 |
| Luke! Not as twisted or pretty as Kara Thrace (Starbuck), but flying something just as cool. |
Dad was in the Air Force, so I saw him in a flight suit for most of my childhood. I put the two together and figured that, by the time I was in my 20's, I would be commissioned and flying something that went out into the galaxy. (I also dreamed I would also be living in a cool apartment on a hill overlooking the California Coast. I acquired the last 2 goals 2 years ago. 2 for 3, baby. Not too bad.)
Fast forward a few decades, (3 to be exact) and I am trying to attain a portion of that goal. My age and job kept me from flying A-10's or SR-71s, but I am still able to shoot for a job as part of the crew in an Air Force aircraft. I am Combat Camera. I will be expected to fly in anything. The flying combat camera personnel are trained as aircrew. If the pilots and engineers are trained in something, we train in that, too.
That's where I am now. Training.
There's a catch, though. At 42, I am continually the oldest person in my classes. However, I am also surrounded by handsome, intelligent men in flight suits, which does a great job of distracting me from the fact that I am not as strong physically as the rest of these kids. I'm a woman, so my upper body is puny. My lung capacity is smaller. The same pack on a big guy is twice as heavy to me, yet I have to carry it just as fast and far.
I can usually handle this difference in workload. As a single, working mom I am used to carrying twice the workload while the guys next to me whine like little babies. Military training is a bit different, though. The physical component is brutal to my small frame, and I really have to use my brain to accelerate my physical recovery. (I do this by meditating when I can, and doing deep breathing.)
So far, I have done alright. One more rigorous training to go and I will have this goal within my grasp. I am nervous, but I feel I have just the right balance of respect, stubborn pride, and chutzpah to pull it off. Right now, though, I think that I have completed the training bear that I feared the most - underwater egress training.
IN 1992 I almost drowned.
 |
| Some brave soul kayaking the Umpqua. Beautiful river, some tricky, dangerous places. |
Flipped upside down in a kayak and got stuck in a strong eddy. I panicked, took in two gulps of water and saw that I was going to die. I saw the world get dim and quiet. The thing that kept me from drowning was the idea that I would leave my mother with my funeral and I couldn't do that. I seemed to shut off at that point and pulled myself free in a kind of dream. I was somewhat transformed at that point. White wizard. I never took small things for granted. I remember clearly taking a shower and marveling at the sun shining through the water dripping from my hands. Life was much more precious. I have never had trouble swimming or going underwater since then, but I have always feared drowning. That is why this training I finished a couple of days ago was such a huge test for me. I had to revisit that memory and re-conquer that fear.
The class was very typical at first. I had to prove I could swim and did so by the skin of my teeth. I'm a good swimmer, but being nervous about what was about to happen made my lungs less than cooperative. I pushed through the urge to surface and made it through that first hurdle. The next hurdle was harder. Without going into too much detail, I was required to be upside down, supress the urge to freak out, and breathe calmly with an apparatus. This activity uncovered my memory of drowning. I breathed in water again. I could feel it in my lungs again. And then I had to breathe with this odd thing in my mouth, an equally eerie sensation. I did panic a bit. I know I did. I could feel my body convulse and I was forcefully yelling at myself in my mind, "Control! Control!"
Ugh. I had to beat this beast. I wasn't going to let this stupid fear keep me from what I wanted. So I tried it again. Better. Better seal. Better understanding of what I was doing. Better control. My instructor said, "Focus on the breathing. In. Out." My zen master in a bathing suit, this guy was. I actually forced myself to focus on the breathing. It worked. I did it. Thanks to a very clever and patient instructor and my stubborn will, that did it.
That small victory carried me to the next task. This was bigger. Underwater and strapped into a ...thing. What a few minutes of pure suck. I embraced it. Embraced the suck. And I did it.
 |
| Looks like fun, huh. |
Final hurdle - underwater, without an apparatus, strapped inside a fake helicopter, and I had to find my way out without seeing anything.
 |
| Becoming one with the suck. |
What a nightmare. And I did it. I friggin' did it. First time. No re-do, baby.
By the time I was done with the class, I was actually having fun and totally on autopilot. No panic. Textbook egresses. Holy friggin' cow.
I came back to the administration desk, grabbed my certificate, and stared at it for a minute. I think it took a while to sink in. I came back to my room, took a nice hot shower and spent the next two days dealing with sore lungs and chlorine-burned sinuses.
So. On to the next painful training. I will no doubt be changed by this next episode, as well. I think I will be on dry land for most of it, though.
