SO there we were.

Six of us gathered for our First Aid ­refresher course. Four office staff and two security guards.

After the pleasantries and a welcome cup of tea we gathered round our first aid instructor, George.

Unbeknown to the rest of us, Stephen, one of the security guards, had a slight headache. He later said he hadn't given it a second thought as his wife had also been unwell and he assumed he had the same thing.

However, 15 minutes into the First Aid training, Stephen, who has been a qualified first- aider for 15 years, began to feel unwell.

He felt light-headed and just wanted to leave the room.

Suddenly his legs were like jelly and he had to be assisted into the corridor, where he began to faint.

We watched as his face got paler and paler.

"Oh well," piped up one of the trainees. "If you're going to pass out, where better than on a First Aid course?"

"Get some water," instructed George, taking charge.

But the second we turned around we heard a thump as Stephen keeled over, whacking his head off the wall.

"Oh no," shouted Martin, as Stephen's new glasses went flying across the corridor.

Poor Stephen.

He tried, but somehow he couldn't even manage to speak.

For anyone who knows Stephen, that was a first.

His face and knuckles were bruised and for a few eerily quiet moments, he was silent.

Next minute, Ann Marie the secretary came towards Stephen, and unaware of the goings-on stepped over his limp body and enquired: "Is this the role play section?"

Lying in the cool corridor sipping water, Stephen began to get some of the colour back into his cheeks.

George, now in control of the situation, went through a checklist of questions about his health and, thankfully, soon ascertained that Stephen was fit enough to continue with the training.

More importantly, he was talking again (a sure sign he was on the mend).

Embarrassed, Stephen attempted a smile.

"I'm sure I'll see the funny side of this later," he joked.

­However, 20 minutes into the course, as we were all listening intently, he began to display the same symptoms.

"Phone an ambulance," said George.

"I think he might be having a heart attack."

George expertly deployed his first aid skills until the paramedics arrived and immediately took over.

We watched as poor Stephen, who was white as a ghost, huffed and puffed, although he was still attempting to talk through the oxygen mask.

However, after our fright (and his), we had to admit we were relieved to see him taken care of by professionals.

"Scary stuff," said one of the students.

"Aye, I couldn't do that for a living," added another.

Thankfully, Stephen recovered fully and quickly, and speaking to him later he told us how he spent three hours in the Royal Infirmary where, despite his own problems, his First Aid and Counselling instincts kicked in.

"I was left in the corridor for ages with no medics about," he explained.

"So I started to assist some of the patients in the corridor."

"One poor woman was ­screaming. I couldn't understand a word she was saying so I put the side barrier of her bed up and tried to comfort her."

I couldn't help thinking, "poor Stephen. He goes to a First Aid course and ends up helping out at the Royal."

"So what caused you to faint?" I asked him.

"They gave me every test possible," answered Stephen.

"The staff at the Royal were great. I couldn't have asked for better care.

"They think its low blood pressure but I was wondering if it could have been psychosomatic."

"Really," I asked, curious as to how he reached that diagnosis. "Psychosomatic?"

"Yes, well," he explained.

"It was this exact day many years ago that my dad died. Perhaps that was playing on my mind."

"That's sounds probable," I agreed, although I wasn't too sure.

"Anyway, so long as you are okay now."

Later I was telling my friends about the incident and asked if any of them were trained in first aid.

Everyone had shaken their head when Mae piped up: "It's never too late to learn. I think I'll sign up for it."

"You?" I gasped. I was taken aback. "Remember the time I sprained my ankle?"

I turned to my friends to demonstrate.

"Mae tried to establish if my ankle was sprained or not. She lifted her right hand and moved it up and down and up and down."

"'Can you do that?' she asked me. 'Yes, I can.' I replied and mimicked Mae whilst raising my hand up and down … 'but what's that got to do with my ANKLE!'"

Some people are natural helpers and some are just not meant to be.