Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [67]
Lab assistants, computer experts, and the man in charge of the lab’s technical equipment were wheeling equipment in on dollies. Printers were buzzing, the tank was gurgling, and Dr. Reyburn and Dr. Borjia were on the phone with their colleagues at Cottage Hospital, alerting them to the experiment and asking them to be prepared if there was an emergency. This, they assured me, was just to make sure that nothing got out of hand.
A lab assistant wheeled a dolly to the doorway and left it outside the room.
“Anne, are those defibrillating paddles?” I asked.
She nodded. “We’re placing them within reach of the tank in case your heart stops during the experiment. We won’t need them unless something really goes wrong,” she reassured me.
“Why aren’t they placed closer to the tank?” I asked, feeling a little apprehensive.
“We don’t want them too close to the tank. The defibrillator could accidentally discharge while you’re in the water and electrocute you. If we need to use them, we have to make sure you’re clear of the tank.”
“If that happens, I’m going to be deadweight,” I said, starting to worry.
Dr. McCafferty, who overheard our conversation, ripped his lab coat open like Superman and said, “That’s why I’m wearing a wet suit, so I can jump into the water and pull you out if I need to.” Dr. McCafferty was a tall, strawberry-blond, blue-eyed, fit surfer boy and a vegetarian. In a short time, he had become one of my best friends and supporters. He had also become a mentor to me, teaching me about human physiology, as well as life philosophy. He looked at what we were doing as a great adventure, an exploration into the limits of human endurance, and he was just really a great guy.
Dr. McCafferty explained that he would be getting into the tank with me. He would tie a rope around my waist like a surfboard leash in case they needed to drag me out of the water. They would also have me wear an army belt that would have a long piece of surgical cord attached to the belt and to the tank wall, so that I could swim tethered.
The water in the tank was radiating so much cold that some of the technicians had to leave to get coats and sweaters. Dr. Drinkwater handed me a nose plug and asked me to put it on so that I could get used to breathing through my mouth. As I started climbing down a ladder into the tank, Dr. McCafferty handed me a mouthpiece that resembled a diver’s regulator. He instructed me to clamp down on the mouthpiece with my teeth. The mouthpiece was connected to two long plastic tubes, devices that would allow them to capture gases during the experiment to measure my oxygen intake, which would enable them to see how hard my body was working.
Dr. McCafferty gathered some of the leads while Anne took the remaining ones, and they plugged them into their respective monitoring devices.
Dr. McCafferty asked me how long I intended to swim. I told him an hour, and he raised an eyebrow. He said that since this was the first time anyone he knew of would be swimming in forty-two-degree water, perhaps it would be wise to reconsider. He said that in a wet suit, before the experiment, when he was setting up the devices in the tank, he had only been able to stay in the water for five minutes. I told him I understood, but I really wanted to see how far I could go in the controlled setting.
Dr. Drinkwater completely understood, although she cautioned me. She said if I started feeling very cold in the water, I should get out. I promised her that I would.
The noise in the room had dulled to a low-pitched buzz. The doctors and lab techs went to their stations. My heart began beating faster.
The tank was about half the size of a backyard swimming pool and that, coupled with the surgical-tubing leash, wouldn’t allow for much movement. I looked around the room. Dr. Horvath was just entering the lab; he asked some questions, checked the equipment, and made