A SCUBA vacation wouldn't be complete without some freak accident happening. Most of the incidents are quickly resolved, and we forget about them, but this week we are left with a gross reminder of one of the most basic rules of SCUBA diving:
"Don't Touch Anything."
This rule is taught to every beginning SCUBA diver. It's not only for the protection of the environment, but it's also for the protection of the diver.
On our second to last dive this week, Glo and I were once again the last ones in the water because we use our air so efficiently. It's rather fun to have 10-15 minutes extra time on the ocean floor with Glo, especially when we find one last unexpected creature. We were swimming around at about 50 feet, and I saw a huge sponge. Imagine a potter's wheel with a lump of clay on it. As the wheel begins to turn and the potter throws his thumbs into the center of the lump, a bowl is formed. This sponge "bowl" was at least four feet in diameter. Trying to be funny, I flipped upside down and stuck my head in the bowl, making it look like the sponge was eating me. I used my hands to enter and exit. I'll give Glo credit for humoring me, and possibly throwing a laugh my way.
As we ascended to our three-minute safety stop, I grabbed the mooring line. Not because I need to, but because it's easier than trying to maintain my buoyancy at exactly 15 feet when I really want to practice my underwater dance moves. Glo tapped me on the shoulder and told me to let go of the rope. I wasn't sure why, so I grabbed it with the crook of my arm, while I looked at a sharp pain that was starting in between my fourth and pinky fingers on my left hand. Glo was having the same look at her hands at that point.
By the time we got up to the boat, we could hardly pull ourselves up the ladder because of the resemblance of the pain of glass shards covering the palms of our hands. Perhaps you've had fiberglass in your hands, or even a splinter that you can't see, but when it's rubbed or touched, you are acutely aware that it is there. But this felt like a thousand splinters, all over our palms. Our dive master sprayed down our hands with soap and told us to rub. If it was any kind of acid or protein, the pain would subside when the protein was removed.
Oh, the pain of doing this. Remember those splinters? Yep, aggressively rubbing them into our hands. At this point, Glo started crying, and I couldn't blame her. However, I knew that I was feeling nothing in comparison to her, because I had the luck of being on steroids.
Steroids are a curse, but I can't help feeling grateful for them because they are the only means I have to SCUBA dive. My sinuses are regularly inflamed, a condition not conducive to SCUBA diving. So, before I go on any dive trip, I begin a large, heavy, obnoxious dose of steroids so that I can sink to 90 feet without feeling like my head is going to explode. I hate taking them for many reasons--bloating, irritability, weight gain, sleeplessness--but this one time, it was a blessing. While they take the inflammation from my sinuses, they also relieve any other inflammation....including pain in my hands.
Glo and I couldn't even think of using our hands for the rest of the day. Just holding my hamburger at lunch was almost impossible, and don't get me started on opening doors, or washing my hair. I read online that if we had touched some thing, maybe there were actual pieces of that creature still in our hands. So, John went to the front desk of our hotel and got us duct tape. Oh the agony of ripping tape off our hands! When one of the janitors overheard John talking to the front desk people, he told us that he thought we had touched fire coral. The local remedy is to dump bleach on your hands, so he made up a concoction of bleach and soap and told us to go wash. As soon as I dumped that stuff on my hands, it was like I had just shoved my hands in a campfire. No relief, but at least I knew I wasn't spreading any bacterial infections :-) That night, we went out to dinner with our dive master, Mac, and I admitted to touching the sponge (while holding my hands in a meditative position throughout dinner). He reassured me that there was no sponge on the face of the planet that would do to my hands.
His best guess? Jellyfish on the mooring line. We had seen several jellies in the water. Little tiny things, in strings or balls. He's guessing that one of the strings got wrapped around the line, and Glo and I grabbed it.
I'm still convinced it was the sponge.
Either way, I knew Glo was in a bit of trouble. This dive happened on Tuesday, and Thursday she was headed to PMEA Regional Orchestra Festival. That's orchestra--as in she needs to play the violin....in a competition. She had been practicing two hours a day on vacation in preparation--that's what musicians do, right? The show must go on, but as soon as this happened, there was no practicing.
The next day, we flew home, and it was agony for Glo and me to pull our suitcases through the airport. I couldn't even hold the pen to do my crossword puzzle on the airplane! I think Glo's body was in a state of shock, because she slept every moment she was on the plane.
Thursday morning dawned, and she woke up, ready to catch the bus to the festival. I tried to talk her out of going. After all, she's already advanced to All-States for voice, and she doesn't need to (and can't) go for both voice and orchestra. Nope, she was packed and ready to go, and by golly, she was getting on that bus.
And she couldn't even make a fist with her hand. In fact, the one comfort to us through all of this is cold. Anything cold feels good on our hands, so as I was driving her to the bus, she had her hands plastered against the cold car windows. I felt sick, sending her, but she had done to much to prepare for the festival to just not show up.
Really, it's a testament to Glo that she went. Three days later, I can hardly hold the steering wheel, or push a grocery cart, fold clothes, or even type this blog post, and I'm still coming off the steroids. I can hardly imagine what she's feeling.
She auditioned, and all she could tell me was that she kept her wits about her. A grand thing to do considering the circumstances. I don't even want to think what her hands are feeling as she's sitting in rehearsals for eight hours a day.
And unfortunately, she didn't advance to All-States for violin. In fact, she finished 21st place. No joke, on any normal day, Glo couldn't finish 21st place if she tried. She's too naturally talented. But in this case, she did try her very best, and I think the fact that she even showed up classified her as a bonfide, committed musician, far more than any ranking.
"Don't Touch Anything."
This rule is taught to every beginning SCUBA diver. It's not only for the protection of the environment, but it's also for the protection of the diver.
On our second to last dive this week, Glo and I were once again the last ones in the water because we use our air so efficiently. It's rather fun to have 10-15 minutes extra time on the ocean floor with Glo, especially when we find one last unexpected creature. We were swimming around at about 50 feet, and I saw a huge sponge. Imagine a potter's wheel with a lump of clay on it. As the wheel begins to turn and the potter throws his thumbs into the center of the lump, a bowl is formed. This sponge "bowl" was at least four feet in diameter. Trying to be funny, I flipped upside down and stuck my head in the bowl, making it look like the sponge was eating me. I used my hands to enter and exit. I'll give Glo credit for humoring me, and possibly throwing a laugh my way.As we ascended to our three-minute safety stop, I grabbed the mooring line. Not because I need to, but because it's easier than trying to maintain my buoyancy at exactly 15 feet when I really want to practice my underwater dance moves. Glo tapped me on the shoulder and told me to let go of the rope. I wasn't sure why, so I grabbed it with the crook of my arm, while I looked at a sharp pain that was starting in between my fourth and pinky fingers on my left hand. Glo was having the same look at her hands at that point.
By the time we got up to the boat, we could hardly pull ourselves up the ladder because of the resemblance of the pain of glass shards covering the palms of our hands. Perhaps you've had fiberglass in your hands, or even a splinter that you can't see, but when it's rubbed or touched, you are acutely aware that it is there. But this felt like a thousand splinters, all over our palms. Our dive master sprayed down our hands with soap and told us to rub. If it was any kind of acid or protein, the pain would subside when the protein was removed.
Oh, the pain of doing this. Remember those splinters? Yep, aggressively rubbing them into our hands. At this point, Glo started crying, and I couldn't blame her. However, I knew that I was feeling nothing in comparison to her, because I had the luck of being on steroids.
Steroids are a curse, but I can't help feeling grateful for them because they are the only means I have to SCUBA dive. My sinuses are regularly inflamed, a condition not conducive to SCUBA diving. So, before I go on any dive trip, I begin a large, heavy, obnoxious dose of steroids so that I can sink to 90 feet without feeling like my head is going to explode. I hate taking them for many reasons--bloating, irritability, weight gain, sleeplessness--but this one time, it was a blessing. While they take the inflammation from my sinuses, they also relieve any other inflammation....including pain in my hands.
Glo and I couldn't even think of using our hands for the rest of the day. Just holding my hamburger at lunch was almost impossible, and don't get me started on opening doors, or washing my hair. I read online that if we had touched some thing, maybe there were actual pieces of that creature still in our hands. So, John went to the front desk of our hotel and got us duct tape. Oh the agony of ripping tape off our hands! When one of the janitors overheard John talking to the front desk people, he told us that he thought we had touched fire coral. The local remedy is to dump bleach on your hands, so he made up a concoction of bleach and soap and told us to go wash. As soon as I dumped that stuff on my hands, it was like I had just shoved my hands in a campfire. No relief, but at least I knew I wasn't spreading any bacterial infections :-) That night, we went out to dinner with our dive master, Mac, and I admitted to touching the sponge (while holding my hands in a meditative position throughout dinner). He reassured me that there was no sponge on the face of the planet that would do to my hands.
His best guess? Jellyfish on the mooring line. We had seen several jellies in the water. Little tiny things, in strings or balls. He's guessing that one of the strings got wrapped around the line, and Glo and I grabbed it.I'm still convinced it was the sponge.
Either way, I knew Glo was in a bit of trouble. This dive happened on Tuesday, and Thursday she was headed to PMEA Regional Orchestra Festival. That's orchestra--as in she needs to play the violin....in a competition. She had been practicing two hours a day on vacation in preparation--that's what musicians do, right? The show must go on, but as soon as this happened, there was no practicing.
The next day, we flew home, and it was agony for Glo and me to pull our suitcases through the airport. I couldn't even hold the pen to do my crossword puzzle on the airplane! I think Glo's body was in a state of shock, because she slept every moment she was on the plane.
Thursday morning dawned, and she woke up, ready to catch the bus to the festival. I tried to talk her out of going. After all, she's already advanced to All-States for voice, and she doesn't need to (and can't) go for both voice and orchestra. Nope, she was packed and ready to go, and by golly, she was getting on that bus.
And she couldn't even make a fist with her hand. In fact, the one comfort to us through all of this is cold. Anything cold feels good on our hands, so as I was driving her to the bus, she had her hands plastered against the cold car windows. I felt sick, sending her, but she had done to much to prepare for the festival to just not show up.
Really, it's a testament to Glo that she went. Three days later, I can hardly hold the steering wheel, or push a grocery cart, fold clothes, or even type this blog post, and I'm still coming off the steroids. I can hardly imagine what she's feeling.
She auditioned, and all she could tell me was that she kept her wits about her. A grand thing to do considering the circumstances. I don't even want to think what her hands are feeling as she's sitting in rehearsals for eight hours a day.
And unfortunately, she didn't advance to All-States for violin. In fact, she finished 21st place. No joke, on any normal day, Glo couldn't finish 21st place if she tried. She's too naturally talented. But in this case, she did try her very best, and I think the fact that she even showed up classified her as a bonfide, committed musician, far more than any ranking.
Man those darn jellyfish! Why do they have to be so small?
ReplyDeleteSo sad to hear of this incredible & painful event! Bravo Glo ! Something to tell your grandkids one day!
ReplyDelete