In the Hood

Yesterday I completed my ninth "dive". The time spent getting ready for and in the chamber over those nine sessions has ranged from relatively light-hearted and positive to a potent reminder of the pain and/or serious medical conditions our diving community represents. But, to back up, I left off describing what a treatment session is like with the end of the "descent".

Once the required forty-five feet of pressure has been reached, it is time for the staff member in the chamber to put on the patients' transparent hoods and begin their 100% oxygen flow. That first day, when it was my turn, Matt shook out my hood from its collapsed storage state, placed it over my head, connected it to my collar, and turned a valve above to start my oxygen. I did not have to be told to breathe.

For the first minutes, I attended to how I was feeling. Was I light-headed? I thought perhaps, for a few seconds, but then no. Was I nauseous? Apparently not. I could see my hood move gently in and out as I inhaled and exhaled. Gradually I relaxed and looked around to assess what would be my home base for almost two hours a day, five days a week, for at least the next four weeks.

The mixed motifs of my surroundings were in some ways so absurd as to make me smile, as long as I separated what I saw from why I was there. Think hospital ward, cum deep sea submersible, occupied by beekeepers with transparent hoods wearing medical scrubs, and throw in two 5 X 7 inch DVD/TV screens held by magnets, one "fore" and one "aft" and you'll get a sense of the overall environment. Today the TVs are tuned to NBC, so the Today Show from Vancouver is on the screen. One can't hear very well encumbered by the hood, but I found that watching a clip of a skater twirling gracefully or a skier racing down a complicated track with incredible skill can be a pleasant distraction. For a while I alternated between closing my eyes and breathing comfortably and glancing up at the miniature athletes dazzling the world with their talent.

I had brought in a book from the waiting area, where reading material was available for all to borrow. I wasn't sure I'd be able to concentrate enough to read, but this seemed a "light" diversion, a mystery, so I gave it a try. I had to hold the book at just the right angle for the print to be well lit and for me to be looking through the central area of my hood, but it was definitely doable. Once again I found that switching back and forth between a distraction and relaxed breathing left me feeling like I was in a good space. Before I knew it, Matt was removing each of our hoods, for our required five minutes off of 100% oxygen after 30 minutes on. We would do two more thirty minute sessions before we were done. So far, so good.