The Importance of Surface Intervals
Originally written May 9, 2014
Surface Interval: length of time on the surface, usually out of the water, between two consecutive dives.
A couple years back, I had an incident while diving.
I was down in Roatan, Honduras for my 4th summer with the Marine Biology Research Camp, my first summer helping as staff instead of as a camper. By this point, Roatan had become my second home. I considered everyone there family (and still do). Life at MBRC is both relaxed and chaotic all at once.
To give you an idea, a typical day at MBRC started around 6:30 AM and went something like this:
Get the campers up
Breakfast
Lecture
Dive
Dolphin Activity
Lunch
Dive
Lecture
Additional lectures (for students trying to achieve a higher level certification)
Dinner
Highs & Lows (end of the day wrap up where we log dives, talk about our day, and go over the schedule for the next day)
Staff meeting (Okay, these "meetings" were more fun than business, but they kept us up late)
I know what you're thinking - "What a great gig you had! You were on vacation everyday!" And you're 100% right. It was the BEST gig. And a lot of the time, it was like a vacation. And we all helped each other. But I promise you, it is way more exhausting than it looks on paper.
Anyway, that particular summer, even though our daily schedule was already packed, I was determined to complete both my rescue and my dive master certifications. So somehow, someway, I fit in extra lectures and logged more hours in the water completing skills.
I don't think I've ever worked that hard at anything in my life before or maybe even since. I was excited and pumped up - but underneath all that I was also exhausted both emotionally and physically, which, obviously, I wouldn't admit.
After working on one particular skill - the skin-ditch and recovery to be more specific - (if you watch that and think it looks super easy, go give it a try and let me know what you think after. Also, not to brag or anything, but all of our skills were done in open water, not a pool) - anyway, I hadn't cleared properly and got a shooting pain in my forehead. I mean - like someone stabbed me right between my eyes. It only lasted a few seconds though and I wasn't really worried. I'd had sinus pain before - NBD, right?! So I kept on until I completed that stupid skill. It hurt every single time I dove down, but I ignored it. I was being completely stubborn. I had a constant headache for the rest of the night. I felt weird. I figured I was just tried and dehydrated so I loaded up on Gatorade and popped some Advil.
I must have voiced some sort of concern before the next dive, because I remember people asking me if I wanted to sit out. My answer was of course, "No. I'm fine." As an instructor now, looking back, I want to hit myself - because I knew better. If you think you shouldn't dive - don't dive. I was just so comfortable with diving and the dive locations and the people at the time that I really didn't think anything would go wrong. And if it did, I could handle it. So what if I had a little headache?
I jumped in. The first fifteen feet are the hardest on the sinuses. I cleared all the way down, with that sharp pain from the day before only showing itself as a tiny pulse between my eyes. I hit 15 feet and took that as my victory. I just knew I would be fine. The pulse grew a little, and my mask felt tight against my face, but overall, I still wasn't worried. What. An. Idiot. I was in the middle of my training for my rescue and my dive master but refused to evaluate myself.
Halfway through the dive, it happened. One second I was looking at a parrot fish crunching on some coral, the next I felt like someone had just hit me in the back of my head with a 2 x 4. The details from here get a little fuzzy. I scanned the water for my boss - my instructor - and within a second he was there. He and his wife had been watching me throughout the dive (They are the greatest examples of underwater responsibility and he is the instructor I will always strive to be). As soon as he put his arms on me, I knew I was safe. The problem with me knowing that I was safe? All the other emotions push past my survival instincts. So I was safe, but now I was terrified. Here I was, 40 feet underwater, and my head hurt so bad that I could even see straight. I remember shaking my head "no" over and over again as tears flooded my mask.
He brought me to the surface - him being calm and reassuring, me crying through my regulator. He swam me to the boat, and they helped me get out of my gear. I know I laid there on the back of the boat, but I don't remember much. I remember the pain and I remember them reassuring me that I was okay. Mostly I remember not wanting the students to come up from their dive and see me like this. I didn't want them to see me and get scared. I was embarrassed that I had let this happen. But there was no way around that - everyone saw me in tears, struggling to control my breathing. Everyone saw me get carried off the the clinic, where I got a really cute face mask to pump me oxygen to go with my soaking wet bathing suit.
Obviously, it all turned out okay. I had to sit out for two days, ordered rightfully so by the powers that be. And, I now know what a migraine at 40 feet feels like. Woof.
... Cool story, Alex. Are you trying to make some sort of point? Well, yes.
When I jumped into the water that day, I loved scuba diving. I was 100% comfortable with it. My love for it outweighed all of my concerns for myself. I wouldn't give up one day of diving to take care of myself. I was being trained to be a dive master - I knew better! But I didn't follow what I knew was right, because I just thought I could manage as is. Sure, I was a little rundown and hurt, but who isn't?
Looking back, I see how dangerous that is: Becoming so comfortable with something or someone that you don't think of yourself anymore. It's a slippery slope.
And guess what - sometimes, we do that in life. And by sometimes, I mean - if you can't think of something you've put before your own emotional or physical health because you loved it or craved it or have become comfortable with it - you aren't human. Sorry. Better get that checked out.
I still love scuba diving. 100%. It will always be a part of my life. After that dive, I went on to become a rescue diver, and a dive master, and finally instructor. I didn't give it up - but I learned an incredibly important lesson. Putting yourself first isn't selfish - it's necessary. Scuba diving is a wonderful life-long activity - it's not bad for me - but becoming so dependent and focused on it was.
I know I've been a little bit all over the place with this. If you've stuck it out, props to you! I guess the moral of the story is this: You have to give yourself a break, even from the things and people that you love. There will be times in life where you must evaluate you, and whether you like what you see or not, you'll need to take some time and just sit with yourself.
Trust me, you're going to miss every single second in the water. The break will be worth it, though, because you'll be refreshed and stronger and happier.
So, don't quit diving. But remember: life is about learning to enjoy the surface intervals, too.