Oxygen Hoarder

Update: No baby. Janna is just a little impatient, but doing well. I'm much more impatient than she is. I assured her that she will not be pregnant forever and this baby HAS to come eventually....but I'm not 100% sure about that at this point :) I'm thinking of keeping the blanket for myself. :)

Ok. Close your eyes and picture this:

We are 60 feet below the surface in the warm, tropical waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Magnificent coral formations in pinks, purples, and oranges climb upwards toward the surface like skyscrapers. Schools of brightly colored tropical fish dart left, then right, creating swirls of vibrant color. A sea turtle gracefully soars through the waters unbeknownst to the divers gazing in awe.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, creating swarms of bubbles above my head.
There is no doubt that I am in my "happy" place.

The Divemaster signals a question to our group, "How much air left?"
Lawyer checks her gauge and indicates with her fingers on her forearm that she has 1500 PSI remaining. Lawyer's husband glances down and indicates 1800 PSI. Ev, breather extraordinaire, indicates that he still has over 2000 PSI left in his tank. I reach around for my gauge and carefully examine the numbers. Shit. I tap the gauge, for fear that it has malfunctioned. Shit. I sheepishly indicate that I have 800 PSI remaining in my tank. The Divemaster reaches for my gauge to confirm my scant O2 levels. Scoldingly, he shakes his finger at me, indicates that I and my dive buddy (poor Ev) must ascend, perform our safety stop, and surface immediately. Shit.

Once Ev and I safely reach the surface, (100 PSI to spare!) I can sense Ev's disappointment with our dive being cut about 15 minutes shorter than that of our friends. I assure him that they're not seeing anything more down there anyway. We were pretty much at the end of the reef. Once lawyer and Lawyer's husband surface, it is apparent that we've missed miraculous things: dancing dolphins, mermaids, and shark attacks. Shit. I'm ruining Ev's dive experience because I am...

A O2 hoarder. I am a hoarder of the Oxygen.

haha. I'm about to consume a ridiculous amount of oxygen!

I had no idea until I started diving just how much Oxygen I hoard. Ever been in a small room with me and felt claustrophobic? Yep, likely because I'm stealing your oxygen. I love oxygen. It's free. It's good for my brain. Must have more.

But seriously, I am fully aware that I'm consuming excessive amounts of oxygen on dives and I have 3 theories as to why this is occurring:

1) Excitability: I get really really excited underwater. Lawyer's husband will swim by and show me that we are at 100 ft and my heart races, my pulse quickens, and I consume more oxygen, "Holy shit! I can't believe I'm at 100 ft!!!"
2) Spontaneous talking: I am completely aware that no one can understand what I'm saying beneath the surface. Doesn't stop me from talking though. I talk to turtles, "Hey Turtle, how's it going?" I  talk to Ev, "This is awesome!" I've even talked to angelfish whilst showing them my angelfish tattoo on my ankle, "Look, it's you!" I'm sure that doesn't affect my O2 consumption? haha
3) Flipper: My dive buddies call me flipper because I'm constantly flapping my arms while I'm diving. Imagining little fins, I rapidly move my hands up and down in the water. Does it help me swim? No. Does it help my buoyancy? Not really. Does it result in more oxygen consumption? Probably.

We can do this!

This is how my hands look.

So, as we depart for a fabulous dive holiday on a little island just off the coast of Honduras called Roatan, my "mini" goal will be to consume a respectable amount of oxygen during dives so that my dive buddy (Ev) doesn't feel the need to turn my 02 off and send me on my way. I will return in a week with a new goal for the month of February, which is a pretty flippin' cool goal if you ask me.

As I pack our scuba gear for our vacation, I am overwhelmed with thoughts of Ryan. Ryan loved diving. In fact, he may have played a part in the invention of scuba diving ;) Ryan once told us a hilarious tale of his younger days. Apparently when Ryan was a kid (about 9 or 10, I think), he observed the scuba divers at Candle Lake and figured that he didn't require all the fancy equipment to scuba dive. He made a plan. He filled a backpack with rocks, cut off a piece of garden hose, grabbed a snorkel mask and headed out on his paddleboat to 10-15 feet of water. He thought his plan was foolproof! Placing the backpack of rocks on his back, he jumped in the water with the garden hose in his mouth. The pressure was too great and he (surprisingly) was unable to breath through the hose. He told us that he couldn't get the backpack off, so he grabbed his knife (what 9 year old carries a knife?) and cut the backpack free and surfaced just in time to begin breathing again. Only Holowaty!

This beats the garden hose, hey Holowaty?

One of my best most recent memories of Ryan is on the May long weekend, about 3 months before he died. It was a perfect day - we all met at the islands via boat, which is unprecedented for Candle Lake this early in the season (typically there's still ice on the water!) I don't think Ryan had his new boat yet (anyone who knows Ryan knew that this was the summer of his new boat! It even had it's own facebook photo album devoted to it!) Sipping on beers in the hot May sun, we talked to Ryan about our winter adventures. Ryan had been scuba diving in Bali and, in typical Holowaty style, had animated tales to tell of his adventures. Ryan eloquently explained to us, in detail, how to puke most effectively (if necessary) underwater whilst diving. Lawyer and I listened intently, as this is one of our greatest fears. I mean, who wants to puke underwater? I won't do this story justice, but it goes something like this (picture high pitched squeals, more "f bombs" and big hair):

"I'm at 60 feet and I know I gotta puke. So I just puke in my f'n reg (regulator). But I'm hittin' the purge button the whole time. F'n puke everywhere! (voice is now that high pitch that only dogs can hear) the fish f'n loved it! Ate it all up! Cleared it out of my reg and it was all cool. No big deal."

Lawyer, of course, took mental notes, (she gets seasick a lot) and asked lots of questions ("So, how did you inhale as you were barfing?") as I laughed my ass off. Only Holowaty. One of a kind.

There are thousands of theories as to what happens once one dies. Heaven? reincarnation? Nothing? I don't know exactly what I believe, but it certainly is comforting to picture our friend, Ryan, continuing to "live," doing the things he loves. Maybe he's surfin' some gnarly waves or chillin' on his boat on a perfectly calm lake or diving with some amazing sea life. I don't know. I picture him checking in on his buddies from time to time (He had a LOT of buddies), and seeing what we're all up to. Perhaps he'll see Ev and I diving and remember all of his dives, the laughs, and that perfect day in May. Although life carries on for all of us, I hope he can sense how much we all miss him and think about him. He is very much alive through all of his stories and experiences that he shared with us. He truly was one of a kind.

epic hair, buddy. Epic.