"I’d always had this image that attempting to save someone’s life would be this heroic act that would fill you with pride and satisfaction. In truth it leaves you numb.

Its a battle between feelings of public contribution and yet a crystal clear image of your shortcomings, between joy at being where someone needed you with the right skills and yet profound grief at not doing enough, between being the person that acted instead of the ones who just watched and horrible raging guilt…..

On the afternoon of July 31st my wife and I had just finished another fantastic dive with a good friend at the Point Lobos Reserve in Monterey California. We were busy rinsing off our gear when some hikers up the hillside shouted cries for help as they pointed out into the bay. Looking out I could see a single diver engulfed in kelp. I thought to myself “looks like some idiot has gotten himself tangled up”. The lifeguard stationed out there pulled the small Zodiac inflatable out of the shed and dropped it in the water. He asked me if I could help since I was still suited up. I grabbed my fins and a mask, jumped in the boat with another diver and prepped myself to extricate the guy from the kelp bed.

As we neared the diver my stomach turned in to knots as he screamed “Help Me!” over and over, and then seeing him struggling to keep the head of another diver above water. What I saw next simply sickened me. The other diver was obviously unconscious, and a shade of blue that seemed impossible for a person to achieve. I thought to myself “is that a dummy?”, the diver bore no resemblance to a live person. Death, or near-death, by drowning is ugly: it disfigures the face, the limpness of the body bears no resemblance to sleep as you might think, the blue skin from lack of oxygen is horrific, and mucous and salt water seems to come from every orifice. A body drowned is not what you imagine as human and it’s unbelievably frightening. There are no words to describe it and only people who have seen it can come close to understanding.

We rushed to pull the diver out of the arms of the buddy, heaving him un-ceremoniously onto the deck of the inflatable. Our adrenaline and shock were apparently in full swing, for the panicked treatment we gave the 200lb rag doll we had taken possession of disturbed me. The lifeguard hit the throttle on the outboard leaving the buddy behind telling him “I’ll come back for you, we need to get him to shore”. In hindsight I’m not sure if this was done truly for that purpose or to simply save the buddy from the shocking reality of watching CPR.

The other assisting diver on the inflatable probably vocalized what was in his head without realizing it. He coldly stated, “This guy is gone”. I think this was the triggering moment for me. It had been several years since my last CPR and Rescue diver classes. But the recollection that came from on of my CPR instructors long ago was “No matter how bad it looks, no matter how impossible the situation seems, never stop giving CPR until the professionals take possession”.

Without even thinking I pinched off the nose, tilted the head back and began breathing slow deep breaths into him. I had forgotten everything but this, I forgot to check if he was even breathing in the 1st place, I forgot to check pulse, I forgot to check for airway obstruction, I forgot all the steps I’d been taught and went on, rightly or wrongly, under instinct. I simply wanted to get air into his lungs and get this horrible situation reversed. All I knew is that every time I breathed his chest rose up and down, that air came out when I came up each time, and that when I got to shore he was more pink than blue.

Real CPR is nothing like the dummy they use in classes. Nothing can simulate the horror you feel when you’ve jumped off the edge and have committed to trying to bring someone back. You are completely alone, completely responsible for another person’s life, and completely and utterly terrified.

Exchanging breaths changes you to the core. I studied biology in college and understand the simple physical exchange of O2 that occurs across the capillaries in the lung. But what it truly felt like was that I was donating some small un-measurable essence life and taking on a measure of death in exchange. I literally felt black vaporous death pouring into my lungs. This physical feeling in my lungs lasted well after the incident and into the next day. Stupid and completely in my mind I know, but my unfortunate reality. I doubt that I will ever be the same after this, which is why I say it changes you to the core. You will never forget the event, the hopeless look of despair on the buddy, the distorted mucous covered face of the victim,…the stink of death on their breath.

But one thing is for sure, you will always do it again, in any situation, on any person, at any time it’s needed. You will never turn your back on another living thing after trying to save one. You have jumped off a cliff that you will continue to jump off of whenever life requires you to. You are changed, you are one of the people who will never sit idly by.

Upon reaching shore several firemen appeared and grabbed my diver from me. In my haze I calmly collected up the mask and fins I’d brought with me, stepped off the boat, walked past the firemen working on the wetsuit clad person strewn upon the boat ramp, and what occurred shortly after I cannot recall. The laser point focus you have in these events is like none I’ve ever experienced. I don’t remember the boat ride, I don’t remember if anyone even said anything, I don’t remember seeing or hearing any of the fire trucks, police cars or park service trucks coming to assist, nor do I remember when the 50 or more hikers and divers gathered around to stand in horrified silence.

Somehow I ended up back at the diver holding and squeezing the ambu-bag that my friend had expertly connected an O2 bottle to, and my wife shaving the divers chest under direction of the fireman/paramedic so he could attach the defibrillator pads. More rescue personnel kept arriving. When we were relieved there must have been 10 professionals feverishly working the diver, trying to get him to breathe on his own.

We stood near the bed of our truck 20 ft away in hope. I looked over and saw a couple firemen talking with the buddy who now hoodless looked to be in his mid-late teens. Overhearing some of the conversation I found that they had been down to only 40ft and only for 10min when something happened. I couldn’t hear that part on still do not know what happened. The most tragic and horrifying thing I’d over heard was that the buddy was the son.

This is when the reality of the situation truly hit me and haunts me 3 days later. I keep picturing this young son struggling to keep his own father’s head barely above water. The terror he must have felt screaming for help as his fathers skin turned bluer and bluer, unable to do anything but keep his mouth and nose above water. The helplessness and sheer anguish he must have felt sickens me to think about. It forces me to picture what it would be like for me to be that boy holding the head of one of my friends, my wife, my children….. these thoughts that I can’t shake, make me want to vomit several times a day.

The paramedics loaded the diver into an ambulance and hurried away, firemen escorted the son somewhere, fire trucks and police cars began backing out of the dusty parking lot and driving away. I stood there looking at a pile of sanitary medical gear wrappers tossed into the mud wondering if he was going to make it or not. A paramedic mentioned that he had a “slight pulse and that often thats a good sign” but you don’t really know. Maybe it’s truth, maybe it’s just what rescue folks tell ordinary folks who gave CPR to make them feel better as they whisk the victim off to the morgue.

I don’t know the outcome nor the cause of these couple hours, which likely makes it all the worse for me. How do you prevent an accident that you don’t understand? How do you get closure on a result you’ll never know? And this is why I’m left frightened and completely wrecked mentally… you never know when death or near-death will come to you, your friends, your family, your wife or your children. It can be by any method, at any time, to anyone. Its a feeling as helpless as a son holding his father’s head out of the water.

Two sons lost their innocence that day, that boy and myself. One 16-17, maybe with hopes of college, girls, good friends, or a new car. The other, 41 with a beautiful wife and 3 amazing daughters. Neither will be the same as they were before. One will wrongly blame himself for the loss of his father, likely forever. The other haunted at work and in sleep by the images of two strangers in the water". (Todd Preece, Divebums.com) 

• It was later reported that the gentleman did not survive.  I am researching CPR/First Aid classes if anyone is interested in joining me...