Sgt. Jim Morris of the coroner’s office, were heart problems; Fichera had a pacemaker.
According to Dr. Hector Magana, a local obstetrician, it is rare for a woman to die from a miscarriage in her first 18 weeks of pregnancy. But Magana pointed out that Fichera had a pacemaker and the excessive blood loss caused her blood pressure and heart beat to drop.
A memorial service took place in San Jose on Wednesday.
Wolfson was there.
WHEN FATE CHOSE A GOOD SAMARITAN
On Oct. 11, Laura Wolfson’s and Donna Christine Fichera’s lives crossed paths. Before that morning, the two Cabrillo College students didn’t know each other.
But as fate would have it, Wolfson would be the last person on Earth to talk to Fichera, to comfort her, to pray with her.
Donna Christine Fichera, 38, bled to death at Cabrillo College when she suffered a miscarriage.
Wolfson, a mother of four, was taking an art class that day. When she looked up from her work, she noticed her teacher bending over a woman whom she didn’t recognize.
Apparently, Fichera wasn’t feeling well that morning and had asked her teacher if she could skip class. As she was leaving the campus, she began to feel worse and wandered into a classroom to seek help.
“The teacher was with her and had just gotten her a drink of water,” Wolfson said. “She was crouched on the ground in a fetal position. She didn’t appear to be in pain as much as discomfort. The teacher asked if someone would help take her to the health services office. Two of us raised our hands, but I knew where it was and the other woman didn’t.”
As the two women began to walk, Fichera poured out her feelings.
“She told me how sad she was that her boyfriend had just left her and would I give her a hug,” Wolfson related. “So I said, ‘Sure, there is always time for a hug.’ When I hugged her, I could feel her getting really weak.”
The women had only walked two doors down from the classroom in Building 300 when Fichera said she felt like she had to urinate.
Wolfson said she looked down on the ground and saw a few drops of blood. When she looked down again, she saw a lot of blood.
“All she wanted was to be loved,” Wolfson said. “When she began to bleed, I asked her if she was pregnant and she said yes, but she didn’t want to have the baby, that she hated her boyfriend. But I don’t think she really hated him. I know what it is like. I have four children and my husband left me when I had the fourth.”
Wolfson sat Fichera down in a chair and began calling to other students for help.
She yelled for someone to call the infirmary, but a couple students just looked at her quizzically.
“I guess I’m the only person who knows what an infirmary is. Then I called out to please call 911 and someone did,” Wolfson said. She stressed that people did not ignore her pleas for help.
“A couple of people did walk by, but I don’t think they realized the severity,” Wolfson said. “Everything happened so quickly that the few minutes it took for someone to call for help didn’t matter,” she added.
“Her eyes began to roll back in her head. I asked her if she knew who Jesus was. She nodded yes and I didn’t wait for a response. I prayed with her. By then, the firemen were there,” Wolfson said.
First on the scene were Campus Police Chief John Barker and Campus Police Officer Chuck Nicolls. Barker said that when they arrived, the student was hemorrhaging badly, pale and semiconscious.
About a minute after the police arrived, firemen were on the scene and began administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Fichera was placed in shock trousers and CPR continued as she was rushed to Dominican Hospital, Barker reported.
She died at 10:04 a.m. at the hospital, two hours after she first sought help. The official cause of death was placental separation (miscarriage) and hemorrhaging. Contributing factors, according to Sgt. Jim Morris of the coroner’s office, were heart problems; Fichera had a pacemaker.
According to Dr. Hector Magana, a local obstetrician, it is rare for a woman to die from a miscarriage in her first 18 weeks of pregnancy. But Magana pointed out that Fichera had a pacemaker and the excessive blood loss caused her blood pressure and heart beat to drop.
A memorial service took place in San Jose on Wednesday.
Wolfson was there.
Family Members
Sponsored by Ancestry
Advertisement
Explore more
Sponsored by Ancestry
Advertisement
