THE STAGE IS SET FOR FAILURE
My girlfriend later explained to me that as she descended to the sea floor, she felt she was not wanted by the instructors, and that she was being punished by them rather than supported and trained. The applied stress and mindset she experienced is obviously not a safe emotional substrate for life-support skills testing in any environment. The water the student were training in was less than ideal, at approximately 57 degrees in temperature with less than 2 meters visibility at a depth of 26-27 fsw. After she arrived at the bottom of the instruction line at 26-27 fsw, I saw her once again. She moved to the training line, and patiently waited for the younger instructor to arrive. So I would not distract her, I stayed behind her, out of her direct sight, at about 1.5 meters. During her hazing at the surface with the older SSI instructor, My Girlfriend’s regulator (which unknown to anyone was laden with sand) became increasingly flooded with the suspended sand. As she arrived on the bottom, the sand began to collect under the exhaust diaphragm, allowing a small amount of water to enter her regulator during inspiration, adding to her already high level stress. She was not taught the (easy) maneuver of how to clear her sandy regulator by flooding and purging.
PANIC SETS IN
Even with a leaking regulator, my girlfriend successfully performed the partially flooded mask clearing for the young SSI instructor. I maintained my position behind her, where I could partially observe the exercises without interfering and without distracting her. During full mask flood & clear exercise, she experienced difficulty when she felt like she could not get a water-free breath. This was due to the combination of her mask being half-full of seawater and the sand in the regulator exhaust valve allowing a spray of seawater with each inhalation. The younger instructor did not offer his regulator to avert her obvious stress of clearing. She began to panic from not getting a breath, so she reached for her octopus. Her instructor grabbed her hand to prevent this, and forced her to retry the exercise with her primary regulator. With no regulator in her mouth, my girlfriend’s stress skyrocketed, and panic was just moments away.
Seeing the problem from a distance, I moved in closer in case I needed to help. Upon my approach, the instructor pushed me away. I thought to myself, “I will allow five more seconds for the instructor to resolve this, then I’m taking over.”
TIME TO INTERVENE
At this time, my girlfriend began to choke and panic, pushed off the bottom and, with her regulator out of her mouth, screamed (blowing huge bubbles) and clawed for the surface. Unexpectedly, her instructor grabbed her left shoulder harness and held her on the bottom while forcefully shoving her primary regulator hard at her mouth. This motion resulted in striking her hard on her right cheek, missing her mouth completely. This shocked her further, and completely out of breath, caused my girlfriend to literally inhale water on her next ‘breath’. I actually saw her suck-inhale water when the tiny suspended debris in the water (around all of us) sharply moved into her mouth. The horrifying reality was she may have just experienced her death blow that instant.
Seeing that the instructor had completely lost control and that my girlfriend had just inhaled a ‘breath’ of water, I quickly moved in and shoved the SSI instructor off my girlfriend, grabbed her, and attempted to ascend. Not making progress towards the surface, I thought I must have had kelp wrapped on my SCUBA tank, so I kicked harder. Then my heel touched something solid and I realized the instructor was holding ME DOWN by grabbing my SCUBA tank! I kicked him off and rushed her to the surface.
The second we broke the surface I heard her gurgle and throw-up. She then made the effort to breathe, but all I heard was a horrible and distinct gurgle upon inhaling. Her first breath was used to beg me in a tiny pathetic but heart-wrenching plea “please save me Scott, “please save me,
“please save me”. Each syllable was joined by horrible deadly gurgles.
The woman I loved was begging for her life.
Incredibly, her Instructor surfaced and shoved me away from her, then began to yell at her to get her attention so he can continue her training!!! I realize he is oblivious to the grave nature of the situation due to inexperience, bad judgment, impatience or just ego and machismo. At this point, my experience in this exact injury (multiple times) over the years tells me that my girlfriend will die within minutes if she does not get advanced medical help… every second is precious to her survival. She was throwing up and coughing up seawater with a horrible and distinct gurgle upon inhaling. Her yells for me to save her were reduced to a feeble whispering gurgle I will never forget. The woman I love, was going to die within a few minutes if she did not get to shore and a hospital NOW. My two seconds of disbelief dissipated and I clicked into action. With my wetsuit-gloved hand, I slapped the Instructor upside the head to get his attention, then as he turned his head to see what happened, I pulled off his mask and punched him (with low-intensity) in the nose twice to shock him off my girlfriend so I could save her life.
To further stop the young Instructor’s ignorant and deadly actions, I yelled at him “You assaulted her you Son of a Bitch and I will shut you down if you touch her!!! … I will shut you down if you do ANYTHING more!” The second he released her, I instantly grabbed her, rolled her on her back, then to her side to let her drain & throw up seawater without letting her face hit the water again. I madly swam and towed her towards shore.
Nearing shore, I yelled at the top of my lungs (several times) for someone to “call 911” and that this was a “Diver Emergency”. Thank God I heard someone yell back “OK!”. As I pulled her to shore, my emotions surfaced for a second and I told her “PLEASE BREATHE BABY!!! PLEASE DONT DIE BABY! BREATHE BABY, C’MOM BABY BREATHE”. Almost instantly I heard her SSI Instructor rudely and sarcastically say “She is NOT going to die” followed but under-the-breath “
dip-****” .
Not only was he following me against my wishes, and even though he could easily hear her pleas and gurgles with each horribly labored breath, he was still oblivious that she was facing death and continued to taunt me. I ignored him and began to shed her weights. The instructor approached us yet again (I think to help release her gear or weights), but based on his previous actions I simply yelled “NO!” As she and I reached the surf-line, about seven wonderful people jumped in and grabbed her to strip the remaining gear off her, then help take her through the surf to shore. They performed perfectly as I struggled to ditch all of my gear and join her, but found my right arm stuck in my straps. This just doesn’t happen to me… I never get stuck in my own gear but it had to happen right then! A diver happened to move up next to me and I asked him for help. He instantly pulled the strap off my trapped right elbow and my gear flung-off. Within 30-40 seconds I was back at her side.
STRANGERS BECOME HEROES
To my tentative relief, there was already oxygen being administered to my girlfriend by a USCG PO3! As my focus broadened, I noticed six other divers were there helping her as well – none were her instructors, none were from her class. They were all perfect strangers. A diver (in full wetsuit) arrived who identified himself as a physician. Then, within a few seconds, a paramedic arrived (also in full wetsuit). Everyone helping my girlfriend on the beach commented on the gurgling and showed the appropriate fear for her life. Less than three minutes later the ambulance arrived, the paramedics asked me her name, loaded her and were off in just moments.
As she was loaded into the ambulance I was told I could not go… I was horrified and crushed but just then a police officer told me he would escort me to the hospital and show me the way. During the ride my girlfriend said the two Medics were wonderful… helping sit her up so she could cough up “cups of seawater” that splashed on her front and floor. My girlfriend was terrified, but remembered their kindness and professionalism. I ran to change out of my dive gear and into my clothes, get my wallet, keys and her purse and ran to the car. The police officer was already next to my car and ready to go!
At CHOMP (
Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula), my girlfriend went to the emergency room where she was immediately stripped of the wetsuit (it was cut off) and assessed. Within less than a minute, they determined she was dying from the water in her lungs so they decided to intubate her immediately. I bent over her head and explained what was about to happen and I saw the fragility of her life and fear in her eyes as they teared up. She was not sure if she would ever see me again. The sweetest girl I had ever met… that after 47 years stole my heart for the first time… was dying right in front of me and I was helpless to stop it. I rubbed her feet as the dozen medical professionals fought for her life. She was chemically paralyzed, intubated, and hooked up to life support. The heart wrenching sight of the one you love slipping in and out of a chemically induced coma and attempting to remove her intubation because of the terror of suffocation while strangers hold you down… brings a set of feelings beyond description. I wanted to kill the two SSI Instructors that did this to her… I wanted to die if she did… I wanted to take away all of her pain and fear by enduring it myself. All of this happened in my heart at the same time.
MOVING FROM THE ER TO ICU
In a short time it a lung specialist was called to use a bronchoscope to search inside my girl’s lungs for water. But first, she needed to be moved from the ER to the ICU. My girlfriend’s tubes and lines were transferred to mobile carts and her ventilator was disconnected and a technician began to breathe for her manually with an ‘Ambu-Bag’. I was told I could not be there and to wait in the ICU waiting area.
It took all of my will to force myself comply. Walking to the waiting room and away from her was the LAST thing I wanted to do. The moments of calm allowed the recent events to hit me face-on and realize how bad things were… and the individuals responsible for it… mainly the young SSI SCUBA instructor that held her underwater during her panic. This image and the related HATRED and DREAD will stay with me until my last day of life. I sank down in the hallway against the wall and let it out. In the ICU, my girlfriend was prepped for the Doctor to perform a bronchoscopy and search for seawater, sand and vomit inside her lungs. The doctor was Dr. Karim Tadlaoui and he took the time to tell me exactly what was going to happen and in the conversation he obviously discovered I was very familiar with medicine so he told me I could stay for the procedure at the entrance to the room. I took up my position as they gave my girlfriend more sedative to make certain she did no awake in the middle of the procedure. Then sharply a nurse told me to leave and get to the waiting room. Not wanting a confrontation to distract the doctor I left… walked off, then around the nurse’s station, waited for her to be busy, then, In my typical fashion, I snuck back in just out of the nurse’s sight. Dr. Karim Tadlaoui searched her lungs and found enough seawater to kill her twice over… and promptly suctioned it out of both of her lungs. With great relief, he found no sand or vomit in her lungs. The CHOMP ER/ICU team saved her from drowning but now she faced potential congestive heart failure and pneumonia, both of which could easily end her life. I later learned on the SSI Instructor’s SCUBA dive shop Facebook’s page that at this EXACT MOMENT… the Instructors were celebrating a great dive day with their students, giving hang loose signs and making faces for the cameras… without regard for the terrible fight for life my girlfriend was enduring. The pictures are on my computer as a reminder to the disgusting lack of humanity these two Instructors seem to display proudly.
That night in the ICU things settled into a bad-dream-like setting. Kind and superiorly-skilled nurses constantly adjust, monitor and hurt the one you love but you know it must be done. Arterial lines were attempted and failed, then eventually shoved into my girlfriend’s wrist artery. She was tied down to prevent her from removing the airway tube that was keeping her alive. Pain medications, antibiotics, paralyzing drugs were given to her each minute of the night keeping her in a coma-like state. All I could do was to stroke her hair, her hand and kiss her cheek while she clung to life with a machine breathing for her. I must have told her I loved her a thousand times.
Occasionally, she would awake and hand sign me she needed to write something. I gave her a pen and held a clipboard with paper on it. She tried several times to write a word but just couldn’t. Her frustration was obvious and it brought her to an increase of heart rate, oxygen delivery and it would hurt her throat from her breathing tube moving within her throat. She would collapse and lightly convulse as she faded into unconsciousness. Finally she was able to write a short sentence. Her writing was big at first fading into smaller letters until the pen simply dragged at the end from exhaustion. I studied it and realized what it said: “You… saved me” . The second I read it I looked into her eyes. They were teary and grateful. I moved to her head, held her and cried with her. She passed out from exhaustion and it almost looked like she died. It was a horrifying feeling and only her vital signs on the monitors quickly dispelled the concern. The longest night of my life followed when I watched the girl I love on lifesupport. Each of her breaths were mechanically administered by a 75 pound machine. She was kept in a chemically induced coma. Her vital signs were as low as I had ever seen on a living person. Her blood pressure was a low 64/32 to 78/46 all night. She would occasionally struggle to consciousness and fight her wrist restraints in an effort to remove her breathing tube with expressions of absolute terror. All I could do was hold her hand and kiss her beautiful forehead and whisper to her I was there and that the tube was saving her life. She was fighting with each precious second to get better.
All night, CHOMP’s elite and compassionate nurses would come in and access her condition, lower the oxygen level administered by her mechanical ventilator and check her breathing effort, blood oxygen and blood pressure to see if they could ween her off the machine. Every so often they would take blood samples directly from her artery to check for arterial blood gasses. The process seemed to take forever.