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Apparently unchallenging inland-site dives were being blighted for Craig Walford by regular visits to the hyperbaric chamber. Could he really be that unsuited to UK diving? |
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ONCE I HAD MY ADVANCED OPEN WATER qualification, I set about diving on a regular basis. My dive buddy was as keen as I was, and fortunately I live only about 15 minutes away from my beloved Stoney Cove.
The next tasks were to rearrange all the family holidays, with my newfound hobby suddenly top priority, and to build up my dive kit. The old credit card took a serious hammering, but I got nervous when it came to throwing the best half of a grand at a drysuit.
However, Stoney in December convinced me to invest £150 in a sound, if slightly dated, secondhand drysuit. Happy days! I was as warm as toast.
But there was a problem. My dive buddy was starting to cool on the idea of diving through the winter. He was still using his not-so-semi-dry.
Totally won over by the unbelievable benefits offered by a drysuit, I convinced my wife that a further investment was needed. I was sure that the hardcore divers at Stoney were sniggering behind my back. I just didn't feel trendy enough.
A very satisfying Hunter Pro 450 CBX was purchased, with all the glitz and silver flashings you could ever wish for. I stiffed my buddy into my old suit at a small profit and once again diving was in abundance.
Or so I thought. Dive number 37 was an uneventful 46 minutes' worth, with around 15 minutes spent at 21m. But about half an hour after the dive, I was experiencing some very strange feelings in my right elbow - itching, a dull ache and an almost burning sensation.
Around two hours later, I experienced fatigue on a scale I had never known before. I put this down to the early hour at which I had needed to get up for a place in the bottom car park, and attributed the arm to lumping 15 litre cylinders around.
I knew from what I remembered of my training that something wasn't quite right, but I had too little diving experience to be sure of my ground.
So, stupidly, I left this condition for nearly a week. The pain in my arm did not ease, and then I recalled an article I had read in Diver which had given the phone number for the Navy Diving Medic. I called for what I expected to be "a chat".
Three hours later, tucked up by a very pleasant nurse in Hull's hyperbaric chamber, recompression was upon me. I spent a night there, enjoyed some great food, returned for a second session and a quick once-over and was sent home and told to do no diving for a month.
On dive 42, the elbow problems reappeared - on an even more uneventful and shallower, albeit long, dive. My wife was worried to death, but I was a fit 35-year-old and I was getting annoyed. I had done dives in my old suit that were deeper, longer and colder without incident. I became convinced that the new suit was the problem.
I returned to Hull for another 24-hour stopover. The consultant was bemused but suggested that, although extremely rare, a very tight squeeze on the elbow joint restricting the blood flow might hamper my off-gassing. He suggested that I measure my new suit against the old one. Phil Broadman from Mike's shop in Rugby could not be more helpful.
He measured both arm-widths and found nothing out of the ordinary, so he got me to try the old suit, insisting that I put it on exactly as I would normally do.
Again, after pulling and tugging and checking for anything tight, nothing strange occurred, so I put on my cool CBX.
The second Phil zipped me in, I could feel this very uncomfortable pressure in my inner right elbow every time I bent the arm. The sensation was acute because I was wearing only a T-shirt, rather than a thick insulating suit. We'd cracked it - or so we thought.
Because of the snazzy silver flashes, a triple seam, which ended in a point similar to, and as hard as, an arrowhead, was pressing very hard into the joint.
The left arm was fine, so Phil kindly pulled a spanking new drysuit off the peg and I slipped it on with relief.
The relief didn't last long. The old problem was still there.
Phil scratched his head for a moment. Then he suggested that I don the original drysuit again, but this time put the left arm in first. His hunch was correct. With the dropping and twisting action of the arm and shoulder, the seam was ending up at the front of my arm, instead of running down the back of the elbow.
I had learnt some valuable lessons. First, never wait to get your health checked out, no matter how stupid you feel. I'm sure the first visit was a bend, but probably not the second.
However, if I hadn't gone back I would never have thought to get the suit checked. I would have dived and suffered again and, for the sake of my wife's sanity, would have packed it in, thinking I was simply not suited to, or made for, diving.
Also, had I paid as much attention to checking my gear, including the fitting, as I had paid to admiring it, I wouldn't have had problems in the first place!
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