Wow... What a ride for a read, never mind the real boat ride. Thank you for sharing this. It explains a lot of certain comments you've made on the podcast. LOVE YOU!!
[In light of the times we are living in, please understand that this is an honest, thoughtful query that in no way at all is a criticism of the choices made. I’m just baffled and would
Iike to understand your decision making process.]
I wonder if you could articulate the reasoning behind your choice not to be MedEvaced (sp?) back to the States despite the fact that you said you should have been. You spoke of the importance of the trip and students but it seems so life and death at this point. In addition to the fact that I would be way too cowardly to stay, and would want to get my hands on some pain meds asap, it seems, based on the description, that your injuries could well be so debilitating that you would in fact never be able to be available to your students or family if you did not get to the best possible medical care as quickly as possible. Can you elaborate on the factors that brought you to your decision to stay. Thanks
Thank you for the thoughtful comment. It deserves a lengthy reply, but here are five reasons off the top of my head:
1. The good Dr. Estafania assured me that I would live, and I was compelled that, while I might well need further medical intervention, I was not in immediate need of it.
2. I did have some pain meds, as I had required that we and all of our students have with us/them a sufficient first aid kit to triage injury. So while the medical clinic could offer none, I did not go without.
3. MedEvac is a gigantic logistical and financial pain in the ass, or so I understand, even with the "right" insurance (which we had, and again, had required students to have as well). Knowing that I would survive, and that we would be home very soon (and we did go straight to urgent care when we landed), adding what might amount to endless insurance hassles to my extensive injuries seemed like too much.
4. I had planned this trip for so long, and cared so much for these students, and the experience I had created for and with them, that I truly did not want to lose the end of it. As it turned out, conversations with the students who were with me on the boat proved even more important than I would have predicted. It helped us all begin to make sense of what we had experienced, and to move forward.
5. I am stubborn. I considered all of the factors above and, once I knew that I was not in imminent danger, I was staying.
"I am not allowed to die". And you didn't, thank God!
I recently discovered you and Bret, appreciate you both!
I had a horrific bizarre experience years ago in Venezuela, repeated: "I'm not going to die". Everything moves in slow motion in your brain. Once heard Michio Kaku explain it, "Deep within our brains, we all have a mechanism that fires cells in a pattern of beats which synchronizes our bodies, a biological mechanism that we apparently share with every other terrestrial life-form.
But this steady rhythm can be altered: the production of adrenalin in moments of acute stress slows down our body time so that the perception of, say, a serious accident as happening in slow motion is in fact exactly what happens".
Thank you for sharing your experience. That was so powerful, and beautifully written. I'd be lying if I said I stayed dry- eyed while reading it! As a mom, a nurturer, and as someone who has worked with kids my entire adult life, I literally FELT it when you said "I'm not allowed to die." Wow.
Your graphic account of this incident is mesmerizing. I spent 10 days touring the Galapagos in 1980 in a charter boat that held 8 passengers and 3 crew. I could easily visualize what you describe. It must have been terrifying. I'm so glad you survived with your mind intact and hope you eventually are fully recovered. Thanks for writing so well about this amazing and dangerous experience!
Unbelievable. I'm so glad you and the others made it out. And yet, even with this accident in your catalog of experiences, you still preach to take risks and to put yourself out in the world. Thank you, and Bret, for the wealth of knowledge and experience that you share to the public.
I came over here to read the story of the boat accident referenced in your 3/22/22 article. Harrowing. I listen to Bret and you religiously every week on the Dark Horse pod. The accident has been referenced by you several times. Now I know precisely what you went through. From the 3/22/22 article, "But throughout it all I knew some things for sure: I was utterly wrecked. And I did not accept that as my fate. I would not be wrecked for life. Just as I had refused death while trapped under a boat in the Galápagos, I refused a permanently physically curtailed life now. Among many other things that I did in my acts of refusal, I walked. I walked and I walked and I walked. When I went into some of my many appointments, I was told that walking might be forever out of my reach, or at least forever difficult, or forever curtailed. But I pushed the limits of what I could do, and asked nobody’s permission but my own. If I had accepted the prognoses I received then, I might not be walking now." You're an inspiration!!
Thrilled that you and everyone survived. Thank you and Bret for your fearless and tireless quest for freedom and truth. You are both heroes.
Wow... What a ride for a read, never mind the real boat ride. Thank you for sharing this. It explains a lot of certain comments you've made on the podcast. LOVE YOU!!
What a harrowing account! Glad you made it!
[In light of the times we are living in, please understand that this is an honest, thoughtful query that in no way at all is a criticism of the choices made. I’m just baffled and would
Iike to understand your decision making process.]
I wonder if you could articulate the reasoning behind your choice not to be MedEvaced (sp?) back to the States despite the fact that you said you should have been. You spoke of the importance of the trip and students but it seems so life and death at this point. In addition to the fact that I would be way too cowardly to stay, and would want to get my hands on some pain meds asap, it seems, based on the description, that your injuries could well be so debilitating that you would in fact never be able to be available to your students or family if you did not get to the best possible medical care as quickly as possible. Can you elaborate on the factors that brought you to your decision to stay. Thanks
Thank you for the thoughtful comment. It deserves a lengthy reply, but here are five reasons off the top of my head:
1. The good Dr. Estafania assured me that I would live, and I was compelled that, while I might well need further medical intervention, I was not in immediate need of it.
2. I did have some pain meds, as I had required that we and all of our students have with us/them a sufficient first aid kit to triage injury. So while the medical clinic could offer none, I did not go without.
3. MedEvac is a gigantic logistical and financial pain in the ass, or so I understand, even with the "right" insurance (which we had, and again, had required students to have as well). Knowing that I would survive, and that we would be home very soon (and we did go straight to urgent care when we landed), adding what might amount to endless insurance hassles to my extensive injuries seemed like too much.
4. I had planned this trip for so long, and cared so much for these students, and the experience I had created for and with them, that I truly did not want to lose the end of it. As it turned out, conversations with the students who were with me on the boat proved even more important than I would have predicted. It helped us all begin to make sense of what we had experienced, and to move forward.
5. I am stubborn. I considered all of the factors above and, once I knew that I was not in imminent danger, I was staying.
"I am not allowed to die". And you didn't, thank God!
I recently discovered you and Bret, appreciate you both!
I had a horrific bizarre experience years ago in Venezuela, repeated: "I'm not going to die". Everything moves in slow motion in your brain. Once heard Michio Kaku explain it, "Deep within our brains, we all have a mechanism that fires cells in a pattern of beats which synchronizes our bodies, a biological mechanism that we apparently share with every other terrestrial life-form.
But this steady rhythm can be altered: the production of adrenalin in moments of acute stress slows down our body time so that the perception of, say, a serious accident as happening in slow motion is in fact exactly what happens".
2Nov 2006 https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2006/3-march/news/uk/time-does-go-slow
"...'tis but a scratch..."
Thank you for sharing your experience. That was so powerful, and beautifully written. I'd be lying if I said I stayed dry- eyed while reading it! As a mom, a nurturer, and as someone who has worked with kids my entire adult life, I literally FELT it when you said "I'm not allowed to die." Wow.
I'm so so glad you all survived!
Your graphic account of this incident is mesmerizing. I spent 10 days touring the Galapagos in 1980 in a charter boat that held 8 passengers and 3 crew. I could easily visualize what you describe. It must have been terrifying. I'm so glad you survived with your mind intact and hope you eventually are fully recovered. Thanks for writing so well about this amazing and dangerous experience!
Unbelievable. I'm so glad you and the others made it out. And yet, even with this accident in your catalog of experiences, you still preach to take risks and to put yourself out in the world. Thank you, and Bret, for the wealth of knowledge and experience that you share to the public.
You are a truly amazing woman Heather. And teacher. Wife. Mother. Writer. Explorer. And alive!
Always great stuff, thanks.
OMG!!! Glad everyone made it out! Thanks for sharing!
I came over here to read the story of the boat accident referenced in your 3/22/22 article. Harrowing. I listen to Bret and you religiously every week on the Dark Horse pod. The accident has been referenced by you several times. Now I know precisely what you went through. From the 3/22/22 article, "But throughout it all I knew some things for sure: I was utterly wrecked. And I did not accept that as my fate. I would not be wrecked for life. Just as I had refused death while trapped under a boat in the Galápagos, I refused a permanently physically curtailed life now. Among many other things that I did in my acts of refusal, I walked. I walked and I walked and I walked. When I went into some of my many appointments, I was told that walking might be forever out of my reach, or at least forever difficult, or forever curtailed. But I pushed the limits of what I could do, and asked nobody’s permission but my own. If I had accepted the prognoses I received then, I might not be walking now." You're an inspiration!!
I almost drowned in Jamaica and now have nothing but respect for the ocean and how easily it can take one down.