He saw a commotion from the lobby that day - a wrecked car, engine running - and like others, thought "heart attack." But as he reached the Mustang, he saw the driver had a drooping arm and protruding tongue.
"Classic signs of a stroke," he says.
Thomas had been on duty one day when a co-worker had suffered the same malady and someone saved his life. He recalled a little-known trick. "If you apply ice," he says, "it slows the flow of blood."
He called for four ice packs, affixing them to the base of Culbert's skull and the center of his chest, and held them there.
He also knew one should keep talking to a stroke victim. As they waited for an ambulance, he held Culbert's hand and did so. "Stay with me," he kept saying.
'Pure hell'
In such a stroke, a blood vessel bursts in the brain and can cause permanent damage in seconds, according to the National Institutes of Health. The bigger the area of bleeding, the worse the prognosis.
Culbert's brain was 50 percent filled with blood. "We learned that 80, 90 percent of people die with this type of stroke," says Patricia Spychalski, his daughter.
If Thomas' action, which slowed the blood flow, did not save Culbert's life, doctors say it at least allowed considerable recovery of motor skills he'd have lost for good.
Those didn't return easily. There were two weeks in intensive care at Mercy Medical Center. Then came the therapy. Returned to his hometown of Pelham, N.H., Culbert checked into a rehab center, where months of what he calls "pure hell" began.
He had to relearn basic words and their meanings, rudimentary hand and facial gestures, and how to speak in sentences.
The worst part? "I was lying there for the longest time, knowing what was going on around me but unable to move or talk," says the self-described "Type-A guy." "It was the worst time of my life."
'Second family'
Doctors call Culbert "the miracle man." He can speak nearly as well as ever, drive a car and write - an unexpected recovery for a survivor of such a medical catastrophe.
Part of what drove him, he says, was the thought of coming to Baltimore and thanking the people who saved his life.
Thomas and his staff tracked Culbert's progress, sending get-well cards and inspirational quotes. When Culbert finally was well enough to place a conference call to the hotel, he heard Thomas' baritone among the voices.
