Facade

CH7 Staying Alive

Don't get me wrong, I am a fantastic swimmer but I really do not like the ocean. Nevertheless, in I went; at least I kicked off my sneakers and dropped my phone. With powerful strokes I moved to where the surfer was last seen and even though my heart was beating frantically I started diving down looking for him. I never saw him in the churning water but I saw his empty board being pulled by something beneath the surface. When I reached the board I realized the surfer was still tethered to it. Following the tether I was able to reach a hand. The hand was ice cold but I grabbed and pulled the attached body toward the surface.

When I broke the surface there was another hand waiting for me. This one was warm and full of strength as it helped me drag the unconscious man from the water. I supported his body weight while the young woman with me in the water brought his board closer. She grabbed his arms and threw them over the board. She held his chest and head steady above water while I pushed more of his body onto the board. With one last heave we finally had him sprawled over the board with his head lolling to one side still unresponsive.

"Yo, make sure you get my board in!" My help hollered to her friend who now had two boards. I was treading water on the unconscious man's left side while she was on his right. Her steady gaze met mine and she nodded her head in reassurance. We had him steady but now we had to get him to shore and to help.

"Anita, get to shore, call an ambulance. We need to get him in between swells. We're going to ride the back of a wave in and then paddle like hell before the next swell starts."

"Got it, you lead." Normally I'm all about taking charge of a situation but not in the ocean. Wave after wave broke on the shore, one carried in another young woman who I assumed was Anita.

Seemingly out of no where the girl helping me slapped her hand against the board and pointed to shore. We paddled and paddled to maintain our current position but pretty soon it didn't matter. We were being lifted by a huge swell. I kept an absolute death grip on the man and board but allowed my body to float freely. The woman steered us through the amassing water. The wave crested and we were behind it. Not to close and not too far.

Now the shore was rushing closer and the panic set in. I was nearly positive that I was going to die trying to save this man's life. Stop it Roxanne. Now is not the time to slip away. Hold on. Trust yourself. You're a fucking cockroach, remember? Nothing can kill you. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

We rode the wave in until the breakers. At this point the young woman flipped him off the board and ripped off the tether connecting him to his board. She slung him over her back and started making a mad dash to the shore. I should have looked down. Out of no where something had wrapped itself around my ankle and was pulling me out with the rip tide.

I tried getting away only to have a wall of water blind side me. I never saw the new set of waves. Now I'm turning and turning, gulping water and trying to find up. I can't see light, I can't find the sand, and I can feel myself dying. An arm wrapped around my waste and suddenly I was rushing through the water at in impossible speed.

Air. I can breathe. I'm being pushed. No, no, why did this person save me only to try drowning me by pushing me back down into the water? Wait, no, they weren't trying to push me down they were pushing me toward dry land! They're helping me. I stumbled and was caught again by the same arm and ushered forward. With all of my strength I left the horrid water and collapsed on dry land.

I didn't even care if the sand stuck to me like a raw cookie rolled in sugar, I am live. I am live, is the other person? I looked around me trying to make sense of the scene. A young woman, not the one who had helped me, was on her phone watching the scene with worried eyes. The woman who helped me is straddling the still unconscious man performing CPR on him.

I stumbled forward toward the unconscious surfer only to be steadied again. I followed the arm to its owner who was a young man. I realized his mouth was moving as he was trying to talk with me. My ears were still rushing and I felt water logged. I was so sick to my stomach from all the water but I had to focus.

"Hey, hey, come on. You're good now. Snap out of it." His voice was starting to come into focus and the world wasn't swirling so bad now.

"Thank you for pulling me out of there," my voice was hoarse and raw so much so that I hardly recognized myself.

"No problem, what you did for Jerry was awesome." I nodded absently, my mind focusing through the blur.

"Have you gotten a pulse yet?" I questioned the young woman.

"No," she replied frantically. I motioned for her to move over.

"I have EMT training." The Boss is always prepared. I knelt down over him and began the stiff armed compressions. Any more you don't pause compressions to 'breathe,' the deflation and re-inflation of the lungs is enough to pull fresh air into the lungs. I could hear sirens wailing in the very near area but I kept going. My CPR instructor had blasted "Staying Alive" by the Beegees because the beat of that song is the rate of compressions so now that song was playing in my mind. After one minute my arms were turning to jello and I was breathing like I had been for a run.

"The ambulance is almost here," someone informed me." Nothing matters until the ambulance crew gets here and takes over. I caught a blur of movement to my right and a hand on my shoulder.

"On three," I told the EMT. He nodded and stood ready.

"One, two, three," I pushed my cramping body up and away from the downed surfer while two EMTs swarmed over him. I stood there shaking, my heart racing and my arms numb.

"Give us the run down." Training took over as I reported methodically on the situation at hand.

"Male early twenties was rendered unconscious by a head injury from a loose surf board. He had to be pulled from the water and we've continued compressions. No return to consciousness and no sign of vitals." The third EMT wrote everything I said but looked mildly questioning.

"I have EMT training," I clarified to which he nodded understanding.

"Do you mind sticking around for the police report?" I nodded. Not thrilled my day had gone this way but maybe this would fix some of my karma.

"We'll stay too, we saw all the water action. Oh, his name's Jerry Moore by the way." The EMT thanked us as he ran to catch up with his crew. The police would be arriving soon although it was surprising they hadn't arrived yet. Probably for the best, my adrenaline was so high right now that I would have stuttered through the whole interview.

I took stock of my surroundings only to realize I was in the middle of a very public event and was being highly scrutinized. Great, this is me totally keeping a low profile. All the surfers had come in at this point although the guy wearing the red and black wet suite was no where to be seen. Besides the surfers there were also a good number of passersby who had decided to drop in for a free reality show. I felt like a performing animal. I had done my swimming act and now I stood before them all dripping with water, covered in sand, and shivering from over stimulation.

"Hey, take this." I felt a heavy towel fall over my shoulders. Instinctively I pulled it tight around myself.

"Thank you," I said to the young woman. I recognized her as the one who had helped me in the water. The first thing that sunk in about her was how tall she was and what lovely brown eyes she had. Something about her reminded me of someone, or maybe I knew her from somewhere.

"For you, anytime. I think what you did today was crazy brave. And I mean it that way, you were crazy but you were seriously brave too. No one else reacted that fast and just jumped right into the water. What's your name crazy?" I've been called a lot of things, crazy brave is new but I like it.

"Roxanne, Roxanne Steel how about you?" Through my shell shock I at least remembered to use my new last name.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Alex Dartmoor." 

Image Credit http://marccortez.com/2011/11/18/a-theology-of-california-surf-culture/