Second Worst Pain in My Life (Apr. 22)

This picture was taken a few days after the fact in question. I had to get a photo that simulated the nightmarish moment my back was bounced well out of whack and this was close, though not quite as crowded and seas much calmer.

I thought I died and went to Hell today. I would say it was the worst pain I’ve ever gone through, but my experience with kidney stones over in Thailand almost 24 years ago still holds the record for excruciating pain. Now that was Hell; I think it was worse than having a baby, but who knows. Today pushed those limits, albeit for a much shorter time.

I was diving, minding my own business, enduring a bit of a knot in my back, the same knot that has been building up for the last month or so, getting progressively worse, little by little, when it came time to climb back into the dive boat. The climb was not easy, the waves were rollicking. I eased my way painfully to the front of the starbard side when we bolted off back to Sabang, a couple miles around a choppy point. Our pilot was rather unforgiving, being young and able to tolerate a hard bounce, much like we endured coming to Sabang from Abra more than around 10 days ago in the banka.

There were a couple of vicious bounces we took that made my back whelp in severe pain. It felt like a broken rib pierced my backside. Breathing became a major task. By the time we pulled up to our anchorage, I could hardly move. I crawled ashore, doing everything I could to not cry—I did that in Thailand and realized it was not the manly thing to do. I fell to the cement in the shade and torturously turned this way, then that way, trying my best to find a position that wasn’t killing me. I felt like somebody was impaling me with a spear but lacked the strength to finish me off; It was hell. Truthfully, I thought diving was definitely over and I would be lucky not to be flown back to the U.S. in a hospital bed. (I was already imagining how I would take my own life to avoid going through all the trouble that was roaring down the road toward me, in the near future).

Ever since my kidney stone experience in Thailand nearly 24 years ago, I have never been without Vicodin. That’s where I first became a Vicodin addict. I make sure that I am always within minutes of Vicodin wherever I am. I had one of the work crew retrieve my fanny pack and within minutes I was feebly rumaging about for a four year old bottle of Vicodin. I pulled out two Vicodins, twice as much as I have taken in many months, perhaps a year. I gulped one down and told myself to endure as long as I could before I would add another pill to the mix. I was psyched to take three, maybe four over the next couple of hours if I had to.

Strangely, after about 15 minutes, the pain became bearable! I thought maybe it was my imagination. Then within 30 minutes, my sense of humor returned and I started frailly moving. I had gone from puzzling together how I was going to get to an emergency room in the hospital in Puerto Galera, to being able to endure the circumstances. Unbelieveable! Within an hour, I was up, bathed, getting dressed, and feeling almost normal! How was that possible, but it was. I had promised God I would become a saint if He extricated me from this Hell. What! Had I really said that?! I couldn’t wait to start giving Rhio a bad time for not being able to identify a common specie of sand perch.

So here I am, 12 hours down the road from that time, feeling better than I did yesterday. I never did take the second Vicodin. Somehow, someway, my condition has completely reversed! Yes, I have back pain, but it is nothing compared to what it was. How did that happen?! If I have ever dodged a bullet, I think this was it. I hope this is not a precursor of what might be in store for old age.