Life’s Not a Heated Indoor Pool
I witnessed a 14 year old boy drown.
The sunset was orange and the sea was calm. I was busy training for competitive lifesaving when a sudden rescue call from The National Sea Rescue Institute interrupted us. There had been a report of a bystander pulling an unconscious child out of the ocean. I watched as the senior lifeguards hurried to jump into cars or make the two kilometer run down to the beach to assist. I was only a junior lifeguard at the time so I did not have enough experience to be a first responder. Nonetheless, my friend and I decided we would paddle down to assist if needed.
On the scene, we saw the lifeguards rotating CPR cycles amongst themselves, while the paramedics quickly administered injections and defibrillators. The collaboration of the lifeguards and paramedics formed a perfect rhythm, everyone immersed in their resposnibilties, fighting for the boy’s life. The child’s stomach inflated with every compression. The father of the child was crying as he watched strangers do what they could while he could do nothing.
Suddenly, everything around me slowed. I watched the father fall to his knees while people held him back. The panic among the crowd almost masked the tears running down my own cheeks. Tears blurred my vision, but I knew exactly what had just happened.
It was clear that the boy had passed.
Nevertheless, the lifesavers and paramedics continued to perform to the best of their abilities, using their energy, resources and willpower, clinging to the smallest sliver of hope to revive him while the sun set to dark. They performed CPR for over an hour and I could see the sweat and tears they had put into it. It was for nothing, but it wasn’t for nothing.
It wasn’t for nothing because the lifeguards and paramedics fulfilled their duties of helping others. These duties are what we train and live for.
This was the first time I’d seen a lifeless body. I had never really confronted the idea of death before. It felt unreal. As I continued thinking about the boy, I realized that the skills I learned from lifesaving could save lives, but could also be unsuccessful. This epiphany was frightening, but it also motivated me to learn as much as I can in order to help as many people as possible.
Prior to this accident I had a naive and limited perspective of the world: children don’t die and lifeguards don’t fail. Even though I witnessed a failed rescue, watching the professionals devote their all for the child inspired me. They helped me see the value of fighting, even when it’s seemingly futile, for every human life because it reflects our dedication to each other and ourselves.
Life’s not a heated indoor pool; it’s an ocean, full of both tranquil water and deadly currents. There’ll be ever-changing tides which we’re required to face and adapt. I’ve learned that there are as many hardships as joys in life. Both need to be acknowledged in order to thrive. I’m trained for both and will stay afloat so that I can throw a rescue tube to those who need it.