Hanging Up the SCUBA Gear

Finally decided.

Hanging it up. I have done my last SCUBA dive. That is such a tough sentence to write.

While I will go to some lengths to avoid giving in to fear, and I have so much trouble acknowledging that there are permanent effects of the SCA, that there are things I cannot do - I need to let this go.

The cardiologist initially said no, not ever, not one single dive. And he is a diver, so he understood the enormity of that statement; he understood what "he" was taking away from me. Under some pressure, he relented, checked with Medtronic (Skippy's manufacturer) and said perhaps I could dive to 30 feet. Being who I am, I leapt at that door-open-a-crack and started hatching a plan.

I knew I would have to lie to a dive operator; even in Cozumel where safety is not a top priority, I think they would balk at taking down a diver with a defibrillator. And I didn't want to go back to Mexico; I wanted this precious dive trip to be to Little Cayman. (Population: 100). Just one more time on Bloody Bay Wall.

But then I also had to come up with a dive buddy who would be uber-attentive, just in case. My first choice bowed out after a bends episode. Second up is a Richmond friend who is a diver and an MD and an inordinate risk-taker. Even he got cold feet. What was I thinking? What kind of favor is this to ask of a friend? (See the last post on this blog - I can be an ass.)

Then I thought maybe I'll just be a volunteer diver at our local aquarium - last week, I went down to talk to them about it. But I've decided. No - I don't want my last SCUBA dives to be in 25 feet of water cleaning fish crud off the walls at an aquarium. That is just too depressing - I came to accept that this idea was more depressing than simply not diving again.

So today, I made my first step - I called to arrange servicing of my equipment so I can sell it. I have a Caribbean trip planned later this year, but it will be the trip where I learn to love snorkeling.

I need to let it go. It's unseemly at best to whine about this. 98% of SCA people just die. Of the 2% who live, so many have severe physical limitations and/or varying levels of brain damage.

And me, the SCUBA whiner, I have enough brain cells left to pass the damn South Carolina bar exam (took two tries, but passed it).

I'm letting it go. I am now officially a former SCUBA diver.