单项选择题

When a customer fell deathly ill, waitress Jessica Grant called on a skill she never thought she’d need.
The man eating chicken chimichangas at table 25 asked for more tortillas and a Dr Pepper. Jessica Shafer Grant, eight hours into a 12-hour double shift at Abuelo’s restaurant in Abilene, Texas, checked on her other customers, then made her way downstairs to the kitchen to place the order. Grant, 29, had recently moved to Abilene with her five-year-old daughter and was supplementing the income she earned as a dental assistant by waiting tables on weekends.
In the restaurant’s courtyard, Walter Wheat, 74, signed his credit card bill and stood up to leave. He dropped his jacket and staggered. His wife, Doris, 67, and the dinner companion grabbed Wheat’s arms and brought him carefully to the floor. Then Wheat, who’d survived a heart attack eight years earlier, stopped breathing and stared up vacantly.
Doris fell to her knees and leaned over her husband. "Daddy, breathe! Breathe! " A man who identified himself as a doctor shot up from a nearby table and rushed to Wheat’s side. Wheat’s skin was pale, and his lips were turning blue. A crowd of patrons gathered as the man placed his fingers on Wheat’s neck. He looked up and shook his head. Wheat had no detectable pulse. Doris turned to a nearby waitress. "Help my husband! " she cried. "Please! "
Grant was coming down the stairs when she saw a crowd in the courtyard, with Doris sitting on the floor near the center of the group. Then Grant saw Wheat on the ground. She pushed her way in.
"What’s going on" she asked.
"He doesn’t have a pulse," the doctor said.
Grant had learned CPR as part of her dental training, though she’d never had to use it before. "Can I give him mouth-to-mouth" she asked Doris.
"Please! "
The doctor backed away and left the restaurant before anyone got his name. Grant knelt by wheat’s head and bent close to listen for his breath. Then she felt for his pulse. Nothing. He looks pretty bad, she thought. He’s not going to make it. She began CPR anyway--I need to do that for him, she thought-- alternating between two consecutive bursts of mouth-to-mouth breathing and a series of chest compressions.
Within a couple of minutes, bartender Jeff Womble was at Grant’s side. A nursing student, Womble wordlessly took over the chest compressions on Wheat.
Soon the two workers had synchronized their efforts: Grant breathed into Wheat’s mouth, then counted as Womble launched into compressions. "One one-thousand, two one-thousand..."
The restaurant was nearly silent. Some patrons prayed softly. Doris twisted a napkin in her hands, repeating to herself, "God, please don’t take him from me yet."
Grant and Womble persisted for nearly ten minutes. Then Wheat gasped. Grant sat back and told Womble to stop. "Keep going! " someone shouted. "Why are you stopping"
But Grant followed her instincts. "Let’s not mess with this," she instructed. "He’s breathing."
The restaurant erupted into applause.

From the story we can know that mouth-to-mouth and compressions must be done().

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