This morning I was thinking about tethering myself to lifesaving devices and their power to help us surface from the deep. This has reference to a required demonstrable skill for a lifeguarding class I was required to take last year. To perform a deep water submerged victim rescue, the lifeguard performs a feet first dive, finds and holds onto to the victim's side, uses both hands in a coordinated manner to pull on the towline until reaching the surface then places the red tube between the guard and victim. It's not easy, especially in a stressful testing situation, let alone in real life. The little 16 year old would be lifeguards did great but you can imagine how I did; me performing under pressure-not a good mix. It was miserable. My wet hands were shaking so badly after pulling my classmate out of the water that I struggled for several minutes just put the stupid nitrile gloves on. My CPR manikin had to wait a long time to get its' CPR. In real life the victim would have been dead.
A couple of weeks ago I was in another situation requiring lifesaving skills during my Wilderness First Responder training to fill another work requirement. This time around the class was much more demanding. My training was full of hard core wilderness/adventure people with the likes of helicopter skiing guides who had been in avalanches, a guy starting up an outfitting business to hunt bears and lions, a medical director who oversees operations for climbing expeditions in Nepal, an OT whose husband did search and rescue or was in special ops or something intense, a seasoned canyoneering dude with a scar for every high risk mishap he's had in the last 30 years, and then there was me...Well, let's just say I didn't quite fit in as Mary Poppins full of sweetness and light who freaks out under pressure.
I was put on the spot since I was grouped with the "recerts" who were suppose to already know what they were doing. So in my group trauma scenario, my trainer set it up-"a bus load of tourist at a National Park just crashed into a tree; you're x miles away from cell phone service; you are the first on the scene; now go respond." Trying to act as point to triage and treat multiple victims had me running around the room like a foolish little girl who obviously didn't know what she was doing. It was a joke. I was a joke.
It wasn't much better when I only had one pretend victim as I tried to pull traction (which I have never done) on a dislocated shoulder and use a fake Epi pen properly. When I'm super stressed, every little piece of information flies out the window-my mind goes completely blank. Not only did I miss some key pieces of the assessment, but I apparently pretend shot myself with the epi pen. Great. Though I nearly got a perfect score on the written test, I failed the practical and ended up staying for much of the remainder of the week to complete additional training.
It sounds funny now, but it was not funny then. Since only 2 days prior to the start this wilderness responder class, I literally could not find the strength to get out of bed to return to the doctor and have my blood drawn. I was so feverish and dehydrated-my body wasn't cooperating. I was still dealing with this allergic reaction to "something" during much of this training. I was itchy, puffy, uncomfortable and felt like my skin was drying up and falling off. I was not in my best form during this training but I blame it more on my mental state.
All this performance under pressure stuff sent me head long into an emotional crisis of self evaluation. I spent the following week staying in bed much longer, not because I was sick, but because I felt a little aimless and unmotivated. Getting back on track at work was difficult after my absence. I was a fish out of water.
Looking back at those weeks, I felt like I was submerged under water, struggling to breathe. The only constant thread running through each morning during those weeks was reading a couple chapters of the Book of Mormon on my cell phone. As I lay in bed trying to face the new day, it seemed like each verse spoke directly to me and gave me perspective and some courage. It was a lifeline of faith, hope, and charity. It was a lifeline reminding me of the vital and lifesaving doctrines of Christ.
This morning, when considering whether or not to share my testimony during sacrament meeting, the image of the red rescue tube came to mind and I equated it with the Book of Mormon. It acted as a heavenly tether to the surface of the land of the living; all I had to do was reach up and keep pulling and eventually I would rise from the abyss and breathe again. Perhaps that's a bit too dramatic; I really wasn't that low but I know the Book of Mormon has dramatic, mighty power to save. It is a buoyant object I can rely on-a great tether!
