Holiday Interrupted

As my head broke the surface and I filled my lungs with air, my head screamed in a panic.

I took up scuba diving two years ago when I did a study abroad in Australia and spent a glorious week on a boat on the Great Barrier Reef. After that I was hooked. However I did not have the opportunity to dive again until I came to Borneo. Because I wanted to ease myself back into diving, I started with two shallow ten metre dives at Tanku Abdul Rahman Marine Park, off the coast of Kota Kinabalu. I was nervous before my first dive but once underwater I felt comfortable again and my nerves evaporated. I was treated to a spectacular array of fish, a turtle and even a baby shark. The second dive had less visibility but was enjoyable nonetheless and I remembered why I fell in love with scuba diving.

Subsequent to my trip to the Kinabatangan River, I received numerous recommendations to dive off of Mabul Island, and I was not disappointed. I saw tons of turtles, clown, parrot and rainbow fish in addition to a variety of other fish and sea creatures I couldn’t even begin to name. By the end of the three dives I was exhausted but exhilarated and couldn’t wait for my dives the following day.

On my final day of diving, the first dive was incredible, we saw an octopus that proceeded to almost spill its ink, a barracuda with large teeth, puffer fish and other amusing fish with funny faces, clearly my fish identification needs some work. My second dive at a diving site called Paradise was an old shipwreck with a strong current and reduced visibility. That’s when paradise became hell.

My buddy, the dive master and I descended and were underwater for about ten minutes when I felt a bit strange, a feeling I’m not sure if I can attribute to what happened next, as the subsequent seconds were a blur. As I went to breathe in, I was met with a gush of salt water and it was then that I realized my regulator was gone. I couldn’t locate it and my buddy and the dive master did not notice my distress, as I suspect I had moved away from them due to the current. Therefore I did the worst thing possible, I panicked. Claustrophobia hit me and I wanted out. I ripped off my mask, my body went into survival mode and rationale went out the window. All my brain could think was oxygen, NOW!

I shot to the surface from 14 metres. In my distressed state, when the water became lighter I thought I had reached the top, only to take a deep breath and be met with a mouthful of water.My brain slowed and I remember thinking, this is it. Fortunately, my body wasn’t ready to give up just yet and propelled me the extra metre until my head broke the surface and I breathed in.

I was in a complete state of shock and dazed. My legs were still kicking keeping me afloat until the fog momentarily cleared and I inflated my BCD. I lay there whimpering, with thoughts of 1) I’m going to die 2) I want my mom and 3) damn, I won’t be able to do my third dive.

Time slowed as the diving boat came over and the captain helped me out of my gear before gingerly helping me into the boat. I continued to whimper in a state of disbelief, I just wanted to wake-up from this nightmare. Obviously, when the dive master and my buddy couldn’t find me underwater they surfaced. I was immediately brought back to the jetty, when BOOM, my body went rigid, the world turned off and I woke-up on the ground surrounded by several people with an oxygen mask on my face.

I laid on the jetty, my eyes with sheer terror in them trained on the ceiling, not wanting to see the worried expressions in their faces. They checked for rashes, made sure my toes, fingers and muscles were in working order (thankfully they were), before I wearily sat up feeling drunk and disorientated.
As accommodation on Mabul Island was on the expensive side, I decided to stay on the mainland in a town called Semporna and commute each day to dive. The silver lining of this ordeal was that I got to hunker down in the owner of the resorts cabin, which was beautifully made-up and way out of my budget.

The staff continued to administer pure oxygen and monitor my breathing and strength. A few hours later, when I displayed no symptoms of decompression sickness, they were confident I was going to be fine. But insisted I stay in Semporna for the night instead of my original plan to take the night bus to Kota Kinabalu.

Approximately nine hours after I had surfaced, my legs began to tingle and my mind wandered to the worst case scenario. The employees at the diving place managed to calm me down and distract me from my current predicament. But once bedtime hit and I was left alone, my thoughts began to wander again and Googling ‘scuba diving rapid ascent’ and ‘symptoms of decompression sickness’ did nothing to ease my worries.

I have never in my life, been so happy to wake-up and be able to wiggle my toes and fingers and be able to walk, although the tingling in my legs continued. I wolfed down a large breakfast, haven hardly eaten anything the day before and was optimistically informed the tingling could be from dehydration.

On the bus to Kota Kinabalu, I chugged water like my life depended on it, because as far as I was concerned it did. Much to my embarrassment I had episodes of crying on the bus as the tingling continued and I replayed the events like a horror movie. Half-way through the ten hour bus ride, I had consumed nearly 6 litres of water, when mercifully my legs stopped tingling. Of course I was peeing like crazy in the bathroom bus and got some looks after the tenth visit. I was just beginning to relax, when two hours before the bus reached Kota Kinabalu, my right arm went completely limp and I felt like a thousand needles were poking my skin. I attempted to remain calm and focus on anything else but I was scared to death.

I was set to fly out the following morning but was too nervous to fly as the tingling intensified. I made the snap decision to go straight to the hospital, to give me peace of mind. The bus station is located forty minutes outside of downtown and no one seemed to know of a nearby hospital. Frustrated and desperate I got into a taxi and tearfully asked him to take me downtown. As I sat blubbering in the backseat, my tear ducts were certainly getting a workout; the taxi driver looked at me with concern and asked if I was alright. The entire story came pouring out and he offered to take me to the best hospital in Borneo, the Queen Elizabeth Hospital.

I was immediately placed in the semi-critical zone, and was given a series of tests. My decompression sickness was considered mild and therefore I would not require a hyperbaric chamber, but the doctors had to monitor me for the next 24 hours in case my symptoms worsened.

Before, I could be admitted to the hospital ward, I needed to pay a deposit of 400 RM ($150). I was low on cash and tried the only ATM on the hospital premise but with no luck. I laid out my options for them: I had $100 US (for my Nepal visa) or my passport as collateral or I could go downtown and take out the money. Thankfully, one of the senior doctors gave permission to admit me on the grounds that I would pay once I had the cash.

I woke up the next morning disorientated and in a dream state as I didn’t fully comprehend where I was, all I knew was the tingling in my arm had stopped. Throughout my hospital stay, the tingling in my legs returned in intervals, although mildly and I was told I could fly again the next day.

I probably won’t go diving again for a while, not because of what happened but because my next destinations of Nepal, India and Canada are not diving places. But I am confident I will dive again, as the saying goes, when you fall off the horse you have to get right back on.

While my trip to a Malaysian hospital, is something I could I have done without, it was an experience and hey it makes for a great story.