I'm not exaggerating even a little. If anything had gone even slightly different, if it had been anyone but him there, I would probably either be dead or severely impaired right now.
I made a huge mistake on Saturday with regards to my first dive. I was using all new gear and I should have done a weight check as soon as I got into the water. Instead, I went in with the weight I had used for my last ocean dive, and when I wasn't quite sinking the way I should I helped things along a little by using the drop line in the water and thought to myself, "I'll be more negatively buoyant when I get down to 70 feet, it will be fine." While this is true, I forgot something that had just recently been reiterated to me - when diving with an aluminum tank, as it empties, the more positively buoyant it gets. This will come into play later.
Steve and I were also diving with a few other people in a group because there were some people on the boat who had never done a deep or wreck dive before, and Steve, because it's just how he is, wanted them with him so he could keep an eye on them and make sure they did ok.
So we descend down the rope and I'm noticing right away that I'm having a little trouble staying down. The conditions are rough. There is a strong current and low visibility. I was working way too hard because of the combination of the current and constantly kicking to keep from rising up and I was consuming air WAY faster than normal. As I consumed air, I was having more and more trouble staying down (because my tank was getting lighter), working even harder, and thus breathing even harder, making me worry even more about my air and get more positively buoyant. It was like a cycle of trouble and I realized I needed to end the dive and go up. At this point I still had plenty of air in my tank, I just knew it was only getting worse and I wasn't having fun.
So I'm swimming about four/five feet above and about five-seven feet behind Steve and the three other people with us, and I'm trying to get his or one of their attention, but fighting the buoyancy and current are leaving me unable to get within reaching distance where I could grab a fin or something. I see him below always checking behind to make sure people are ok, and I can tell he's a little bit worried because he doesn't see me. As I continued to try and swim closer, and gaining NO ground, and getting kicked around by the current even worse as I lose strength, I start to feel anxiety building.
This is the first time I've ever felt fear under water. It was a combination of knowing how fast I was sucking down air, knowing I might not be able to get to the anchor line without help, knowing that if I tried to make a free ascent (go up without a line to hold on to) I'd likely rise too quickly and get badly bent (when nitrogen bubbles form in your bloodstream - it can kill or paralyze you if it's bad enough - which from 70 feet is a real possibility), and being completely helpless to let anyone know I was having problems.
Finally as I'm following the group we get close enough to the wreck and I grab hold and try to use it to pull myself forward faster than I could swim. My breathing is heavy and hard at this point and I know I am very very close to having a panic attack and I am desperately trying to talk myself down from it, reminding myself to take slow breaths and stay calm.
Then my mask starts to flood.
A lot of divers have major issues with mask flooding...I've NEVER been one of them. Clearing the mask is cake for me. But for me to clear the mask I had to get into an upright position and tilt my head up, something that I was afraid that if I did, I'd start to rise up and be unable to control my ascent. It wasn't flooded up to my eyes yet when finally I pulled myself level with the group so when Steve turned around he saw me and signaled, "ok?" I shook my head and signaled back "Something's wrong."
As soon as I shook my head the mask came off (it had been slipping off my head before then, which is why it was flooding), and I went into full blown panic attack. I've never been so terrified in my life and for those few seconds it took him to get to me, I was certain I was dead. I could feel myself losing control of my body even as my mind remained aware and I had been essentially blinded on top of my other issues. But he was there in a flash. He had to recant what happened after that to me because in the next minute or so all I was aware of was his arms around me, his hand on my regulator (making sure I didn't spit it out), and for at least a minute being consumed by this upwelling of panic. To my credit i did not fight him at all and went all but limp once he had his arms around me. I felt terror like I'd never experienced, but I still had my rational mind. As I talked myself down, it was because it was him, because I knew he'd never let anything happen to me, because of something in the intimate way he had his arms around me that I was able to regain control of myself. All the while, he was kicking like crazy to get me to the anchor line as quickly as possible (something I didn't know till later). Once there, he handed me my mask, my breathing had slowed, I cleared it and looked at him.
The look he had in his eyes was one I can only describe as full of relief and even something bordering on love. I started crying and thanked him in sign language and he kept his arms around me as we went up the line slowly. Once at the surface, all he said was, "thank you for letting me help you." And then he sat with me on the stern of the boat and rubbed my back while I cried and shook for about half an hour till my body settled down from being overwhelmed by what had just happened.
Two hours later I was back in the water, same boat/location, more weight, and I handled everything perfectly. We talked about it later that night and I learned a few really valuable things from the experience where I'll use what I went through to make myself a better diver, and a better dive buddy to anyone who might feel what I felt in those minutes. And he admitted that he sort of got a kick out of having an opportunity to play hero for me lol. Which I'm fine with, haha, though I'm not really sure how to deal with the emotions that have developed as a result of that whole incident. I basically let him "in" enough down on that wreck to trust him with my life, to take care of me, to bring me to safety. That's a pretty extreme level of emotional intimacy for a two month relationship.
The rest of the weekend was awesome. Steve LOVED the hang gliding thing, we dove two more times on Sunday and I got to see more sharks, and I managed not to get burnt. I'll post some pictures later once I get them loaded up.
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