My boyfriend and I just got back Sunday night after doing a back-to-back 13-day cruise in the western caribbean on Carnival. We had a great time and did some terrific dives, but wow, the last few days of the trip just about did me in. I told him he managed to panic me three times and so he's used up his quota for the year.
First, while we were diving with another friend (a beginner diver), he got away from me when I had an ear clearing problem on ascent. I lost sight of him, and so kept an eye on my friend, which was my job as a divemaster. When I finally got back to the boat my friend was sitting on the stern, and I asked him "Where's Russ?" He said, he's in the boat, I think. Well, he wasn't. After 10 minutes of near panic on the surface looking for his bubbles, he finally surfaced. Turned out his spare regulator, which he leaves free-floating for students, had become entangled in antler coral and he couldn't free himself. He finally had to remove his equipment, brace himself, and break the coral to get free. He surfaced out of air and redlined. Strike one.
Then, on the last day of diving, we were having a blast. We had just finished two days of four dives, all very deep. He got back on the boat and was in immediate serious pain from a heart valve problem he has. I supported him, along with a crewman, and we slowly walked back to the cabin. After several hours, he came out of it and was fine. It was the first time I had ever seen him take a hit, as he calls it. Strike two.
Then, the evening before we disembarked in Tampa, he wasn't feeling well again. He appeared to be having some heart pain, but something else was going on, too. It ended up that I had to put him in a wheelchair at all the airports, plus handle all the bags, etc. He was really sick and I was afraid they wouldn't let us fly. When we got to Tucson, he was obviously so sick, that the airport police came over to check on him. Over his very loud objections, I asked them to call the paramedics. Then the fireworks began. He's a retired psychologist, former Vietnam-era Navy Seal, and kickboxer. He'll take you on mentally and physically. We spent an hour outside the airport trying to get him to go to the hospital. They brought the ambulance, ladder truck, and about 10 firemen and paramedics, plus about four airport police. I've never gone through anything so scary in my life. I was begging him in every way possible to agree to go to the hospital. I finally put my foot down after they took his vitals and said to take him, knowing that it was against his wishes and he would be furious. He was, but the great firemen took charge. By the time they took him away, I was ready to collapse and was shaking badly. The airport police got our luggage, took me to my truck, and the fire chief drove me to the hospital. They went above and beyond the call of duty.
I got to the hospital, and he told me I was in the penalty box (yeah right). But, he suddenly was alert, coherent, and seemed good. He refused additional tests and I took him home, again supporting his weight as he walked out to my truck. Strike three.
Then, we walked in the house, I turned on the lights, and the floor glittered. My two lovely furry children had worked together to strip the tinsel garland off the Christmas tree and scatter pieces of tinsel throughout the house. Cheyenne also chewed up my Hallmark pink Cadillac ornament. Fortunately, she had the sense not to chew any of the Mustang ornaments. Russ didn't notice the tinsel when we first went in and he dropped into bed, but he told me later that he got up in the middle of the night to get a drink and turned the light on and thought he was hallucinating because the floor was sparkling. Oh year, the turds in the litter box glitter, too.
In the end, we figured that it wasn't his heart, but rather that he had food poisoning. He also forgave me for having him strong-armed into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. He also agreed to go see his doctor as soon as he got back down to Mexico yesterday and to give me the names of his prescriptions, which he didn't have with him. He had put his pills in a baggie for the trip!
Oh yeah, we're going to try this again in March. I hope I survive.
First, while we were diving with another friend (a beginner diver), he got away from me when I had an ear clearing problem on ascent. I lost sight of him, and so kept an eye on my friend, which was my job as a divemaster. When I finally got back to the boat my friend was sitting on the stern, and I asked him "Where's Russ?" He said, he's in the boat, I think. Well, he wasn't. After 10 minutes of near panic on the surface looking for his bubbles, he finally surfaced. Turned out his spare regulator, which he leaves free-floating for students, had become entangled in antler coral and he couldn't free himself. He finally had to remove his equipment, brace himself, and break the coral to get free. He surfaced out of air and redlined. Strike one.
Then, on the last day of diving, we were having a blast. We had just finished two days of four dives, all very deep. He got back on the boat and was in immediate serious pain from a heart valve problem he has. I supported him, along with a crewman, and we slowly walked back to the cabin. After several hours, he came out of it and was fine. It was the first time I had ever seen him take a hit, as he calls it. Strike two.
Then, the evening before we disembarked in Tampa, he wasn't feeling well again. He appeared to be having some heart pain, but something else was going on, too. It ended up that I had to put him in a wheelchair at all the airports, plus handle all the bags, etc. He was really sick and I was afraid they wouldn't let us fly. When we got to Tucson, he was obviously so sick, that the airport police came over to check on him. Over his very loud objections, I asked them to call the paramedics. Then the fireworks began. He's a retired psychologist, former Vietnam-era Navy Seal, and kickboxer. He'll take you on mentally and physically. We spent an hour outside the airport trying to get him to go to the hospital. They brought the ambulance, ladder truck, and about 10 firemen and paramedics, plus about four airport police. I've never gone through anything so scary in my life. I was begging him in every way possible to agree to go to the hospital. I finally put my foot down after they took his vitals and said to take him, knowing that it was against his wishes and he would be furious. He was, but the great firemen took charge. By the time they took him away, I was ready to collapse and was shaking badly. The airport police got our luggage, took me to my truck, and the fire chief drove me to the hospital. They went above and beyond the call of duty.
I got to the hospital, and he told me I was in the penalty box (yeah right). But, he suddenly was alert, coherent, and seemed good. He refused additional tests and I took him home, again supporting his weight as he walked out to my truck. Strike three.
Then, we walked in the house, I turned on the lights, and the floor glittered. My two lovely furry children had worked together to strip the tinsel garland off the Christmas tree and scatter pieces of tinsel throughout the house. Cheyenne also chewed up my Hallmark pink Cadillac ornament. Fortunately, she had the sense not to chew any of the Mustang ornaments. Russ didn't notice the tinsel when we first went in and he dropped into bed, but he told me later that he got up in the middle of the night to get a drink and turned the light on and thought he was hallucinating because the floor was sparkling. Oh year, the turds in the litter box glitter, too.
In the end, we figured that it wasn't his heart, but rather that he had food poisoning. He also forgave me for having him strong-armed into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. He also agreed to go see his doctor as soon as he got back down to Mexico yesterday and to give me the names of his prescriptions, which he didn't have with him. He had put his pills in a baggie for the trip!
Oh yeah, we're going to try this again in March. I hope I survive.
