water and unsuccessfully attempted to lift him out. The diver
was a big guy, taller than me and considerably heavier. Two
more people soon came to help. It took four people — one
on each leg and arm — to carry him up the stairs. Once we
made it to the top, my mind went totally blank. It seemed
like several minutes, but it was actually only seconds until my
training took over. I called out for a pocket mask and began
to assist another diver in removing the diver’s wetsuit. Once
his suit and hood were off, we checked and confirmed that
he was not breathing and did not have a pulse. We began
two-person CPR immediately, and I quickly realized the truth
in what I have taught my students about CPR for years: You
actually can cause trauma. This was a frightening sensation, as
was feeling the crepitus (crunching and grinding) with every
compression.
We worked on the unresponsive diver for what felt like an
eternity, but only three to five minutes had actually passed.
A member of the Harbor Patrol relieved me as paramedics
arrived on the scene. When I backed away to allow room for
the medics to work, the gravity of the situation began to set
in. Up to that point I had been so focused on providing care
that I had not even registered what was going on around me.
My breathing was fast and deep, my hands were shaking, and
all I could hear was the dialogue between the paramedics. I sat
on the wall in a daze, staring at the medics as they worked. I
eventually got to my feet, grabbed my gear and walked over to
my waiting class, who had no idea any of this had happened;
my assistant had kept them away from the scene.
I put down my gear and noticed the medics were loading
the diver into the ambulance, so I walked over and asked
for a status update. I was told he had regained a pulse and
was breathing. At that moment I started to relive the entire
event, from start to finish, in hyper speed. Every detail, every
chest compression and the man’s lifeless expression all raced
through my head. For some unknown reason, tears began to
stream down my face. Perhaps it was a release of energy or a
combination of adrenaline with the knowledge that he now
had a chance of survival.
I didn’t see the diver again, but the following day a sheriff’s
deputy told me, “The man left here talking and laughing.”
This was great news, of course, and something I now
recognize as rare. It is my belief this man survived because of
the quick thinking of well-trained bystanders who put their
training into action, the excellent skills of the Los Angeles
County Fire Department and, of course, the man’s will to live.
Since my very first DAN training course, I have felt
confidence in the skills I acquired. As I have continued to
add certifications to my repertoire, the more empowered
and prepared I have felt for events such as this one. As a
DAN Instructor, I enjoy educating others and passing on
the life-saving skills I’ve learned. I often find myself using
this incident to illustrate the importance of good basic-life-
support and first-aid training to students as well as friends
and family members. It happened on the water that day at
Catalina, but it could very well happen in aisle five at the
grocery store tomorrow.
AD
www.alertdiver.com
|
51