At 2 p.m., Sandy was 40 feet under water and in serious trouble. He knew he was going to die. Life had been good, and when it ended, everyone who really knew him, would agree that Sandy had lived a good, full existence. He just didn’t want it to end so soon. He fought death, kicking and screaming. That may have helped on dry land but at more than one atmosphere below sea level, it just added to his panic.
The day had started early. Sandy had to set the alarm for the first time on his holidays. He invited Becky to join him for, possibly, his last meal. She thought he was joking and silently, he wished she were right.
Sandy was at the dive shop 15 minutes early. You had to sign up the day before, then show up 24 hours later and take the lessons.
The boat the Breezes Hotel owned, could take ten adults with oxygen tanks. Two of those were the dive instructors. The class was therefore limited to eight students and if everyone passed the free, hour-long course, then there was room in the boat for all of them. Some guests at the hotel had already passed their exam and had their first dive. They could go for another 30 minutes at the bottom of the ocean, if there was room in the boat.
Sandy got the idea to go S.C.U.B.A. diving from a couple from Alberta, Colin and Gina. The day Sandy signed up, an experienced diver was looking for a spot on the boat. He was told to come back at 10:30 a.m., and if there were room, he’d have a dive. When Sandy told Colin about the procedure, the Albertan forest expert was able to get on the dive list.
Five potential divers showed up on that Thursday morning. It was eight days away from Friday the Thirteenth, but the 5th was going to be very unlucky. Only one would finish the 30-minute dive. There was already a student at the unopened Dive Shop and he spoke to Sandy.
"If this goes well, I’m going to spend the rest of the next three days studying, practising and qualifying for the P.A.D.I. exam". Back home, if the course was offered nearby, it was expensive. If you had diabetes like this man, you needed a doctor’s permission as well. First, everyone had to be able to swim two laps in the deep end of the hotel’s pool. The class was not full. Only five showed up and were led to the water. The diabetic did a lap, climbed out, and left. The class was down to four.
Sandy, Brenda and a couple, probably from Wisconsin, passed the two-lap test. Half way through the lesson, sitting at the bar, Margie wondered if she and Frank were at the wrong meeting.
"We only want to go snorkelling," she explained. Since it was an all-inclusive resort, the lessons for S.C.U.B.A. were free, so Margie and her husband were persuaded to hang in for the big dive. After all, if you could strap on heavy equipment and survive 40 feet under the ocean, you could certainly handle floating, face down, at the surface.
Sandy had snorkelled in Fiji. In the bar on Paradise Island, there had been a beautiful poster, showing dozens of colourful fish. Sandy saw lots of exotic aquatic life while snorkelling but none of them were on the poster!
Frank’s wife dropped out of the group when it came time to put on the equipment. Understandably, she balked at the weight. She walked away from the Dive Shop and didn’t look back. Sandy didn’t say anything but he caught the eye of both Frank and Brenda and they watched as Margie headed for the bar. That left three.
Courageously, Frank held on for another five minutes. The remaining three students were heading for the pool when Frank’s left knee let him down. Literally. He may have been able to stay upright except for the heavy tank on his back. Both Brenda and Sandy watched helplessly as Frank crumpled to the wet floor of the resort.
You had to take a day off from tanning, if you were going to learn to S.C.U.B.A. dive, go shopping in Ochos Rios, sight see at Dunn’s River Falls or head to Bob Marley’s birth/resting place. No chance of adding more of the rich, brown lustre to the skin. They had picked the best day to miss tanning. Not only was it cloudy all day; it was the only one with rain. That morning, it had poured during breakfast and there were puddles everywhere.
The wet floor didn’t help Frank to keep his balance when his knee gave out. His wife was the first of a dozen who crowded around the embarrassed American. One attractive female was the most persistent of the good Samaritans. She was always on the verge of popping out of her low cut top and the cigarette in her hand, made Sandy wonder how much she really knew about first aid.
Brenda and Sandy, who had witnessed the ‘fall from grace’, were gently relegated to the outer rim of the crowd. Sandy ended up sitting on a wall along a flowerbed, just to help keep his balance.
Sandy, who would normally find a clever, humorous comment to ease any stress, was silent. It was serious now. Eventually, a third instructor herded the two remaining students away from the man lying helpless on the tiles. At the pool, another instructor, Magnum, caught up to them and invited Brenda and Sandy into the pool. They were shown how to do two things under water.
ONE: They practised filling their masks with water then blowing them clear.
TWO: They practised asking for and getting the instructor’s emergency oxygen. There was no stress despite being under water. If they had stood up, all three would have interfered with the volleyball game since they were in the shallow end of the pool. The time spent in the pool was good for two reasons. They got very good at both safety procedures and they would never have to use them.
In the pool, the heavy tanks and the weight belts did their jobs. They allowed Brenda and Sandy to be essentially weightless under water. However, as they climbed awkwardly out of the pool, struggled across the lawn, then onto the beach and tried to climb on the boat, the S.C.U.B.A. equipment was a distinct disadvantage.
Margie would later say during dinner that staff from the hotel should carry the equipment. After all, it was designed only for use underwater. Good point.
Sandy’s bad luck started when he tried to get into the boat. As he was trying to keep his balance in the Caribbean Sea, a wave struck him. He dropped his mask and it was never found. After a five minute fruitless search, the second instructor waded ashore to get a replacement. The only other equipment that settled to the ocean’s floor that day was a weight belt. Sandy’s, of course.
So, of a full class of eight, five had signed up and only two made it to the boat. There was now room for six other guests who had already passed the course and had at least one dive. Sandy knew Colin and the British diver. Paul had neglected his wife on the nude beach to spend time preparing for his P.A.D.I. exam. In the end, he passed everything and was qualified to dive the world over. Sandy didn’t know the other four divers but one of them was a woman. Counting Magnum and his assistant, there were only two women in the group of ten.
When they reached their diving spot and tied up, Magnum and the experienced divers went down first. Since Sandy took a while to attach his underwater camera to his wrist, Brenda went first. She had a camera too but only Sandy’s blue Kodak MAX was able to withstand the pressure at 40 feet and take photographs. After diving off the boat, they swam to the rope at the bow. Jamaica was not only cloudy, but the surface was very choppy. Huge waves, a meter high, made swimming on the surface difficult. Once they got to the anchor rope though, they went hand over hand down the line, peacefully towards the ocean’s floor. Sandy followed Brenda as they slowly went head first down 40 feet. He was grateful for the stops Brenda made on the descent. Although he was consistently clearing the pressure in his ears, the pain was occurring for a few seconds every ten feet.
Sandy could see the other divers, the experienced ones, already on the bottom. They were squatting in a semi-circle off to the left of the anchor. However, he and Brenda took their time descending. Once at the bottom, as instructed, they all sat in a circle and held hands. The two instructors had each diver do a simple activity. One by one, each diver had to find the oxygen gauge and show it to the professional. Then they were off to tour the ocean floor on a prearranged path! Sandy and Brenda did not have enough weight on their belts and this slowed them down. Sandy ended up behind the rest of them again but he made up time easily by swimming over a shipwreck instead of around it. The others were in sitting in a semi-circle when he caught up to them.
When you dive below 30 feet, the pressure of the water may affect your blood. Inside Sandy’s ears, small blood vessels burst. Blood started to reduce his hearing and balance. Panic set in.
‘That’s unusual,’ he thought. The instructors had warned them not to hold their breath. Magnum had commanded the students to breathe in and out, in and out, with their mouths. "Don’t stop. Don’t hold your breath".
‘Am I breathing?’ Sandy asked himself.
‘Yes.’
‘How about the panic?’
‘Still there!’
Magnum’s assistant swam over to Sandy as soon as he saw the novice shaking his head from side to side. He used sign language to ask the diver if he was OK. The lesson at the bar had described the few signs they might need. Sandy, ever the polite Canadian, made a sign with his left hand. He placed his thumb and forefinger in a circle with the remaining three fingers straight up. It was the ‘OK’ sign.
Like most men, Sandy probably would give the same signal if he had been shot six times and was on fire. "I’ll just apply some pressure. I’m fine. How about some ice?"
Sandy wasn’t left alone though. The instructor stayed with him, staring at Sandy from a foot away. Again, he signed, ‘Are you OK?’
Sandy thought about this. He checked to see if he was still breathing. He was. That was a good sign. Panic? Still there and that emotion was not good. Finally he made a fist with his right hand and placed it between their faces. The thumb was pointed up. The two men were still facing each other and they extended their arms and grabbed the other’s elbows. The instructor led the ascent with Sandy concentrating on breathing. When they broke the surface, Sandy tore off his mask.
"What’s your name?" he asked.
"Ryan."
"Thank you for saving my life."
Ryan watched as the novice headed back to the boat. It was probably 50 yards away but at least it wasn’t underwater. Sandy had just had his first and last, deep S.C.U.B.A. dive. Although he thought he had only been under for five minutes, Sandy had been down for half of the 30-minute dive.
It would take two days before he realized that his hearing wasn’t coming back and the doctor would prevent him from flying back home. He would be stuck in paradise for at least an extra four days.
Originally Posted : 180204
