Once upon a time- A Scuba Diver's Carbon Monoxide Poisoning Survival Story

Once upon a time (isn't that the way all good stories begin?), only a few years after I was certified as a new scuba diver, I signed up to go on a group dive trip to the tiny tropical island of Eden Isle, located in the clear, turquoise waters just off the coast of British Honduras [became the independent country of Belize in 1981] in Central America. I was around the ripe ole age of 26 years - foot loose and fancy-free, and working full time. It was vacation time and I was headed out on an adventure of a lifetime! I was excited! I was charged! I would be diving on the longest barrier reef in the Western Hemisphere - 185 miles long - second in size only to the Great Barrier Reef in Australia! I wanted to be under water and was ready for the challenge. Our group had been told by the dive master of the trip that we'd have the opportunity to dive in one of the world's three largest Blue Holes - something so new and foreign to me I wasn't even sure why I should be excited about making this dive, except that the old pro's ears all perked up when they heard the news, so I figured it must be something great! I'd been on a number of other dive trips to salt water and each one had proven to be different than the one before...they were all awesome and unique to me. I loved the great visibility, unlimited variety of new things to see and do in each new and unexplored part of the world. I had only recently begun to perfect my underwater photography skills and was looking forward to taking home some prize-winning pictures to share with all my land loving friends and family.

When our flight landed in Belize City I was immediately horrified as I peered out of the airplane window and noticed the strong presence of a military - jets, tankers, jeeps, tents, small camouflaged makeshift hangars and other camo hiding places lining both sides of the runway - and guns, oh my gosh, guns and cannon-like machines! I'd heard of drug traffic in certain parts of the Southern continents, but "Geeze Louise!" what part of the briefing for this trip did I miss? I was to learn that the British Army was in place to secure this area, but that trouble had pretty much subsided and we could expect our trip to be eventless in the sense of any kind of uprising. Whew! That was a big relief!

After going through the normal procedures with Customs and Immigrations, our group of about 24 people were all finally cleared to be in this new country. We loaded all our bags (and on a scuba trip there are bags! - normal clothes, dive equipment, and for some of us, the extra camera equipment) into taxi cabs and taxi vans. Our parade of vehicles zipped up and down the threadlike streets and headed into one of the shopping areas in Belize City. We were on a quest to find a little "wood carving" shop that specialized in a variety of wooden sculptures. We'd been told to place our orders upon arrival into Belize, and pick up our "goods" at the end of the week. The carvings would be made out of Ziricote, a very hard, dark wood, sanded and then polished by local artists while we were off in diving paradise. I ordered a dolphin, one of my favorite sea creatures.

From there, we headed down the narrow roads to the town pier, where we were to meet the two old boats that would take us on the water portion of our ride for the next 1 1/2 hours - North of Belize City, past Ambergris Caye, to the small island of Eden Isle, which was to be our home away from home for the next week. I remember it was early evening when we departed from the tattered dock and headed out to sea. The feel of the wind blowing my hair and the spray of salt water coating my lips with the taste of the ocean only made me more & more excited to be a part of this trip and heightened my anticipation of the diving to come. As the trip progressed, the ocean calmed and the moon slid effortlessly up over the horizon while we skimmed along. By the time we arrived at Eden Isle, we were greeted by the glow of lighted torches randomly situated on the tiny island. We could make out silhouettes of the little thatched-roofed cabins scattered amongst the tropical palms. We walked down the long pier, carrying only our small bags, and slid our bare feet and toes onto the soft sand ----- ahhhhhhhhhhh, the life!

We went to check in and get our cabin assignments, then supper was waiting for us in the larger dining hut. Everything was so peaceful, so calm. The evening breeze was gentle, the smell of salty air and the sounds of the waves lapping quietly upon the shoreline made me feel totally laid back. Excitement sparked among all the divers - after a long day of travel - by air, by land, by sea - we were finally here, relaxed and happy to be at the place where our next week would be filled with new adventures and new friendships. If we only knew then just what a week it would be!!!

(Part 2)

At the first light of dawn, I hopped out of my bed, jumped into my clothes and was out the door for some early morning exploration. The sand outside my cabin was warm and soft to my bare feet and toes. I stretched really big and stood under the tall palms and took in my surroundings. The tiny island was chattery with the sounds of the birds. The only other person I saw was a local man raking the sand around the cabins. The ocean was basically motionless, with just very gentle waves lapping up onto the smooth sandy beach. It was early enough that the sky didn't even have much color yet, but I could tell it was going to be a fabulous day! I walked out to the beach and a little way down the shoreline. I love watching sea gulls and all the ocean birds swooping towards the water or just soaring overhead. My feet made scrunching sounds in the wet sand, and I was so close to the waters edge that my footprints would fill up with water behind me. The tranquility of the morning was exhilarating and it made me feel so happy to be there.

After saying my "good mornings" to God and this peaceful new world, I ventured back past the cabin area and on down toward the little dive hut. The long pier jutted out into the water and two boats were tied to the pilings. They seemed to have an invisible finger wagging my direction saying, "Come on aboard. Let us take you diving." I knew that time would come later in the day - and I knew the wait would be well worth it. When I got to the diving hut a couple of local boys were there filling scuba tanks. At the dive shop where I worked part time and assisted with dive classes, our tanks were filled from an electric compressor. That's all I'd ever seen. However, at the hut the compressor was gas driven. It was quite loud and the smell of exhaust was a bit nauseous in comparison to the early morning fresh air, so I moved upstream of the fumes and watched these dark-skinned boys for a few minutes. They had the tanks submerged in water during the filling process, and they were watching the gauges, so I wandered off feeling they obviously knew what they were doing.

By this time others had started stirring and before long our group had gathered for breakfast. Our trip dive master was Jim Fuller, and he gave us the run down for the day. Since the local dive masters didn't know us, they had requested our first dive of the week be made in front of the resort, using the pier as our starting point. The water depth was only 20 - 30 feet, they could observe our entry into the water from the pier, and they could watch our diving in a shallow environment. This was nothing new to me - many dive resorts had this same policy. It allowed everyone to get the proper weight on their belts and for those who hadn't been diving regularly, they could get the feel of things again. I realized the visibility wouldn't be so great that close in to shore, and I figured the scenery wouldn't be the best, BUT, I always had the theory that it was always better to start out with a dive which couldn't be described as perfect because that way you always had something better to look forward to.

I was actually quite surprised to find there was a nice variety of fish and underwater creatures to see in this inland dive area. I buddied up with a diver named Tom Rioux who I had dived with before in Lake Travis during open water check out dives and who had been part of dive group on previous salt water trips. We were both experienced divers, and in 25ish feet of water, our tanks of air lasted quite a while. After about an hour of exploring, we went into a bit of a silly stage. We turned underwater flips, we floated around up-side-down, we laid on the ocean floor and had air ring blowing contests with other divers joining in. We played lip reading games by pulling our regulators out of our mouths and "talking" to each other. When we failed to understand what the other was saying we would write notes on underwater slates which we carried attached to our buoyancy compensator. The dive area was largely sand as we were too shallow for the big sponges and larger formations of corals.

After the dive, we all headed back to shore for lunch, with the promise from the satisfied local dive masters that our afternoon dive would be off the boats in deeper water. Yes! From that point on, with the exception of the day we would dive the Blue Hole, we would be making two boat dives in the morning and one more in the afternoon. At least one night dive was planned for the week. Night diving is absolutely awesome!!! We would be allowed to snorkel around the pier as much as we wanted.

We all met in the dining area and had a wonderful lunch! It seems we had some kind of chicken, but I know we also had rice and beans and fruit - that seemed to be the norm on the island menus in this area. Actually, there was no menu per say, we just ate what we were served - and that was just fine with me!

After lunch, I loaded film into my camera, checked to make sure everything was secure on my camera setup and headed to the boats for my first dip into the deeper water off Eden Isle. Our group went out on two boats. One almost looked like an oversized fishing boat and I would guess held 6 people, but the other was a flat bottom dive boat, with a level deck and room for all the rest of the divers. Each boat had a captain and a dive master on board.

I was on the larger boat. I'm the kind of diver who, unless I have someone inexperienced to watch over, is the first person off the boat in almost all instances. I figure why waste time above the water when I can be at least "in" the water or "under" the water! Before the anchor was even dropped, I was completely ready to make my entry, with the exception of donning my fins and moving my mask from around my neck to my face. I set my bottom timer to zero, listened to the dive master's briefing, waited for the boat captain's nod, then stepped up to the back of the boat, put on my fins, adjusted my mask, told everyone on the boat "see ya!" and made a giant stride entry into the water. Someone on the boat handed my camera gear down to me and I floated on the surface waiting for my slow poke dive partners. I made sure the seal on my mask was good, blew salt water out of my snorkel, and just laid face-down gazing toward the ocean bottom, roughly 80' below.

The visibility was great! With the exception of the loss of reds and oranges and yellows, the bottom seemed an arms length away, and appeared to be a huge overgrown garden! Within just a few minutes my two dive partners, Tom Rioux again, and Jim Fuller, had joined me. After some chatter and then a final "OK" signal amongst us, we were ready to begin our descent. We set the bezels on our watches, switched from snorkels to regulators, and started letting air out of our buoyancy compensators to slowly began a direct descent, not following the anchor line, but just dropping in a totally controlled manner and looking around in awe as we gently approached the bottom. Underwater, you can actually "trim" yourself much in the same manner as one would trim an aircraft. I could trim myself to become totally neutral in weight with the slightest touch of the air valve on my compensator. I could stop myself from a descent on a dime!

I'm sure we all reached the bottom at about the same time, but I was totally focused on the landscape spread before me. I was aware Tom was about 6 yards off my right side and Jim was hovering above me and off to my left. The very first thing that caught my eye was a red and white banded coral shrimp (I sometimes called them Candy-Cane Shrimp!) down inside a deep bowl-shaped, pinkish purple sponge. I suspect the reason I could see such vivid color at that depth is because my mind knew the true colors of each one. I settled on my knees and slowly leaned over and put my face all the way down to the opening of the sponge. I distinctly remember doing this!! Both the shrimp and sponge were extremely delicate looking - a true symbiotic relationship in nature.

The next thing I remember is a flash of a thought telling me I needed to leave and go to the surface. I can't even tell you why I had such a thought. I also remember being acutely aware that I was breathing underwater - like the fish - not a worry in the world!!

A great descent, an awesome view, pinkish-purple sponge, banded coral shrimp, leaning over to put my face all the way to the mouth of the sponge, a brief sensation that I should to go to the surface, awareness of breathing underwater......

..........soft, soft hands......the murmur of voices, sounding far away......just a murmur, nothing being said in particular.......I hear my name being spoken far, far away......murmurs......soft hands.......I hear my name.......deep voices.......my name.......

......I strain to open my eyes.......they're so very heavy......the voices continue.......soft, soft hands........my name.......someone is calling my name.........I finally succeed in peeping my eyes open a bit.....all I see is black faces, some are men, some are women......a circle of them above me.......I close my eyes.....I feel soft hands.......I hear my name.........I slowly open my eyes again.......I see black faces, but I also hear Jim Fuller's voice.....I close my eyes.......people keep saying "wake up"......the soft hands squeeze my hands......again I force my eyes open and this time I see Jim's face too......he looks very concerned.......I'm so tired.......I hear a helicopter........Jim is talking quite loudly to me.......no one will let me just sleep......Jim keeps telling me I need to wake up......there is no passage of time, no confusion........

........new voices......more muffled conversation.......a new feeling of hands - gentle, but not so soft.......Jim is still calling my name, telling me to wake up.......again I open my eyes.......I see a new black face - a large man standing above me - a smile - very white teeth......very calm......he tells me it is very important that I listen to him, and very important that I stay awake.......he asks me my name - I tell him.......he wants to know how old I am - I tell him.......he asks me what day it is - I tell him.......he asks if I know where I am - I say Eden Isle.......he asks me if I know this man (points to Jim) - I say "Jim Fuller"......he asks me how many fingers he's holding up - I answer 3......he asks me to spell my last name - I tell him.......he asks if I know I'm at Ambergris Caye - I say no......he asks if I remember going diving - I say yes, and for the first time I think about that sponge and shrimp I had just looked at. Now, for the first time, I feel a slight twinge of confusion.....I'm feeling cold.....my body is starting to tremble.......he tells me to stay awake, then asks me to follow his finger with my eyes. I do as he says, but it is SO hard. I'm shaking even more......and I can't stop it. I can feel every part of my body shaking. Someone places a blanket over me, and I'm aware of someone removing the long pants I was wearing to protect my legs from the coral. I'm still shaking - uncontrollably now. I just want to go to sleep. I'm not the least bit concerned......I'm not the least bit scared.......I'm not the least bit worried........I'm not the least bit curious.......I'm just shaking and very tired.

Jim starts talking to me. He tells me I've had an accident while diving. He tells me I'll be OK, but that I have to go see a doctor. He tells me a helicopter is waiting to take me to the hospital. I ask him to stay with me - he assures me he will not leave me. All I can think about is the shaking. I didn't even think once of asking what happened. Nothing hurt. I wasn't worried. I felt myself being lifted off the ground. I didn't know what I was laying on. I was just tired and kept sleeping. I was being bounced a bit......I could hear men's voices.......I could feel the soft hands again.......I was shaking so badly........

It seemed I bounced for a long time. I was aware of hearing the sounds of a helicopter growing louder and louder. I don't remember being lifted into the helicopter, but I do remember new voices, and Jim, telling me to wake up. I remember feeling the helicopter lift off the ground. The new voices wouldn't let up......"Stephanie, you need to wake up"......."Stephanie, open your eyes"........"good girl - now keep them open".......

.......Army men.......big wide open place where a door should be.......I could see we were skimming right at tree top level......huge open door.......voices continuing to tell me to wake up.....I look around enough to see that Jim is still with me.......the inside of the helicopter is all Army green....and big......the Army guys just won't quit talking.......they're not black.......lush, thick green leaves brushing against the bottom of the helicopter.......I see the leaves each time I open my eyes........I wish I could control my shaking........I need to sleep......

.......I hear changes in the engine sounds........I feel the helicopter land........finally, I can sleep......no - the voices just keep telling me to wake up........I want to be warm........the shaking is starting to hurt........people are lifting me.......I'm placed onto something softer, and I can tell it's on wheels.......I'm moving across a bumpy surface, then to a smooth surface........I'm inside a building........lots of voices........I'm feeling sick.........PLEASE quit shaking!.......I'm feeling really sick.......I think I told someone I was feeling sick, and about that time I rolled a bit to the side and threw up.......I could hear the stuff hitting the floor...........I felt bad about that.........

......I'm in an ice cold room now.......new people are trying to get me to sit up.......Jim is still there helping hold me up........I can tell I'm being checked over, but I have not a care in the world - let them do whatever they want......I just want to quit shaking. I'm aware my wet t-shirt and bathing suit are being removed - so what? I feel a warm blanket being wrapped around me, and it feels good, but I'm still shaking. I hear someone say something about needing to get me out of shock. Never a worry - no fear what-so-ever, still totally unaware of what was really going on......and didn't care. They want me to sit up at an X-ray machine......I simply can't do it......I truly AM trying, but I cannot stay awake. Jim finally talks to me in a bit of a stern voice, telling me it's important and that I need to cooperate. I always cooperate, but right this minute I just can't stay awake, and I can't hold myself upright. I can't say anything to him, but I'm thinking it. I think he knows. It would be almost a week before I would see him again.

I hear noises.......far away noises........muffled noises.........I just lay still and listen. I hear a whooshing noise I can't make sense of. I feel heavy. I just lay there. I realize I'm slowly waking up. I listen carefully. Most of the noises sound far away. I finally get to where I can get my eyes to crack open a bit. I see light - like daylight. I see white. It's too bright. I close my eyes.

After a few minutes of listening, I try to open my eyes again. I feel something on my face. I can feel sheets over me. This time my eyes are a bit more adjusted and the light isn't quite so bright. I don't move anything except my eyes. I look around and realize I have no idea where I am. I'm in a small room - with white walls - that's what I see in front of me. I turn my head slightly to the left and see a door that's a bit ajar. I can hear noises coming from somewhere outside the door. I still hear the whooshing noise. I move my eyes, and head, slowly to the right and I see another door. I can see a sink beyond the door. I see two windows. They're tall windows, and the window sill is low - almost to the floor. The windows are open, and there are screens on them. The bottom of the screen on one window is torn. It looks like a jungle outside the window.

"Where am I? What is going on? Why am I in this room? I remember shaking, but I'm not shaking now. Don't move. Something is going on. What is that on the wall? It's a green glob." I move my feet. They seem to work OK. I move my legs a bit. They work too. I move my hand to feel what is on my face. "Something's on my cheek and in my nose!" I turn my head further to the left. I see a machine and a large green tank. "What in the world is going on? This looks like an oxygen tank!" I feel my face more and find I'm wearing one of those apparatus that delivers oxygen to you via a nose tube! "Where am I? What is happening? Jim? Where is Jim? I remember he was with me, and he said he wouldn't leave me."

SPLAT!! Something just hit my leg! "IT'S A FROG!! A FAT, GREEN FROG!! It must have jumped from the wall, and now it's on my leg!! What if it jumps again and lands on my face?" I must have squealed, as about that time the door of my room flew open and a big, black lady in a white uniform came charging in. She scared me half to death!! She started talking to me, but I couldn't understand a word she said. I remember pointing to the frog. She scooped it up and shoved it out the hole in the screen! "Wonderful......don't cha just know that thing can hop right back in??"

She moved over to the bed, shook a thermometer and stuck it in my mouth, then she started to take my blood pressure. I reached up to remove the tubes from my face and she intercepted my hand with a gentle force that told me not to fight her. She took my pulse, then removed the thermometer. I remember watching her big brown eyes, and finally asked her why I was there. She just smiled. Then she started messing around under the sheets and I realized I had a catheter!! "I'm definitely not liking this!" I told her I wanted that thing out! She said something to me, but I still couldn't understand what she was saying. She left.

I must have dozed off. The next thing I remember was a man's voice. I opened my eyes to see two doctor-looking guys standing beside the bed. They were young, they were white, they looked kind. They started talking to me, and I couldn't believe what they were saying. They told me they were British Army doctors who had been working in Belize for the past 8 months. They told me I was in the hospital in Belmopan, the capitol of Belize. They said I had been involved in a diving accident the day before and had passed out 80 feet below the water! "OH MY GOSH!!! HOW COULD THAT POSSIBLY BE??? I would have known if I'd passed out - wouldn't I?" They said I had been brought to this hospital the afternoon before in one of their military helicopters and I was in pretty bad shape. They told me I had a lot of salt water in my lungs and that was the reason I was on oxygen. They told me I would have to stay in the hospital until my lungs were clear, which would take time. I remember I couldn't even ask questions - all of this just sounded too much like a very bad dream. I guess I just told them OK, but I do remember asking that the catheter be removed and they told me they'd send a nurse in.

When the nurse came in she removed the catheter and then wanted me to step into the bathroom, which was where I had noticed a sink. She removed the oxygen tube from my face and helped me out of bed. "HEY! I can get myself to the bathroom, if you don't mind." BUT......no, I couldn't! She had hold of me and it's a mighty good thing too; otherwise, I would have crumpled right onto the floor...and the bathroom door was a mere two steps from the foot of my bed. "How can this be??" She let me use the bathroom, but wouldn't shut the door. I had to hold onto a metal bar just to be able to even sit up. "This is down right crazy!" About that time I started feeling like I was suffocating. I couldn't even talk. I couldn't get a breath of air. I definitely started feeling very panicky! I guess she noticed me struggling, because she helped me get back to the edge of the bed and sit down, then put the oxygen back on my face. "WHOA! That made a huge difference!" Once I was laying back down, she showed me (and understand, this lady was jabbering away to me the whole time, but she definitely spoke a different language than English, and our sole communication was gesture-related) that she was going to give me a shot - in the hip! I'm a tough girl. I really am. But that shot hurt more than anything I can ever remember having happen to me. I gripped the cold metal tubing that made up the frame of the bed and thought I was going to crumple it. It felt like the shot was thick goo that she had to push and push to get inside of me. Even after she left, I could barely move. Tears poured down my face, but I don't think I made a peep.

I don't remember much about the rest of that day. I guess I remember hearing sounds from time-to-time, but for the most part I must have slept. I do remember a different nurse coming in late in the day and repeating that shot ordeal again, and after the second one I couldn't imagine ever doing that again! I also remember still not worrying, or even thinking about, the diving accident, my friends, what might have happened.......just nothing.

The second morning when I woke up I needed to go to the bathroom and decided I could handle it on my own. I was able to get to the bathroom by holding onto the bed, and then the door, but I felt totally like a rag doll. Without the oxygen, breathing was a definite challenge. I realized I needed to tend to business quickly so I could get back to that nose tube. I made it OK, but couldn't believe how incredibly weak I was - and how hard it was to breath.

Later that morning, I had to endure a third shot. I was at my wits end! I could never allow that to happen again. The two doctors finally came again and told me they wanted me to start sitting up some, and cranked the bed into a reclining position. They also told me they wanted to start weaning me off the oxygen. I talked to them about the shots, and asked if there wasn't some way I could take the same medicine in pill form. I told them how very bad they hurt. Thank Heavens! They felt pity for me and were able to order that change. They said they would send a wheel chair for me and I would go get an X-ray to see how the water in my lungs was doing. I told them I was not able to communicate with any of the nurses. They told me I was very lucky that the British military was in Belize, as without the helicopter the ride to this hospital, which was the best in the whole area, a ride to here through the jungle would have taken hours. They said I would have likely been taken to a local hospital closer by, and they didn't know how I might have fared without the more modern technology they had there. They even said that if they weren't there, I would have been treated by local doctors, who likely wouldn't have been able to communicate with me either. I think I was starting to put two and two together enough to realize that something bad had happened.

And so the story continues........I did cooperate very nicely with the doctors and nurses, and after a day of really having a hard time breathing without the oxygen, things started to ease up. I got a telephone call the third morning from Jim Fuller. I only talked to him a few minutes, but he was able to fill in some of the gaps for me. He confirmed that I had passed out at around 80' and he was very suspicious of carbon monoxide poisoning. He said several other divers had come up from their dive with bad headaches. He had isolated my tank and had a sample of its air in a small pony bottle that he would take back to the States to have tested. He said Tom was the one who first noticed I was in trouble and made the first move to take action. Jim had seen Tom making his initial efforts to move me to the surface. He said he recognized that we weren't engaged in "normal diving" and immediately joined in to help Tom. He told me I threw up all the way to the surface, so they were pretty sure I hadn't embolized, but were quite nervous when they reached the surface and found I wasn't breathing. He asked me how I felt and I told him "better." He told me he had gathered some of my clothes and someone would get them to me later. I was concerned about getting to rejoin the group, and he said he had no control of that. I tried to find out where I was in relation to them and he told me I was quite a way from them. He told me he was able to pull his Air Force strings to get the helicopter sent out to pick me up. I asked him when he left and he told me I fell sound asleep after the X-rays, so the helicopter took him back to Ambergris Caye where a boat was waiting to take Tom and him back to Eden Isle. He said it was really late when they got back to the island.

I received my clothes later that day, which was great! The doctors allowed me to wear my normal clothes (which were just shorts, t-shirts and flip flops) and not the ole hospital gown any more. Once I got my clothes, they also allowed me to get out of my room and explore a bit. The whole hospital was quite small. At first I just roamed the main hallway - I couldn't walk very far before I just ran out of breath - and I certainly couldn't walk fast. I found they did have one room where several sick children were located, and I would walk into their room quite often. There must have been 5 or 6 babies and small children, and they were quite pitiful - the place wasn't too clean and it didn't appear the children were tended to very well. There was always crying coming from that room - and of course, all of them were black. Outside, there were a couple of benches along the sidewalk, and no one seemed bothered if I walked out and sat on those benches, so I spent as much time as I could sitting outside or walking up and down the sidewalks. It was really pretty outside. I saw lots of birds I'd never seen before, parrots were everywhere, funny looking lizards scurried all over the place and little squirrels were busy all the time. Butterflies of all colors fluttered between all the different flowering shrubs and off into the jungle. Green tree frogs were easy to find stuck to the exterior hospital walls.

Each day I had to have a chest X-ray. Although I couldn't understand the X-ray technician, we were able to communicate and I somehow convinced him to let me come into the room where he developed the film. I would see my own X-ray before the doctors would. Each day he would line up all the pictures and show me the progress my lungs were making in getting rid of the fluid. Each day it was easier and easier to breath.

In order to get to the X-ray room, I had to leave the main part of the hospital and walk down a covered sidewalk to another small building. One day I had stepped into the grass and was only a few feet away from the sidewalk when one of the British doctors found me. He got all excited and told me it was very dangerous to explore too closely to the fence which separated a mowed lawn surrounding the hospital from very, very dense jungle. He said there were nasty snakes and other critters in the jungle and he didn't want me to get hurt. I immediately thought about the torn screen on my window and about how low it was to the ground. I could think of nothing that would stop a snake or "critter" from entering my room - that green tree frog certainly had no trouble. From that time on, I kept that one window shut all the time.

The British doctors had told me their unit was pulling out of Belize and heading back to England in the next few days. They were just waiting on the final orders. I told them there was no way I could stay in that hospital if they weren't there. I was really scared about what might happen to me. I would have NO ONE who could understand me. I had no idea how to get in touch with Jim - I simply had to get out of that place! The doctors reviewed my X-rays with me and said they thought it could be another week still until the fluid had left my lungs. They were concerned about infection, and lung problems, and flying at altitude. I was taking fairly large doses of cortisone and antibiotics, and while progress was good, I wasn't well enough to be set free. I then started thinking not only of these doctors deserting me, but my whole group would be leaving to go back to the States in a few days, and I absolutely could not be left at this hospital - in the jungle - by myself! It just couldn't happen!

I pleaded my case, with utter desperation, to these two young doctors. They finally decided there was perhaps a way to let me go. On my 5th morning they told me they planned to walk a short distance into the little town of Belmopan later that afternoon. They wanted me to come along with them, and if I could make the trip without any help, they would figure out a way to get me dismissed from the hospital in time to go home with my group, and to not be left stranded without them. Whew! I felt huge relief! I actually didn't feel bad at all. Nothing hurt, except my lungs, and only if I exerted myself too much. I was convinced I was strong enough to make it into the village, and back, later that day.

Later that afternoon the two doctors found me. Together, the three of us walked into the village. We took it slow and just enjoyed our surroundings, almost as if we were tourists. The jungle had been pretty well cleared away from the road into town. Tiny houses were scattered here and there. Clotheslines, some lined with clean clothes, and some flowery bushes around the houses were the common decor. There certainly wasn't much road traffic and we walked pretty much down the middle of the road. Once we got to the edge of town we stopped at a local store and got drinks - I got an orange soda and sipped on it all the way back to the hospital. I can assure you if I had felt the least bit bad during that trip I would have never admitted it to the doctors. On the way back to the hospital I could definitely feel the difference, so my "fake" for regaining my breath was to stop a lot to either point things out or to ask questions! Maybe they saw straight through that ploy - maybe not. They played it cool if they were on to me.

Upon returning to the hospital, the two doctors went about their business. Later that evening they both came to me and told me they would make arrangements for me to leave the next day. They told me they had learned the next day was going to be their last duty day at the hospital and they would personally drive me into Belize City, where they would drop me off and then go report in to their commander for their trip back to England. Someone in Belize City had made arrangements to get me back to my group.

Departure time seemed to never come. I waited around all the next morning for them - I even got to wondering if they'd taken off without me! That morning's routine seemed pretty normal --- shower, breakfast, medicine, X-ray, walk around and try to entertain myself. I had my little bundle of clothes and toothbrush packed up the night before - and I was ready to get out of that place! Finally, before lunch they made an appearance and gave me the plan. They had all my X-rays in a large envelope and told me to take them home to my doctor, as well as all their medical notes. They had my medicine in little bottles. They also gave me several copies of a letter written "To Whom It May Concern" for each airline I was to board on my flight back to Texas. The letter advised the Captain that oxygen was to be kept next to my seat at all times and that all flight attendants were to know about the circumstances I'd been involved in. HOW UTTERLY EMBARRASSING!! I told them I was sure this wasn't necessary, but they said "it was their way" or "stay here" - they didn't want any problems with me being able to breathe while flying! It didn't take too much to convince me to play by their rules.

They handed me my hospital bill for the week and told me when I got home I could mail a check. The address was written on another sheet of paper. The total bill, in US dollars, for that whole week, for the emergency room, for all those X-rays, for all the medicine, for those horrible shots, for a private room, for all the care, was a whopping $68.52!!!!! I had actually been worrying about the bill the past few days. I had big doubts that my state- side insurance would cover this bill since I was out of the country, and I fully expected it to be thousands and thousands of dollars. I simply couldn't believe it!!!

I said my "good-byes" to the nurses, walked back through the babies’ room for one last look, slipped out to the X-ray technician and waved to him, then met the doctors at the back of the hospital where we loaded up into a jeep. The doctors had all their bags in the back and in part of my back seat. The hospital had prepared sandwiches, fruit and drinks for us to eat on the trip. I thought that was very nice! Even thought we couldn't speak, I knew the nurses had taken a liking to me. I'd made it a habit of picking flowers for them and putting them in paper drinking cups. We took off and drove for a couple of hours through dense jungle, on rutted dirt roads. The jeep couldn't travel very fast as we were winding back and forth to avoid pot holes. The road was bumpy and quite curvy in itself. Lush green trees and shrubs bordered each side of the car - close enough at most times that I felt I could stick my arm out and grab them. The jeep had a roof, but no windows, so I was expecting a monkey, or something worse, to come flying into the car at any point. The drive was an adventure I'd love to make again under different circumstances and with more time to explore.

We finally began to come out of the jungle and passed through some small village areas before reaching Belize City. For two guys who'd been stuck in a jungle hospital, they sure seemed to know their way around! The doctors took me to a travel agency which was located in the shopping district. They introduced me to a lady who had made the arrangements for someone to fly me back to Ambergris Caye, with assurances that a boat would be waiting to pick me up there and take me to Eden Isle. I felt like a helpless child, getting ready to lose the security I'd had for almost a week with these two kind British doctors and being handed over to total strangers. I had no identification on me. I didn't have a dime. I had no idea how to get in touch with my group. All I had was my little bag of dirty clothes and my medical records. What would I have ever done if these two wonderful young men had not been based at the hospital? To this day, I'm not quite sure.

I gave each of them a hug, thanked them for everything they had done for me and wished them a good trip back to their homes. After I watched them drive away, the lady at the travel agency gave me a Coke and a place to sit and wait. I preferred looking around and watching the people milling about on the street. In a few minutes she brought me a box which contained a carved wooden sailboat, made out of the same wood as the dolphin I'd ordered! It was beautiful!! She said the owner of the wood carving shop had heard what had happened and sent it over for me. I was totally touched. She told me when my clothes had been sent to me, they had come by plane from Ambergris Caye to her, and she had found a delivery truck going to the hospital and had given my bag to them.

I would guess around 5:00 pm a man and lady came in and told me they were the pilots who would be flying me to Ambergris Caye. We all visited briefly and everyone wanted to know how I was feeling and if I felt up to the short flight. I was tired, but I sure wasn't going to reveal that to them! As long as I didn't try to take a deep breath, or walk fast, I felt pretty normal. I thanked the travel agency lady for her hospitality and for handling my clothes for me, asked her to thank the wood carver for me, then went with the pilots to their car and we drove off to the airport. Again, here I was putting my life into total stranger's hands. How did I know they even knew how to fly an airplane? How did I know they would really take me to Ambergris Caye? This time as we approached the airport I was more prepared for the military persona, and actually quite happy to see it! I wondered if my doctor friends were there.

I boarded a little Cessna 182 and off we went. Belize City is positioned right on the ocean on a point that juts out from the mainland. In no time at all we were flying over the clear, shallow waters of the Caribbean Sea, with varying shades of gorgeous blue spread beneath us. The view was spectacular! Our flight path was quite low, and with the chain of islands speckled throughout these waters, the view out my window was just an awesome sight. As we flew along, I started thinking about all the dives I had missed, the sights I'd missed, the adventures I'd missed, the camaraderie I'd missed out on and realized I might not ever have the chance to dive this area again. On one hand that made me sad.....on the other hand, I could also envision the alternative, and decided to shake it off and be eternally thankful for the outcome! The memories I'd have from this trip, although much different than I had expected, would definitely be etched clearly in my mind forever!

The tiny plane finally started making a straight-in approach to the airstrip on Ambergris Caye. I learned the name of the fishing village where we were landing was called San Pedro. Once we had come to a stop, I saw that Jim Fuller was there to meet me. YES!! A face I recognized! I was no longer alone with strangers, and that was a big relief. Jim was extremely happy to see me and relieved to see I was doing so much better than I was when he was last with me. He gave me a big hug and told me a boat was waiting to take us back to the island. I was ready to go! I was tired......I was hungry.....I wanted to see my friends.......and I wanted to go to bed!

Jim pointed out a few things on our way to the boat. We walked from the airport to the dock, which was probably about the distance of a normal block. Jim told me when I arrived at Ambergris Caye after the accident, the boat captain had already radioed ahead, and a group of local people met the boat at the end of the pier. I was unconscious, so they got a lawn chair and laid me on it, then carried me up to shore. The lawn chair is what I was laying on when I came to and felt the soft hands and saw the circle of black faces. They had then carried me from the shore to the airport to meet the helicopter on that same lawn chair. Even though the distances weren't staggering, they became quite long when I considered people carrying a "stretcher lawn chair," with a wet, shaking, near-drowned diver on board.

Jim had also had the boat captain put him in radio contact with someone who was able to further get in touch with the British military personnel. Jim was retired from the Air Force and was well versed on diving emergencies. He realized this was definitely an emergency and somehow needed to get more help than he felt he would find on Ambergris Caye. He later told me when he made that desperate call for help, he was put in touch with a British officer he had worked with years ago while he, too, was active duty. He said once he started talking with his buddy, things happened quickly.

Jim told me that when he and Tom Rioux had gone back to Eden Isle late on the evening of the accident, Tom had stepped on a broken board on the pier and his whole foot and leg fell through. He had scraped his leg quite badly on the front - all the way from his knee to his shin, and had missed some diving while it scabbed over a bit. To my knowledge, he still has a scar on his leg.

On the short boat ride to the island Jim had lots of questions for me. I had an equally long list of things to ask him. For him, he was mostly interested in how I felt and what I could remember about the actual dive and the events than unfolded after that. He was curious about how things had gone in the hospital. For me, I'd lost a chunk of time and wanted a step-by-step accounting of what had happened that day. To hear him tell me about the accident was as if I was listening to a story about someone else – everything he said to me was foreign. Our bodies work in wonderful ways to sometimes protect us when it’s best that we don't remember unpleasant things.

Perhaps it would help if you knew a bit about Jim Fuller and Tom Rioux. Jim was probably close to 50 years old at the time of this trip and had been working in the civilian world for 8 to 10 years. He was a retired Major with the United States Air Force, and was a fighter pilot. He had absolutely loved his flying career. He was stationed at Bergstrom AFB when he retired after about 20 years of service. While stationed in Japan he formed a large dive club to go along with diving lessons he taught when he wasn't working. After retiring, he became manager of the scuba shop in J. Rich Sports, then located in Northcross Mall in Austin. He taught all levels of classes and was the "best of the best." Everyone loved him - he was like Father Scuba. He enjoyed working with all the divers, setting up fun extra dives, planning and taking divers on trips to places all around the Caribbean. Safety was key to him. He is the one who trained me for my Instructor Trainer Class, and I was incredibly well prepared. Sadly, Jim ended his own life several years ago while he was battling prostate cancer and shortly after he learned his wife had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. He had moved to Florida, but we stayed in touch. I don't know why, but we interchangeably called him Jim or Jim Fuller or just Fuller.

Tom is only about 5 - 8 years older than I am. He is a big guy, but not quite as large as Fuller. He's a different kind of person – always happy, always has a story to tell - a nice guy. I don't really remember when he came into my diving life - he just seemed to be there one day, and he became a safety diver and helped with classes. One of Jim's rules was that his safety divers were well trained and prepared to handle emergencies. I was so lucky Tom recognized my predicament as quickly as he did. I think Tom discovered Cookies & Cream Ice Cream before Blue Bell did. He used to melt Homemade Vanilla until it was stirable, crumble in Oreo cookies, mix it all together, and then refreeze it to make his special mix. Tom still lives in Austin and I see him every year or so when our diving group comes together for reunions. We share Christmas cards each year. We will always have a connection. He still makes diving trips to blue water once or twice a year and has definitely stayed more involved with diving than I have.

Back to the story..... Everyone was so happy to see me when we arrived at Eden Isle. They all wanted to talk at the same time. It was almost dark and almost supper time, so we met in the dining hut again. I tried to learn about all the fun dives I had missed, but they all wanted to talk about "the day." There was a lot of confusion when the group had come up from that dive I had to cut short. They knew from the boat captain something had gone wrong, and knew Tom, Jim and I were gone. It wouldn't be until much later that day, when Jim and Tom returned, that they'd learn more about that near tragic dive.

Jim told me the next morning he and others had gone to examine the compressor. They found it burnt up!!! They concluded that while filling the tanks for our dive that fateful afternoon, the compressor had overheated to the point it literally burned up! The people who had come up from their dive with headaches most likely had low levels of carbon monoxide in their tanks, as headache is one symptom of carbon monoxide poisoning. Jim said when they got me on board the boat my lips and fingernail beds were noticeably blue. Initially, he didn't think much of it since I wasn't breathing, and based on everything else he was dealing with at the moment carbon monoxide poisoning never crossed his mind. However, upon examining the compressor, and reflecting on my "blueness" he was sure of the problem. That's when he took a sample of the air from my tank so he could have it tested and confirm his suspicions.

For the rest of the week, scuba tanks were loaded into boats twice a day and taken to a dive shop at Ambergris Caye for filling. My group only snorkeled the morning after my accident, but I believe they were able to dive that afternoon. Jim said he didn't dive for a couple of days, as he was running around trying to find out how I was doing, and going back and forth to Ambergris Caye. I also learned on one of the days Jim had taken a day off diving he had gone back to Belize City in search of his British military buddy. They were able to link up, eat lunch together and catch up on old times. During the week, unbeknownst to me, Jim had talked to the British doctors several times and they had updated him on my progress.

Jim said he was scared to death after they had gotten me to the surface and realized I wasn't breathing. All of the divers and dive masters were under water, and the two boat captains were the only ones on the boats. We surfaced fairly close to the smaller boat. Realizing I wasn't breathing, Jim started mouth-to-mouth in the water while yanking off his own buoyancy compensator, which had his tank attached to it, and letting it float in the water. The other dive boat picked it up later. The boat captain helped Jim get aboard the boat while Tom continued mouth-to-mouth on me. Amazingly enough, I never released my hold on the camera grip and they were able to put my camera on the boat. Both Jim and Tom had kept their camera gear all the way to the surface too; although, Jim did lose one of his strobes. Jim and the boat captain pulled me on board the small boat - tank and all. Jim had ditched both of our weight belts --- I'm glad they didn't land on any of the other divers! In order to keep air going into my lungs he said they didn't remove any of my equipment (except the mask, which was long gone!) until they had mouth-to-mouth back under way and the anchor was coming up. Thank heavens there were two boats for that dive - that's not at all the norm! He told me he was surprised I hadn't been badly bruised and hurting all over because of the way I had been dragged onto the boat, and for a brief bit laid on my tank. I never had one bruise or one sore muscle!! Pretty amazing!

At some point during the boat ride to Ambergris Caye, I started breathing on my own, but it wasn't until sometime after I had been taken to shore before I started to regain consciousness. That's when I felt the soft hands. Jim said the 45 or so minutes from when Tom first reacted and started helping me get to the surface, until my eyes finally fluttered open, seemed like an absolute eternity! He figured I was gone for sure!! Forty-five minutes of my life is MISSING --- probably gone forever, never to be remembered again. What was a horrifying experience for Tom and Jim was nothing but peaceful bliss for me, absent of any pain, absent of any fear, absent of any memory, nothing different than like being sound asleep at night.

From Tom's vantage point, what he remembers was how ready I had been to get the dive under way, and how Jim had piddled around on the surface adjusting and rechecking himself before we began our descent. He remembered the descent as being perfectly normal ... taking in the beauty before him and only slightly aware of Jim and my presence. He said he noticed that I seemed interested in the sponge, and that after my close examination I had raised my head back up and actually started swimming toward him. He said he basically ignored me, as what I was doing appeared quite normal, until he looked back and saw my regulator dangling and me actually "breathing" the water. His initial thought was that I was trying to say something to him as we'd done on the morning dive, but he thought I was "talking" too long so he swam over to me, took my regulator and put it back into my mouth. I immediately let it drop back out. He said he remembered thinking I was pushing things a bit by showing him I could breath water, but then he noticed a look in my eyes that said "Help Me......" and he immediately grabbed me and started for the surface, while trying to get me to accept his octopus regulator.

Jim, who was also just settling in for his dive had noticed me lean all the way over and place my face into the sponge. He also thought I was just getting a closer look. He saw me sit back up and said he really paid no attention to me joining up with Tom until he saw Tom about 6 - 8 feet off the bottom, with me in tow, heading for the surface. Jim swam swiftly to Tom's aid, saw I didn't have my regulator, grabbed my hair and pulled my head back to keep my airway open. He was petrified of me embolizing. On a normal breath of air taken at 80 feet, you can gently exhale all the way to the surface and never run out of air. At that depth you are under about 2 1/2 atmospheres of pressure, and the expansion of air from that depth, to sea level, is phenomenal. Air must be expelled from your lungs in order to keep the capillaries in your lung tissue from rupturing which will allow air bubbles to leak into your blood stream. Those tiny bubbles will continue to enlarge as you move toward the surface, and the next thing you know you're dealing with a very serious diving emergency that even a decompression chamber sometimes can't reverse. Jim said I started vomiting almost as soon as he came to help and I kept it up all the way to the surface. He also said my mask filled up with yellow slime! (Gross!)

The very last thing I remember is looking at the coral shrimp in the sponge. That picture is as crystal clear in my mind today as it was the moment I saw it. I don't remember ever sitting back up, or anything that followed. I'm guessing when I had the wisp of a thought that I needed to go to the surface was when I had started to swim to Tom. I do remember knowing I was breathing water, but it rang not one panic bell nor did it tell my brain anything special. I will always remember how it feels though, and it wasn't a bad feeling. The very next thing I did remember, which seemed only a second in time, was feeling the soft hands.

Jim kept my bottom timer for me. It showed a total dive time of three and one-half minutes!! Water pressure starts and stops this underwater stop watch at about 3 feet of depth. It doesn't take carbon monoxide long to do its damage!

The next morning we all began our journey back home. The injury to Tom's leg didn't look too good to me, so I was glad he was getting out of the water for a while. We rode in the boats back to Belize City and were picked up by the taxi vehicles again. We made our way to the little wood carving shop and I was able to meet the man who had carved the sail boat for me and to thank him personally. The dolphin I had ordered was ready. It was very, very smooth and just perfect!

Our next stop was the airlines and my letter from the doctors was handed to the ticket agent at the time we checked in. Jim had taken the "Father" position again and was totally in charge. The whole airline thing was a bit embarrassing, as I really did feel OK. None-the-less, on this initial flight, and the two subsequent legs that day, I was boarded first (as if I was some frail little old lady) and put in the first seat in coach where an oxygen cylinder and mask were perched right beside my seat. Then, of course, every other passenger who paraded past me on their way to their own seats had to gawk, each probably wondering what was wrong with this person who looked just fine! I decided if I had to put up a bit of discomfort to go home with my group, so be it!! The pilot on two of the flights actually came out and visited with me. That was neat!

The trip home was without event and it was good to get back into my own bed that night. The afternoon we arrived in Austin, Jim immediately made arrangements to visit Brooks AFB in San Antonio the next morning and have the cylinder of air tested. He asked me to come along so the doctors there could talk to me. He had chosen this location because this facility had experts in hyperbaric medicine.

The trip proved to be quite interesting, and informative. Shortly after our arrival the air sample from my scuba tank was put into a carbon monoxide testing machine, which had a meter on the front which would show us the percentage of carbon monoxide. The needle immediately pegged at the highest reading!! The lab people were all amazed! It sort of made me "gulp." They concluded that my tank was filled at the exact time the compressor was in the actual burning up stages and that I had gotten an incredibly high dose of CO in my tank. That would also account for the shortness of my dive. Remember, the bottom timer had just over 3 minutes on it, but part of that time had taken place after I had already "checked out!" Thank goodness only one tank had been filled with this high level - can you imagine the scene if several people had bad air - all at the same time, or if Tom or Jim's tanks had been filled right alongside mine??

The people at Brooks AFB were all very nice. I was given a tour of several chambers and told how they were used in the field of medicine, especially in oxygen therapy to speed healing. Obviously, this was the location where diving emergencies related to air embolism would be handled and they explained their procedure for how these situations would be carried out. They also told us about using the chambers for their pilots to experience the simulation of rapid decompression. I was quite impressed with everything I learned. One of the pulmonary doctors did some breathing tests on me, reviewed my medical reports from Belize and looked over the X-rays. He actually saved me a trip to my normal doctor and gave me the referral to a local pulmonary specialist in Austin.

I returned to work the next day and made arrangements to see the Austin doctor. In a nutshell, I saw him for about 4 weeks. The water in my lungs was almost gone by the time I had my first appointment and I could breathe with no effort. I had been on high doses of cortisone, so I had to taper off those. I stayed on the antibiotics until there was no evidence of water. I was released only after I could pass a test of blowing enough air through a tube that measured lung volume input & output. At that time I was also given clearance to dive again.

That first dip back into the water took place in Lake Travis and was quite interesting. I was as good as new by that point, had no trouble breathing and was full of all my normal feistiness and spunk. But to have been around Jim and Tom, one would have thought I didn't even know how to swim, let alone dive! I was excited and ready to get back underwater. Since I had not experienced any of the horrors from the dive in Belize, I was absolutely fearless, but they had memories forever etched into their brains and were more nervous than first time parents. Both of them insisted on making that dive with me. It was actually quite funny. I don't remember ever, on any dive before, even as a brand new student diver, having so many "OK? hand signals" given to me underwater. It was nice to have everyone so concerned, yet it was a bit frustrating at the same time, as I felt fine. We all knew my air supply was good - it was ME, or maybe more my lungs, they were actually worried about. They also had trouble not fully understanding why I wasn't at least a little scared to go back under the water. With what they had experienced, they couldn't grasp why I had no fear what-so-ever.

The dive was a total success. Within a few weeks both guys had relaxed and quit worrying about me and set me free to continue diving with the students. I did learn that to get a lung full of salt water was a much better situation than to try and drown in fresh water. With salt water, the electrolyte balance in your body isn't tampered with to the extent as it would be with fresh water. I believe that was a saving grace in my case. When electrolytes get out of whack, your heart is immediately affected, as I'm sure are other organs.

Several changes came about as a result of that dive trip. Although trips were still made to remote areas, questions were asked "before hand" regarding the compressor on hand, and the proximity and/or accessibility of medical help in the area. Upon arrival at any dive location, we established a policy that we would physically exam each compressor, check the records for filter changes and routine maintenance. As I mentioned earlier, gasoline powered compressors were actually vintage machines. I never dived again at a resort which owned one.

I can honestly say that if I had never regained consciousness that one day I had looked so forward to, I believe my passing into another plane would have been no different than going to sleep at night and never waking up again, and my last memory would have been a very pleasant one. I realize I was lucky - very, very lucky!

You've been wondering how this story would end. Well, it's over - that's all there is.

The End

(Isn't that how all good stories

end?)