Water Water Everywhere and Way Too Much in My Regulator

It wasn’t until I nearly drowned at 100 feet down that I realized how little I knew about diving. Talk about the wrong time to figure this out!

I started scuba training in July 2005 getting my Basic NAUI certification in September and since I enjoyed my classes so much I went for my Advanced Certification which I attained in mid-October… all of this without ever stepping a foot into the ocean. How is that possible? Well, the process at the dive shop I went through for all of my certifications allowed new students to continue directly from basic to advanced certification so long as they paid the associated fees to the dive shop (of course), attended six more classes and passed only six more check-out dives at the local quarry. So in a matter of 12 weeks from beginning to end - POOF, you're Advanced Certified! Easy, huh? And completely dangerous.

I believe this process is a complete racket by certain dive shops to keep getting more funds from enthusiastic students and unfortunately it also gives a false sense of security to both the diver and the dive masters who are running trips. No one should be able to get advanced certification in ANYTHING after only 12 attempts – especially not in unrealistic conditions and there should be a minimum amount of time you have to be actively diving before you can go for advanced certification. This is a dangerous flaw in the system. There's a reason why you can't get from a yellow belt to a black belt overnight - because it could get you killed, just like this can. My brother thought it was highly suspect that I could have my advanced certification without ever doing an ocean dive and he was right. At the time it was funny – I had my advanced status before he did – and he had been diving for 20 years and had approximately 300 dives to his credit. Ha! Ha! But it wasn’t so funny when the shit hit the fan in Grand Cayman in June of this year.

But I’m jumping too far ahead. Since my certifications I had dived the reefs of Key West and the Bahamas along with the Spiegel Grove – a large, ex-Navy ship that was sunk as an artificial reef off Key Largo, which lies in the sand at about 130 feet (the max depth for recreational diving). The running joke being that I was the only one who had advanced certification and therefore was not required to hire a guide while everyone else in my group did (this included Dean). I wouldn’t have known what to do on that wreck without a guide but they felt because of my certification that it wasn’t “required.” See what I mean about false sense of security?

Now, on these dives I had had no problems and felt very comfortable under the water - hitting max depths of 110+. Seeing awesome bait balls whirl in the distance and gliding along next to 500 foot long ships that were home to barracuda, parrot fish and a multitude of other cool creatures. I truly had no indications that there were any problems and eagerly awaited my next big trip – Grand Cayman, a virtual paradise for divers with beautiful reefs and sheer walls that plunged from 60 to 6,000 feet. I went with four very experienced divers, my brother, his fiancé, Scot - Dean’s scuba instructor for rebreathing certification (a highly advanced type of diving that recirculates your breath to scrub for oxygen, allowing for long down times) and his girlfriend who was also quite advanced. An excellent, not to mention knowledgeable group of divers.

On the first day we went out off the shore of our hotel for two dives, one of the primo dive spots on the island, and again everything felt fine. The gear felt good and I had no issues adjusting to being underwater again. There was so much to see and the clarity of Grand Cayman is incredible – gin clear. I didn’t realize how murky things had been in Key West and even the Bahamas until I was able to see completely down to the reef 80 feet below… from the side of the dive boat.

So the next day we headed to a swim-in dive site known for excellent reef walls where lots of critters hang out. We decided to head to the farther wall since no one had done that one before. As I swam out under a blue sky dotted by white and dark gray storm clouds I felt confident and content to be paddling around the Caribbean in 80 degree water.

We descended to about 100 feet – which by now I was comfortable at - and started swimming along the wall. At one point Dean pointed out a spotted eel for me to look at. I could see it, but barely, my mask had fogged up. Dean could tell and gave me the sign to clear my mask – which you do by bringing water into the mask and then blowing air out of your nose. This replaces the water in the mask with air and leaves you with a clear view. Or it was supposed to.

Now mask clearing is one of the hardest skills for new students to master. It’s scary to all of sudden not be able to see because of having water in your mask and around your nose and it just reinforces that the only way you are breathing is through that regulator. I had done it many times in my certification classes but it was always something that I didn’t enjoy. More than once during my check-out dives with my instructor I had given the “not–so-good” hand signal and he would give me some time to relax and then try again. However, I finally thought I had the hang of it and I afterall I had passed the class.

So back on the reef I went to clear my mask and I had a problem purging my regulator of water. There’s two ways to do it – breathe out in a short burst or hit the button on the front. Neither was working. It wasn’t until I took out my regulator and went to my back-up octopus that I got scared. I couldn’t breathe. I swam to the nearest person which happened to be Scot, and gave the well-known “out of air” hand sign. I believe this was immediately followed by me grabbing his regulator out of his mouth while he switched to his backup. I got two breaths off his regulator and then all the water that was in my lungs came back up and blocked any further breaths. I panicked and ran for the surface. This is a VERY bad thing to do, but at that moment I was not worrying about a case of bends, I was worried about dying.

Scot came up with me, or I dragged him up, I truly don’t remember, but I do remember him holding onto me and trying to slow us down. But, I was aquagirl with an outboard motor on my feet - I was going to get to the surface – immediamente! I came to a spot about 15 feet below the surface that was so clear I thought I had broken the surface and breathed in yet more water instead. One more hard kick and I came up to the sky wretching. Scot got my mask off as I threw up the seawater in my lungs over and over again. My hands and feet were tingling but I thought that was normal – usually happens when I vomit. However when I was able to talk again, after laughing at Scot’s most ironic line on the planet, “I don’t know about you but I could use a cigarette,” and he asked how I was, I told him of the sensations in my extremities and warning bells went off for him. He braced my fins against his shoulders and started swimming me back to shore. I told him I would help and he told me to stay still, that was the first indication that I had that I might be having more of a problem than I thought. The rest of the group came up but we were well on our way to shore leaving them to follow us back.

Scot helped me get up the dock and told the dive shop to call an ambulance. By the time everyone got back to shore, literally minutes later, I was already lying prone on the floor of the dive shop sucking oxygen. I was scared shitless but the look on my brother’s face when he saw me said it all, he was terrified. Here was his little sister flat on her back taking oxygen and getting ready to make a run to the hospital for a possible ride in the decompression chamber. I can only imagine what he was feeling from the look on his face -- this was not the call that anyone would ever want to make to parents back in the U.S.

With the oxygen the tingling dissipated and I was transported to the hospital ER for observation. They weren’t sure at that point if I was experiencing decompression sickness. With this being a well-known diving location, their emergency services were well suited for treating me. Dean made the fateful call to my parents and unfortunately could only report that there had been an accident but couldn’t say if I was going into the chamber. 20 minutes later, after an hour of oxygen treatment they gave me an orange Kool-aid and said if I kept that down that I would not have to go through decompression therapy. I kept it down.

I was eventually released about an hour after that and we called my parents from the payphone in the lobby. My mother’s first statement when I got on the phone with her, after making sure I was ok, was “you are going to kill your brother.” I said that wasn’t my intent, it was just accident. At that point we still didn’t know what happened but Dean was determined to find out. Within 10 minutes of arriving back at the hotel he had my gear on and was in the pool testing to find the malfunction. He couldn’t find anything wrong…. uh oh that means diver error.

Now, my mother truly wanted me to bag the diving for the rest of the trip but I couldn’t do that. If I didn’t get back in the water, soon, I would probably never do it again. This was an extreme case of getting back on the horse. I had to figure out what was wrong. I had too much financially and emotionally invested to give up and walk away.

So Dean, Scot and I geared up and ran through basic certification testing… regulator removals, purging, etc. And then we got to the mask clear. The minute I felt that water hit my nose I was heading for the surface. No way, Jose! Ah, we were onto something here. With further testing we realized that I was breathing through my nose… ALL THE TIME. There was a constant stream of bubbles coming out of my nose – on inhalation and exhalation, still don’t know how I can do that. This is bad. There should be no air coming out or going into my nose – it's supposed to be in and out through the mouth only and in 12 check-out dives no one had ever noticed that I was doing this. So what happened was that when my mask didn’t completely clear of water – I inhaled a snoot full and then couldn’t purge it from my mouth. The only way that Dean and Scot could get me to only breathe through my mouth was to hold my nose closed. Which you can’t do when on a dive. Brotherly love does not extend to nose holding so his sister can dive. That was little much to ask, plus he would not be there all the time. I was having a problem with something that could conceivably have kept me out of the water permanently. If I could not breathe through my mouth only I would be a land-based creature forever – no one would dive with me.

At this point I had had it for the day. I was physically and emotionally spent and I couldn’t do it anymore. If you looked at me cross-eyed I would have burst into sobs. As it was, I just got out of the pool and gave up saying that I would try again tomorrow, opting for a much needed Margarita instead of more pool water.

The next day I got up and went back to the pool while the rest of the group went on a boat dive. I vowed that I would have this problem fixed by the time they got back. I started with the basics – snorkel without a mask. Face in the water going up and down the pool breathing only through my mouth. Lap after lap I trained myself to do something, that after 30+ years of singing and 15 years of doing yoga where you breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, was no longer a standard reaction for me. By the way, I should have had a full day of snorkel time in the pool during training which would have made it very clear that I was having a problem, but alas that was only 15 minutes of our training and with 12 students few instructors would have noticed. Not an excuse by ANY means.

Once I mastered the snorkel I tried to do the same thing with my regulator. Mask off, face in the water. For some reason I could NOT do what I had just done with the snorkel – my nose blew a constant stream of bubbles toward the surface. What the hell? I started looking at the gear. What was throwing me off? If I held my nose I could do it. If I didn't and blew out a breath from the regulator my nose would fill with water. It was at that point that I realized I might be having a problem with the exhaust manifold of my regulator - the place where the bubbles come out. It was blowing the bubbles straight up my nose dislodging the airblock that usually held out the water. I went to the dive shop at the hotel and asked if all of their regulators were set up the same as mine. They were, so I went back to the pool to try some more practice. Eventually I was able to sit on the bottom of the pool without a mask and breathe regularly but it was difficult. There had to be an easier way. I figured out how to do it but this was too much work. I recalled that Scot’s regulator had a different exhaust. I truly believed if I could try that one that I would be able to do this with comfort - I just had to wait for their return.

Everyone got back around noon from their boat dive and I met the boat telling Dean that I had fixed the problem and it was a mere bag of shells to be without the mask. He said, “We’ll see about that. You know the phrase, `dog pile on the rabbit,’ (a well-known Bugs Bunny phrase)? Well we're taking you to task on that right now. You are getting recertified.”

So we moved the party back to the pool and Scot got in the water with me and seemed to be pleased with the snorkel abilities that I had finally figured out. Next was the regulator. Here I tried again with my own but unless I was completely still I had a problem. I finally told him, “Look, switch regulators with me and I think I can solve this.” He looked at me with a mixture of skeptism and pity – poor girl thinks a different regulator will cure her. Well, it did. His wider exhaust pushed the bubbles to the side of my face instead of up my nose and I was able to do everything. I finally knew when I was breathing wrong because the bubbles weren’t going up my face. If they went up the side of my face, I was breathing through my mouth. Ta Da! Mask removals were no longer a problem – Lord knows between Dean and Scot double-teaming me to do mask snatches off my face that if I had a problem there would have been no hiding it. We did a check-out dive in the ocean and everyone knew I was better when I finally started fighting back when they were trying to grab my mask. I was no longer afraid just getting annoyed – a good sign.

So after all of that I’m happy to say that I only missed one morning of dives. We dove the North Wall down to 120 feet – saw sharks, turtles and curtains of silversides. We went back to the site of my accident and dove there again. I was nervous but not any more than usual. I would have been completely nuts not to be a little nervous there, but there were no future problems. I was able to enjoy – and see with my new mask clearing skills – the beauty of Cayman diving with a new understanding and respect for what I was doing. The funny thing is that after you go through something like that – sharks no longer hold any fear for me. They are just fish – being able to change your ingrained actions and face your fear after an incident like this is much scarier than any creature I could encounter under the sea.

I don’t’ know what I would have done without Scot’s help that day and I shudder to think about it. He was my guardian angel and I’ll be forever grateful (as is the rest of the family). It was a miracle that neither of us was hurt. And I don’t know if I would have ever gotten back into the water if Dean hadn’t jumped in with my gear as soon as we got back to the hotel and for that I am truly grateful as well.

I have taken my dive shop and instructor to task for their negligent ways but I don’t believe it did any good. They said that mask snatches were no longer used because they scared the students too much – better to be scared in a pool that’s 8 feet deep than in the ocean at 100 as far as I'm concerned. A lot less bodies floating up to the surface. I can only hope my story, and the threat of a lawsuit, scared them enough to watch their students better during training.

Before I left Cayman I found a card in one of the local shops while down there, that said the following:

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, I will try again tomorrow.”

We are hit with huge challenges along the way in this life. Sometimes we can conquer it today and sometimes we have to wait and conquer it tomorrow. I found out on that trip, that that’s ok.