Bren Tierney
Contributor
Hi Guys,
I thought I'd share this one with you. It happened to one of our team on the 19th Jan this year. Peter's one of our Scottish contingent and regularly dives the wrecks of the Clyde, Oban and the Sound of Mull.
Any way, here, in his own words (posted on our site), is what happened to him. Some of his language might be 'colourful' (part of the innate qualities of the Scots) and you may or may not agree with his findings, nonetheless, here's his story.
-------------------------------------------------
" Hi People,
Don't really know where to start, so I'll start at the start of the day.
Sunday the 19th January, 2003.
Went for a couple of dives in Loch Fyne. The 1st dive was Stallion Rock, from the shore, which, for those of you who don't know it, involves a long hard walk down and back up a fairly steep hill.
The dive went fine (36.8mtrs, 42mins, 8mins deco), then back up the hill. I felt fine. About an hour later we were helping a guy push over a barrell and on the way back I had a slight visual disturbance in the corner of my eyes, almost rainbow like in its colours. This passed after a couple of minutes and I put it down to having looked at the sun or something. In all I had a 2hr 1 min surface interval.
Dive 2 was Kenmore Point; which again involves a longer walk than Stallion, but not as steep. The dive was 30.4mtrs, 40mins, safetystop of 3 mins.
The nearest my 'pooter (Dive Computer) got to deco was 5mins away. Then walked back up to the cars and un-kitted.
When we were driving back to the pub I felt what can only be described as a twinge in my L-hand shoulder, but I put this down to carrying the gear up and down hills which; was entirely possible.
We spent a couple of hours in the pub and the pain got slightly worse, but it still did not seem anything to be really worried about. I left the pub and started to drive down the road and this is when it all went f*cking pear-shaped.
I realise for what I'm about to tell you I will get seriously flamed; but let this be a valuable lesson. If anyone can benefit by my honest account, then some good will have come of it.
Once I got into Inverary the pain was that bad I was feeling really sick and had to stop the van and get out. I was on my own in the van, so there was no-one to point out the screamingly bloody obvious.
I then travelled up the 'Rest and be Thankful' (a mountain pass of approx Alt. 1600ft), needing to stop sometimes every 1/2 mile; sometimes I could manage 2-3 miles with the pain and my eyes beginning to cloud over.
By this time I was getting out the van and physically screaming to try and alleviate the pain. I will say that I do not have a mobile (cell) phone, so I was literally on my own in the middle of nowhere at this point.
I struggled on down the other side of the 'Rest' and stopped at a lay-by again, at which time I saw a friend hurtle past me and toot his horn hello. I know he carries an O2 kit, but he didn't see me waving.
By now, I'm in tears.
Now I got really f*cking stupid. Got home about 8pm; the whole distance being about 70 miles and I started about 4.30pm (do the maths), ate 2 Paracetomol and thought if I went to bed I would be fine in the morning. I was in and out the bathroom all night trying to deal with the pain and it took me 'till 3am for me to finally admit to myself that I was bent.
Now I stupidly thought that there is nothing can be done for me at this time of night, so I screamed and cried my way through till 8am on the Monday morning. As an after-thought, I can remember at one point during the night thinking cutting my arms off at the shoulder would actually deal with the pain; stupid I know, but it's strange the way your brain reacts when you're bent.
Anyway, 8am on Monday, I took my carcass down to Casualty (the ER) at the Southern General Hospital. This was another mistake.
I walked straight in and said/cried "My names Peter Kelly, I'm a diver suffering from decompression sickness. Put me on 02 and 'phone this number". The number was Aberdeen Hyperbaric Unit.
After half-an-hour, I was still not on 02 (I had told several people by this point), though the thoughtful buggers gave me a couple of Co-Codamol for the pain.
Jeez, that was really going to help!!!! Finally a Doc came in, said she had just READ ABOUT IT IN A BOOK and I was suffering from decompression sickness and, in case I didn't know, was more commonly called the bends.
Again I repeated and asked for her to 'phone f*cking Aberdeen and put me on O2. Obviously I was getting a bit distraught by now. The Doc then put me on a saline-drip and unbelievably injected into the drip some kind of sea-sickness drug.
I asked if I could drink water. She 'did not know'. She then went and 'phoned Aberdeen. About half-an-hour later she came back and told me that Aberdeen had told her to put me on 02(!) and they would get a pot (chamber) ready for me. I also had loads of nurses and docs coming in to see what a bent diver looked like, as if I was some kind of bloody guinae pig. I'll tell you what a bent diver looks like. A curled up, snot-covered, crying mess. The Millport pot was ready for 9.30am, the hospital didn't get me there (approx 35miles) 'till 2.30pm.
When I got there the first thing the Doc wanted to know was who put the drip in? This was swiftly removed when I promised to start drinking water.
They asked where the pain was, which was from my shoulders all the way down to my wrists, and my hands were just numb. Then I did strength tests - which proved I did not have any.
Needless to say, I was taken into the chamber suffering from what the kind doctor in the Southern General diagnosed as 'the bends', and thought a seasickness injection might help.
After about half-an-hour, they checked my pain and strenghth with no change. This went on for another couple of hours every half-hour, untill I suddenly felt a bit of strenghth coming back and a lessening of the pain.
All-in-all, I was at 18 metres (in the pot) for 4-5 hrs and decompressing at 9 metres for 3-4hrs. I now hold the dubious distinction of the longest ever treatment Millport has done in 1 sitting.
For those that know it was a Royal Navy (RN) Table 5 or 6 with 2 extensions. I reckon the Table is 5hrs and an extension adds another 2 hours. This is the maximum Millport can do and if I relapsed during the night, then it would have been off to Aberdeen with me. That's how borderline on severity I was.
Went to hospital overnight and woke up the next day (Tuesday) feeling still pretty sore; though nothing compared to Monday. My elbows, wrists and hands were tender, but my shoulder still had a dull ache. So it was back into the pot for whats called a COMEX2. This was a quick 3hr 02-soak, which alleviated the pain that was left even more. Back to hospital for observation overnight and to see if I had to go in again the next day. Thankfully I was reasonably OK, but felt thoroughly kicked about.
The reasons for the bend are simple: bloody dive computers.
When mine was downloaded and examined (I had followed mine to the letter), I had missed a sh*t-load of stops according to the Buhllman's; and on the 2nd dive, I was actually off the table.
The dive-doc who treated me said that with the invention of dive computers, the bent diver rate almost trebled over-night. This on top of the walk up and down to the site, the water temp of 7degreesC, the climb over the 'Rest', the fact I've had a bend before and that I smoke, did not help my cause in any way.
The advice is really for me to never dive again; but if I want to do so, then take at least a year out and see the specialist at Aberdeen before I go back again.
I'm still considering what to do, but I'll make my mind up soon with this still fresh in my memory. I suspect I will dive again but will seriously change the way I dive and what kind of dive I do. I had begun to get blasé and stopped treating 35/40metre dives as deep. Well I let you into a secret. There deep enough to really hurt you.
Where I did ****-up was not admitting to myself a great deal sooner that I had a problem; but my brain just would not admit it to itself. Stupid I know, but there you go. The Southern Hospital should have had me dealt with a lot quicker and listened to what I was saying instead of arsing about with seasickness drugs. I can't quite believe that myself even as I type this.
Today (Thursday), I'm fine, just a bit of stiffness left and a great deal of stupidity felt.
Apart from that, they were both cracking dives. I would recommend them from a boat though next time and not a shore dives.
I'd also like to thank the boys and girls at the pot and Millport Hospital: they were great and I couldn't have asked for more. Nothing was too much trouble and the care was spot on. They even had a few cute nurses to cheer up my days. It's just a pity I wasn't ill enough to warrant a bed bath; but beggars can't be choosers, right?. If you're going to get bent, then this is the place to go.
Cheers,
Peter "
I thought I'd share this one with you. It happened to one of our team on the 19th Jan this year. Peter's one of our Scottish contingent and regularly dives the wrecks of the Clyde, Oban and the Sound of Mull.
Any way, here, in his own words (posted on our site), is what happened to him. Some of his language might be 'colourful' (part of the innate qualities of the Scots) and you may or may not agree with his findings, nonetheless, here's his story.
-------------------------------------------------
" Hi People,
Don't really know where to start, so I'll start at the start of the day.
Sunday the 19th January, 2003.
Went for a couple of dives in Loch Fyne. The 1st dive was Stallion Rock, from the shore, which, for those of you who don't know it, involves a long hard walk down and back up a fairly steep hill.
The dive went fine (36.8mtrs, 42mins, 8mins deco), then back up the hill. I felt fine. About an hour later we were helping a guy push over a barrell and on the way back I had a slight visual disturbance in the corner of my eyes, almost rainbow like in its colours. This passed after a couple of minutes and I put it down to having looked at the sun or something. In all I had a 2hr 1 min surface interval.
Dive 2 was Kenmore Point; which again involves a longer walk than Stallion, but not as steep. The dive was 30.4mtrs, 40mins, safetystop of 3 mins.
The nearest my 'pooter (Dive Computer) got to deco was 5mins away. Then walked back up to the cars and un-kitted.
When we were driving back to the pub I felt what can only be described as a twinge in my L-hand shoulder, but I put this down to carrying the gear up and down hills which; was entirely possible.
We spent a couple of hours in the pub and the pain got slightly worse, but it still did not seem anything to be really worried about. I left the pub and started to drive down the road and this is when it all went f*cking pear-shaped.
I realise for what I'm about to tell you I will get seriously flamed; but let this be a valuable lesson. If anyone can benefit by my honest account, then some good will have come of it.
Once I got into Inverary the pain was that bad I was feeling really sick and had to stop the van and get out. I was on my own in the van, so there was no-one to point out the screamingly bloody obvious.
I then travelled up the 'Rest and be Thankful' (a mountain pass of approx Alt. 1600ft), needing to stop sometimes every 1/2 mile; sometimes I could manage 2-3 miles with the pain and my eyes beginning to cloud over.
By this time I was getting out the van and physically screaming to try and alleviate the pain. I will say that I do not have a mobile (cell) phone, so I was literally on my own in the middle of nowhere at this point.
I struggled on down the other side of the 'Rest' and stopped at a lay-by again, at which time I saw a friend hurtle past me and toot his horn hello. I know he carries an O2 kit, but he didn't see me waving.
By now, I'm in tears.
Now I got really f*cking stupid. Got home about 8pm; the whole distance being about 70 miles and I started about 4.30pm (do the maths), ate 2 Paracetomol and thought if I went to bed I would be fine in the morning. I was in and out the bathroom all night trying to deal with the pain and it took me 'till 3am for me to finally admit to myself that I was bent.
Now I stupidly thought that there is nothing can be done for me at this time of night, so I screamed and cried my way through till 8am on the Monday morning. As an after-thought, I can remember at one point during the night thinking cutting my arms off at the shoulder would actually deal with the pain; stupid I know, but it's strange the way your brain reacts when you're bent.
Anyway, 8am on Monday, I took my carcass down to Casualty (the ER) at the Southern General Hospital. This was another mistake.
I walked straight in and said/cried "My names Peter Kelly, I'm a diver suffering from decompression sickness. Put me on 02 and 'phone this number". The number was Aberdeen Hyperbaric Unit.
After half-an-hour, I was still not on 02 (I had told several people by this point), though the thoughtful buggers gave me a couple of Co-Codamol for the pain.
Jeez, that was really going to help!!!! Finally a Doc came in, said she had just READ ABOUT IT IN A BOOK and I was suffering from decompression sickness and, in case I didn't know, was more commonly called the bends.
Again I repeated and asked for her to 'phone f*cking Aberdeen and put me on O2. Obviously I was getting a bit distraught by now. The Doc then put me on a saline-drip and unbelievably injected into the drip some kind of sea-sickness drug.
I asked if I could drink water. She 'did not know'. She then went and 'phoned Aberdeen. About half-an-hour later she came back and told me that Aberdeen had told her to put me on 02(!) and they would get a pot (chamber) ready for me. I also had loads of nurses and docs coming in to see what a bent diver looked like, as if I was some kind of bloody guinae pig. I'll tell you what a bent diver looks like. A curled up, snot-covered, crying mess. The Millport pot was ready for 9.30am, the hospital didn't get me there (approx 35miles) 'till 2.30pm.
When I got there the first thing the Doc wanted to know was who put the drip in? This was swiftly removed when I promised to start drinking water.
They asked where the pain was, which was from my shoulders all the way down to my wrists, and my hands were just numb. Then I did strength tests - which proved I did not have any.
Needless to say, I was taken into the chamber suffering from what the kind doctor in the Southern General diagnosed as 'the bends', and thought a seasickness injection might help.
After about half-an-hour, they checked my pain and strenghth with no change. This went on for another couple of hours every half-hour, untill I suddenly felt a bit of strenghth coming back and a lessening of the pain.
All-in-all, I was at 18 metres (in the pot) for 4-5 hrs and decompressing at 9 metres for 3-4hrs. I now hold the dubious distinction of the longest ever treatment Millport has done in 1 sitting.
For those that know it was a Royal Navy (RN) Table 5 or 6 with 2 extensions. I reckon the Table is 5hrs and an extension adds another 2 hours. This is the maximum Millport can do and if I relapsed during the night, then it would have been off to Aberdeen with me. That's how borderline on severity I was.
Went to hospital overnight and woke up the next day (Tuesday) feeling still pretty sore; though nothing compared to Monday. My elbows, wrists and hands were tender, but my shoulder still had a dull ache. So it was back into the pot for whats called a COMEX2. This was a quick 3hr 02-soak, which alleviated the pain that was left even more. Back to hospital for observation overnight and to see if I had to go in again the next day. Thankfully I was reasonably OK, but felt thoroughly kicked about.
The reasons for the bend are simple: bloody dive computers.
When mine was downloaded and examined (I had followed mine to the letter), I had missed a sh*t-load of stops according to the Buhllman's; and on the 2nd dive, I was actually off the table.
The dive-doc who treated me said that with the invention of dive computers, the bent diver rate almost trebled over-night. This on top of the walk up and down to the site, the water temp of 7degreesC, the climb over the 'Rest', the fact I've had a bend before and that I smoke, did not help my cause in any way.
The advice is really for me to never dive again; but if I want to do so, then take at least a year out and see the specialist at Aberdeen before I go back again.
I'm still considering what to do, but I'll make my mind up soon with this still fresh in my memory. I suspect I will dive again but will seriously change the way I dive and what kind of dive I do. I had begun to get blasé and stopped treating 35/40metre dives as deep. Well I let you into a secret. There deep enough to really hurt you.
Where I did ****-up was not admitting to myself a great deal sooner that I had a problem; but my brain just would not admit it to itself. Stupid I know, but there you go. The Southern Hospital should have had me dealt with a lot quicker and listened to what I was saying instead of arsing about with seasickness drugs. I can't quite believe that myself even as I type this.
Today (Thursday), I'm fine, just a bit of stiffness left and a great deal of stupidity felt.
Apart from that, they were both cracking dives. I would recommend them from a boat though next time and not a shore dives.
I'd also like to thank the boys and girls at the pot and Millport Hospital: they were great and I couldn't have asked for more. Nothing was too much trouble and the care was spot on. They even had a few cute nurses to cheer up my days. It's just a pity I wasn't ill enough to warrant a bed bath; but beggars can't be choosers, right?. If you're going to get bent, then this is the place to go.
Cheers,
Peter "
