Saving A Life, 101

Have you ever truly saved someone's life? They probably brushed it off, didn’t they? — got up and walked away as if nothing happened? Maybe they were even a bit ungrateful, after the fact? Imagine that, an accident which could have easily altered the trajectory of one's entire life — dismissed! They might as well have a ‘do not resuscitate tattoo’ imprint somewhere on their person, no?

Assuming that you’re not a doctor or first responder who has saved countless lives, rescuing a life can be rather traumatic. And perhaps you’re really only given the opportunity once or twice, in a lifetime, to save a life — so what is it like? You might want to know, after all. I mean, do you feel like a better person for saving this particular person, in all seriousness?

Maybe years have gone by since the event, and you never really thought about sharing it until now. Perhaps you kept it bottled up out of discretion. Suppose, however, that it was memorable enough (how could it not?) that you’re ready to share exactly ‘how’ you saved this life, because this person has since moved away — a different country or a language altogether — and you don’t keep in touch anymore, so it wouldn't otherwise make a difference.

Of course, it has made a difference, for this person still lives! So, here is to another story… of one life saved.

Over a decade ago, now, I went out with a friend, sailing — a rather spontaneous trip out to the lake. I had just finished reading a book on sailing, ironically. Such is the force of the keener within me that I went about reading and self-teaching myself the ‘art’ rather than paying out of pocket for any physical lessons, as you might otherwise have come to suspect.

The weather was rather agreeable on this day, with some moderate wind expected in the afternoon to help fill the sails. So you see, nothing out of the ordinary. From the boat launch and docking area, we had taken an inflatable across the water, out to my moored boat, and drew the anchor in shortly thereafter. The motor started up just fine and we ran it until we had weaved past the other tied-up boats in the marina and were in unobstructed waters.

From here, it wasn’t long after we had cleared the marina entirely and had rounded a prominent corner beyond the dock with a distinct cliff-face. And here in this spot the boat ladder — loosely attached at the transom — suddenly dislodged from the rear starboard side. It began to float off as a result of the waves, almost imperceptibly. I had barely noticed it myself as I was atop the cabin near the halyard, when the friend shouted from the stern — "Hey! The ladder!"

And without even thinking things through, he dove headlong into the ice-cold water to go after it. Such was his instinct — without a safety vest or anything! — I thought I had warned him about the cold water prior. He was an engineer, what can you do?

At any rate, had I failed to act with precision at this very moment, my friend surely would’ve drowned. He was not a strong swimmer, and the water was glacier fed. And so, with a steady hand and a level head, I turned the boat, slowly, making half of a figure eight loop with the help of the rudder; and having succeeded in this task, I landed not far from his side. At which point I could hear through his chattering teeth, urging me to speed up for he was losing the ability to keep treading in the fridged water, just as I had imagined. Acting with a bit of foresight, I cut the engine as I was drawing near to make sure I didn’t overshoot him. And when I had drifted in proximity, I threw the lifesaver over, and he pulled himself in.

Now, it goes without saying that the situation could have been a lot more dire had I missed the mark and had to sweep around again in the boat for another go. Thankfully, that was not the case, and the remainder of the day was more enjoyable... and less eventful. A ship is safe in harbour, so the saying goes, but don’t forget to choose your crew wisely.