With a fair amount of experience in this area, I feel relatively qualified to answer to this one. Folks die on boats. Divers will continue to show up at the dive boat out of shape, and with a far higher opinion of their skills and general health than they should have. Ask the average diver to give you their opinion of their general diving skills, and 90% of them will tell you that they are above average. Ask any 45-55 year old sedentary white male how their health is, they will tell you it is fine, and that their doctor will give them a pass. It isn't the older gentlemen like DandyDon (who has dived with me in the past, so I know of what I speak) who are at risk, they know their limitations, they know their general health, because they had a health scare in the past few years, so they know how to take care of themselves. The scary ones are guys like me, 46 years old, still bulletproof from youth, overweight, high cholesterol, not so active as a 24 year old (when was the last time I played a full game of soccer), but don't notice their declining health, well, because we can still lift 300 lbs and chase the dog, right?
And they are in good health for scuba diving. Right up until anything goes wrong. 5 dives per day, no sweat. Until the one where you get away from the boat, and you try like hell to get back because you don't want to take the perceived "dinghy ride of shame". The current is kicking your butt, you won't get in the dinghy even when we send it for you, and that cholesterol clot breaks free and now we all have a real problem on our hands.
You've gone from being a participant to being a hell of a liability. You can't help me get you in the boat, once we get you in the boat, you can't help me get you on the big boat, you can't breath for yourself, and you can't deliver oxygen to your cells. We have to do everything for you, and you're leaking nasty bodily fluids out of every orifice, and I don't know where you've been. I can help you breath, but i can't circulate your blood while you're in the water. So it's going to be until I get you back to the big boat before I can oxygenate your cells, and that might be too long. Oh, I have to rescue your 24 lb weightbelt and all of your other gear too, because I'm going to get sued because you think you're still in shape, and so do your surviving heirs, and they can't figure out why I wasn't able to save your chubby ass. So I have to ensure all of your gear makes it back to the boat so I can prove that you ran out of air, or that I didn't give you bad air, or your regulator failed, or didn't fail, or .... you get the picture, so your revival will be delayed until I can recover your gear, too.
Now, when you die on my boat, or try very hard to die, I won't panic. You're dead, but I have 29 other folks to worry about. So, while I am trying to be a miracle worker and breath life back into you, someone better be doing a welfare check (that's what we call a roll call), the other captain is firing up, we need to recover the dinghy and divemaster, all the other divers, pick up weights, ladders, notify the coast guard, activate EMS, breakout and print a copy of the Diving Accident Management Plan, call the insurance company (you'd better believe it, I want my lawyer notified long before I hit the dock), and ensure that every piece of first aid equipment is on scene before we leave the site.
I'm going to have to do CPR on you for the 8 hours it takes to get to the dock, unless I can turn you over to a faster boat, helicopter, or I have a doc on board who will declare you dead, or you start breathing on your own. We are 2 for 4 for revival, by the way. That's actually a pretty good record. Meanwhile, half of the other passengers are freaked out and barely above catatonic, and the other half are in the CPR rotation. Each person can do CPR for about 5 minutes before they are totally wasted, so we tend to switch out after 10 breath cycles, or about 300 compressions. Still, we're a pretty ragged bunch by the time we get to the dock.
The moral of the story is, we aren't going to change the way divers report their skills or health. Divers will die on boats, trips, and in the water. Operators MUST learn that panic only gets others hurt, and the only way to treat the casualty is methodically, following whatever casualty procedures your operation has written up beforehand to control the situation. Don't have casualty procedures? You aren't doing what it takes to keep people safe as best you can. You are negligent, in the words of opposing council. Didn't follow your procedures? You are grossly negligent. Left a diver behind who died because you panicked? Woe be unto you.
In a previous life, I operated nuclear reactors for the U. S. Navy. We got drilled over and over about how to combat a casualty. We drilled weekly, were evaluated in out drill performance monthly, and were inspected by Naval Reactors cyclically. I can't remember what the cycle was. Drills can imitate real life, but when stuff breaks, and casualties happen for real, it never goes like the drill did. I used to tell the students I taught to stop, think, then act (sound familiar?). If they just couldn't figure out what to do, or couldn't remember the proper steps, go get the book. Following established procedures will never get you in trouble, because you can always blame the guy that wrote the book. Causing a second casualty because you didn't think it through will hang you every time.
Sorry for the long rant.
Frank
), just looking for the best way to keep 'em honest. Seriously, I read about, what to me, is an alarming number of diver fatalities due to heart attack. Without knowing more about this man, 43 seems young. So what more can be done to motivate individual responsibility and hopefully minimize this specific statistic? Is there something...long before the trip begins, I mean.
