Zen dog, dudes, and mouth-breathers

Yup. That's me. Underwater. With obvious hair issues, and apparently almost getting kicked in the head...

So tonight was Pool 4, and obviously my underwater camera from Ebay was working all right-- but I accidently put a full SD card in it, so I couldn't take many pics.

Tonight I was determined to tell Zen-- who hasn't seemed very zen lately-- that I needed to get on the fast track.

I finally figured him out, by the way. He's a dog. At the last pool one of the other students was an extremely attractive woman about 23-ish. I mean, no-one-deserves-to-look-that-good attractive. And Zen was goofy around her, and didn't get much done. That seems to be the thing. How's he expect to reach Nirvana if he can't stop slobbering? Now that I get that, it makes life easier. I know what to expect.

Gorgeous Chick wasn't here tonight, and Zen was a whole different person. A person I like better, frankly. Much more business-like.

So I told him I needed to get things done-- TWO WEEKS is all I have. He mumbled something about getting comfortable in the water and I gave him a nice determined face in return.

I was paired tonight with someone I haven't been in the pool with yet-- another pale chubby white chick like myself. No problem, I thought, at least we can commiserate about buoyancy issues, right? The other divers were good-natured frat boy types—the same ones I’d dived with on Tuesday. They were WAY ahead of me then, at least it seemed like it!

We started with the same ol’ skills, but this time I was keen on making it look like it was natural (fake it ‘til you make it). Pale Girl was all over the place, and when we took a quick break on the surface Zen quickly scrambled the pairs and… wait for it…

HE LET ME DIVE WITH THE FRAT BOYS. DUDE!!! I can do it. Graduating from the remedial squad and headed to the deep end, Baby!! Uh huh, you know it!

Zen told us to go to the deep end, and Dude #1 asked if we were just supposed to “dink around.” This was a good question—and Zen actually gave us specific things to do.

Add to all this the fact that I had a camera to play with underwater, and I was quite a happy camper. We worked on (to extend my zen metaphor) what I will call the lotus position—basically hovering half way between the top and bottom of the pool sitting Indian style. We practiced being able to raise and lower yourself by controlling your breathing. THAT was a trip. It kind of looks like someone doing pushups near the bottom of the pool, but they aren’t using their arms. Apparently I am a heavy breather because I had trouble doing the teeny little movements. I was UP too much or DOWN too much. But I started to get it. Scuba, remember, is about NOT moving too much… it’s about letting go.

And here’s an epiphany from tonight: I needed to breathe more like I was playing my sax. The exercises where you take your regulator (the mouth piece) out, everyone was trying to describe how to control exhaling, and Zen was saying it was more of a hum than an ah… and I thought—it’s like playing an instrument. Then Zen said we needed to exhale all the way—even a little extra air in the lungs and all of a sudden you’re floating—and we should use our diaphragms. Ah-ha! It IS like the sax!

Oh, but this is me we’re talking about, so it couldn’t all be rosey. I’m not a fearless frat boy. I’m a fearful freaked out chick, and some of the other new stuff was scary. We were supposed to take our masks off and let Zen drag us across the pool before being allowed to put the thing on again.

I have a little trouble with the mask off and on thing. Every time I take the blasted thing off under water I want to take a big breath through my nose. This is not a good idea, to say the least. So while Zen dragged Dudes 1,2, and 3 around without their masks, I thought I’d try a quick trial run. Yup, I sucked water up my nose.

Back at the surface Zen had me hold the side of the pool, then he took away my mask (the meanie), and made me just breathe through the regulator with my face in the water. I figured out that I am NOT a mouth-breather, but I’d better become one quick! I think I’m probably trying to breathe through my nose, even with the mask.

Long story short—I managed to do it—and still haven’t drowned myself.

When we got out I asked Zen just how retarded I really am under water.

“What do you mean?” he said, “Are there some of the skills you aren’t comfortable with?”
“No. I think everything’s fine.”
“Well, are YOU feeling comfortable down there?”
“Well, yeah, I’m getting there.”
He just smiled.

Very zen of you, Zen. Cheers.

Can't get away from the ray

Another LOVELY story about stingrays to get me all up tight. Here's the pic:

Find the story here .

Sigh. Maybe I should stay in the kiddie pool after all.

And...

Four weeks. Three doctor visits. Repeated bidding on Ebay. Two class films and lectures. Worrying, waiting, wondering... and I finally got back into the pool tonight and...

I was bored.

Been there. Done that. Same crap, different day.

I started thinking, "Do I really care about this?" "Why have I spent all this money and worry?"

I know what the problems are:

1. I'm doing this alone. While everyone else is dinking around with their partners at the bottom of the pool-- taking pictures, rolling around-- I'm preoccupied with how pruney my fingertips are, how much air I'm breathing, what my hair's doing. I need a distraction. It's time I did some heavy recruiting. I've got one friend threatening to dive...

"Scuba Dive may call you, Any night, any day, In your heart, you'll hear it call you:"Come away...Come away. Scuba dive will whisper, In the wind of the sea:"Here am I, your special water! Come to me, come to me!"

[Just a little sumpin sumpin for my geeky musical-loving friends]

2. There are no fish in swimming pools. No coral. No sunken ships. Plenty of sunken ear plugs, elastic bands, and floaties I don't care to mention, but really nothing interesting to see.

3. I feel like I'm in a time warp. I've gone with different people every time. Pool 1 was me looking foolish. Pool 2 was me proving I'm not really foolish. Pool 3 was me having to repeat Pool 2 because Zen apparently didn't believe Smiley when told that I'm not foolish.

I did get to do a tired diver drag (or some such nonsense on the surface). I also got to pull my mask completely off my head (at 13'), put it back on, and clear the water out-- all without having to surface. I had to ask to do it. Zen's giving me hand signals to do the flippin' Pool 1 skills and I shake my head and mime doing the new one. He gives me the okay and (of course) I do it fine. Ha!

Okay, fine, so for some reason I had this huge temptation to suck water into my nose and there was some hair tangling and it wasn't, you know, smooth... but I DID IT.

And then there was the little problem of me demanding weights (Zen said I didn't need them, Smiley had let me use them and things had gone so much better that time). He gave me two big torpedo thingeys that hooked onto each side of my BCD (vest) and sure enough, they made me sink. At one point I started to float and was mellowly wondering what was happening and it turns out one of my weights had fallen off. Zen grabbed it and grabbed me like a run away balloon and I went back to twiddling my thumbs.

So not a totally uneventful evening, anyway. I asked Zen afterwards if I was going to get everything done that I needed to in time for my trip and he said, "I don't know. That's up to you."

Enough with the zen, Zen. Let's get this baby in gear. I'm tired of idling.

Back in the saddle... er, uh scuba gear

[As fanfare plays in the background]

I get to go to the pool tonight-- uh huh, uh huh, oh yeah-- I'm back, Baby!!

Here's hoping for a smooth evening.

Ready, Set...

I'm still on standby.

Chompin' at the bit. Ready, willing, and able. Locked and loaded.

No go.

Zen was sick last week and couldn't dive. This week he's in Mexico. I haven't been in the water for weeks!!

Got my dive skin from online. (a dive skin is basically spandex long johns-- you can also wear them alone if it's warm enough to not need a wet suit but you still want protection). Can I just say that dive skins do not hide any flaws? At all. In fact, they may be the least attractive clothing known to man... or to woman. At least the wetsuit kind of squished things in. I'm still deciding if fire coral and nibbling critters are enough of a motivating factor for me to put that thing on again. We'll see.

Speaking of critters, I got a random email from my aunt about a sting ray migration. You know, the kite-like guys that managed to take down a guy who played with crocodiles for fun. The migration was taking place in-- you guessed it-- the Gulf of Mexico.

The old irrational... make that semi-rational... make that completely understandable fears are creeping back in. I'm rather choosey about who or what nibbles on me... not that stingrays nibble, but you get my drift.

Time to get back in the water before I get myself worked up again.

You ain’t getting’ near my throat—I’m not that kind of girl

The original offending apendage-- she don't look too bad, does she?

10 days ago I went to an Instacare place with what I thought was swimmer’s ear. The complete ABSURDITY of what has followed is staggering.

1) Dr. Rush Job says I have a torn eardrum. Prescribes ear drops. NO SCUBA FOR YOU!

2) Otolaryngologist [ear, nose, and throat guy] says I just, essentially, bruised my middle ear. Prescribes NOSE drops. NO SCUBA FOR YOU… this week, anyway.

a. Same specialist, same visit (let’s call him Dr. Duck) says the Eustachian tubes aren’t working right on the ear that DIDN’T cause me grief. Prescribes follow up visit the following week.

b. Same Duck, same visit, sends me to the audiologist to test Eustachian tubes, and, WHILE WE’RE AT IT, do a hearing check.

c. Audiologist says he thinks I have otosclerosis. I find out later this is a big deal and can lead to deafness. This is NOT related in any way to swimmer’s ear, or to whether or not I can dive again.

3) Have character-defining moment trying to come to terms with having otosclerosis. Do some reading and decide it’s a pretty hasty judgment and I’m not sure I buy it. New character-defining attribute: shoulder shrug.

4) Faithfully snort nasal spray for a week, even though it’s nasty (a lady does not snort ANYTHING).

5) Go to Dr. Duck for follow up visit.

a. Eustachian tubes retested. Still retarded. Doctor shrugs. SCUBA FOR YOU… but be careful. I figure that’s it, right? Wrong.

b. Doctor recommends snorting salt water twice a day to clear sinuses. I didn’t know my sinuses needed to be cleared. I tell him this sounds unpleasant and I am “unlikely” to do it unless he gives me a compelling reason. He says I’ll be able to smell better, and we live in the desert so it’s just a good idea. Say what??? NOT compelling.

c. Have new character-defining moment: actually think that if God had wanted me to snort salt-water, I’d be a fish, not a HUMAN BEING. [Of course, by this logic I wouldn't be strapping condensed air to my back and fins to my feet, either]

d. Doctor looks up my nose (remember, I figure I’m done here). I have a deviated septum, he says. I know where this is going.

“Do you snore?”
“Not that I know of.”
“How do you sleep?”
“Like a rock.”
[grasping, at this point] “Ever get sinus infections?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, we can do an outpatient surgery to correct the deviated septum, and take care of those big tonsils while we’re at it.”

e. URCH. Big tonsils? Remove them because they are big? THAT makes sense.

f. I start gathering my things… quickly, before he finds something else to charge me for.

g. I realize he has no intention of dealing with my original complaint (ears clearing for scuba), but that he HAS managed to freak me out about my hearing, insult my tonsils (okay, not really, but righteous indignation is fun), and he wants to operate on my nose for no apparent reason.

h. I realize that an otolaryngologist is an ear, nose, and throat specialist, and that my throat may be next. What else can he find?

6) I run screaming from the scene.

Zen Dude?

Zen continues to perplex me. In class yesterday we were talking about nitrogen narcossis, which is a condition that happens on really deep dives. The book and video said it affects coordination, impairs judgment, etc. It was in the same section as decompression sickness, which is no small thing.

But Zen got off on this thing about how it's like being drunk or high, only you ascend a few dozen feet and you're back to normal. He said that it affects people differently, so some people are just giggly and whatnot and others are trying to give the fishies their air to breathe and others are panicking and trying to rocket to the surface (bad idea that deep).

He said he was on a deep dive once and the numbers on his compass went away and he was thinking it was broken. Once he ascended a bit the numbers were magically back, and it was only then that he realized he'd been impaired.

One part of me wanted to experience it-- like a loophole in the Mormons-don't-get-high thing. Another part of me wanted to scold him for making light of something serious (that's the teacherly part of me). And sure enough, my friend/colleague who dives said that nitrogen narcossis is a big deal and very dangerous. Hmmm.

In any case my original impressions of Zen are changing just a bit.

I've had several friends comment that Zen seems, from my blog entries, to be kind of a dude-- but that's so NOT how I thought of him-- not how I still think of him-- and not how I meant to describe him. He's very serious. I mean really serious. Sometimes he teases members of the class, but with such a serious tone that it takes them a minute to realize he's teasing. This is the guy that had me freaked out with all of the "if you don't do X your lungs will explode" stuff. He's so NOT "what up, Dooooood? [insert surfer laugh]. I wouldn't have taken the class if he had been.

And then he does things like telling these stories.

I get the idea that levity is part of the package with scuba, though. You'd have to have a sense of humor to be seen in a wetsuit-- I don't care WHO you are!

The good, the bad, and the ugly: Story of a wetsuit

[This picture is not me of course, but it is the same wetsuit]

I told this story to my mother, whose response was, “You aren’t going to put that on your blog, are you?” Apparently, I am.

I had a conversation yesterday with a friend/colleague about the precarious nature of posting personal information on Facebook/blogs/etc. I worry about what people will think, especially given the fact that I know of at least two students who have read my blog (hello, ladies!).

As part of my oath to the secret-society-of-snobby-English teachers I also have to look with disdain at the current fad of confessing better-left-unsaid intimate details of one’s life and calling it Literature. But what’s the point of having embarrassing experiences if you can’t ring a few laughs out of them?

Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to the embarrassing part.

Brief review: I bought a wetsuit on Ebay. A neoprene instrument of humiliation waiting to happen.

It arrived yesterday. I gleefully ripped it from the package. I poured my legs into it. Nothing too exciting there—it isn’t much different than putting on pantyhose, frankly, and I do that every day. And I’m happy to cover the white white legs.

I put my arms in. I went to zip up the front and… oh dear. That wasn’t gonna work. I wriggled I wiggled I giggled. I figured, I lived through the 80s, surely I can get into tight clothes. I remembered a particular pair of favorite jeans in 9th grade that I had to zip up by laying on my back, so I tried that. I made progress, but let’s just say that I am more well-endowed than my wetsuit.

So now what? I think with enough effort I could [eh hem] mash what I need to and get the thing on. The problem is that one does not suit up in private. Wetsuits are REALLY WARM and you aren’t supposed to get into them until just before you dive. I can’t be performing the pant-pant-wriggle-squirm dance on a boat in front of other divers. I want them to save me if I’m in trouble under water.

So, I’m redoubling my efforts at reworking my bod, but I am no closer to being a card-carrying-diver-with-her-own-stuff. Stupid ears. Stupid bod.

And for now the wetsuit is going in the drawer with the belly dance scarves. (I’m not kidding, by the way—but of course that’s another story.) Maybe I’ll get them both out sometime. Sounds like an entertaining Saturday night.

Things that make you go hmmm...

Can't go in the water but I'm determined not to let the momentum fade. I'm gonna do this, dang it!

As I await the clearing of the ears and the arrival of my wetsuit from Ebay, I still have a few issues to deal with.

1) Oh how the mighty Zen has fallen... You know when you're a kid and you think your parents know everything and then you discover they're just human beings? It's sort of a crushing blow. So Zen was right about my ear-- not a torn ear drum--but his sort of complete dismissal of the possibility that I shouldn't go in the water for a few days was perplexing. I thought he was Mr. Safety.

2) I'm drinking what? --Zen told this great story about how there's a man-made lake here locally that they use to dive and how they've been sinking various interesting things in it so people can play with them underwater. There's a video on YouTube of them driving a VW bus into the lake (check out 69 VW dive site). They have had trouble sinking a boat, he said, because they can't put motors in and without motors boats float. Even with holes in them. He finished the story by mentioning that the reason they are "so careful" about what goes down there is that THE WATER IN THE MAN-MADE LAKE IS OUR LOCAL DRINKING WATER [cue the gagging sounds].

People are swimming in my drinking water? And submerging VWs in it?

I knew there was a reason I like Evian... Then again, that probably just means I'm drinking expensive water that French folk have been swimming in. Ack! Blech!