Virgin Gorda, other’s misfortune and me

A woman before the dive on which she miscarried

Others misfortune and me: Having recently found that I’m descended from ancient British roots on both sides of my family I think that my genetic heritage may explain why I have the cravings for thrills and risk taking I do. For more about that see my January 9, 2012 post: The Winter Solstice and other Holidays.

Some time ago a good friend and faithful reader asked why I crave taking risks for thrills and write about violence, death and tragedy. It’s taken me a while to think about that and until recently I wasn’t sure I had an answer. My therapist (unaware of my family history until recently) thought I had a death wish because I seem to gravitate to the most extreme sexual encounters involving breathplay while wearing a gasmask and rebreather bag or during dive-sex or some other bizarre sexual encounter to get my thrills and he’s still not entirely convinced otherwise.

By wearing pointe shoes as standard footwear (a fairly harmless kink) while at work as my ballet companies AD and choreographer or in the boardroom of the company I own and even while shopping I’m not only able to enjoy my pointe-shoe fetish in public, but have developed a public persona that projects my artistic ability. While within the business community my rivals who thought the ‘cunt in toe-shoes’ would be a pushover discovered how wrong they were when I handed them their asses in one business deal after another when the real-estate and casino bubble burst here four years ago.

My shrink still thinks my fetish for wearing ‘death rubber’ (which I’ve managed to collect from the bodies of women who died during sexual encounters) reflects my need to make up for the loss of my mother when I was a child. He sees my belief that the dead owner’s Chi (which still inhabits such an intimate rubber device) provides me with her spiritual protection when I insert it in my vagina, as a psychological coping device which calms my fears and gives me confidence in my ability to get through dangerous situations safely. I think there is far more to it than that since wearing death rubber seemingly has protected me from serious injury in difficult situations since I began wearing it about five years ago. I’ve been tested by endocrinologists for chemical imbalances and every test has been within ‘normal’ limits so I’m thinking my craving for danger is hereditary and I’m sensitive to the ancient beliefs that every item has certain powers that can be used by sensitives to advance their own devices and desires.

In Vegas I seem to have been passed over for the contract to tidy up after most of the Organization’s periodic efforts to discourage others from encroaching on the profitable portions of their diversified businesses. Or, perhaps they are just using more stealth and guile rather than blunt force. That’s not as much of a loss as it might first appear as I have become so busy with other projects that Organizational clean-up was becoming a problem for me. But I’m still being called when the cleanup involves women so my access to a primary source of death rubber is still in tact which I’m relieved to know.

The dangers of diving while pregnant: The men with us in the Caribbean were Chris (with Cyndi), Chuck, who is our Gyn (with Anya) and Jack (Lord John) with me. I try never to travel w/o a Gyn since we are all so sexually active especially since Chuck saved Cyndi’s life. It was nearly three years ago when Cyndi had her miscarriage while diving the cove with Chris who was then her bodyguard and lover, when she was almost 15. Long time readers may remember my writing about it at the time in my blog entry on Yahoo 360 for January 12, 2009. She was on the pill and hadn’t realized she was pregnant and while in the pit she began to cramp and hemorrhage as she miscarried. Fortunately Chris got her to the surface as we were entering the cove and Chuck was able to stop the bleeding and administer antibiotics until she could be seen by her family’s doctor who was flown in by RAF fighter jet from the UK.

This time we had The Wanton Lass IV, His Graces sailboat, that’s docked at Spanish Town meet us at Charlotte Amalie on St Thomas where we landed ‘Limnaea’, my G550, at Cyril E. King (STT) with its 7,000 ft runway, and take us around to the north side of Virgin Gorda where we anchored it in the cove as a diving platform. The next morning (after ballet class for the women) we took the Lass’s zodiac out to the yacht disappointed that another boat had come in to ‘my’ cove after dark and anchored for the night. The young couple was already in dive gear as we arrived and after a brief hello they began diving the cove as we boarded the Wanton Lass. Most of the cove bottom is sand at a depth of 60 feet after a steep drop-off from the beach except for the south western end which drops off to 100 -120 feet and has the aquifer emptying into the pit which reduces the salinity of the water there and the current has cut a deep channel that leads out of the cove to the edge of the shelf and empties into much deeper water.

After we put on our dive gear we entered the water and as we began our descent we could see the woman was in trouble and her partner was trying to get her out of the pit, but they were caught in the current. Neither of them was wearing a buoyancy compensator and were over weighted for the fresh water they found themselves in. By the time Chuck, Chris and I got to them the man had dropped his weight belt and was struggling to keep the reg in the woman’s mouth while trying to unfasten her weight belt as they were being swept into the channel and out to sea. Chris helped the man while Chuck, Jack and I grabbed the woman and we all inflated out vests to rise out of the channel so we could swim out of the current. Once we were out of the current we ascended to the surface and had the zodiac come and pick us up. We took the couple aboard the Lass and stripped off the woman’s wetsuit. She had water in her lungs but managed to get most of it out while cramping severely and passing fetal tissue.

Once she had passed the fetus and got her lungs cleared she said she had no idea she had been pregnant. From the size of the fetus it was about two or three months old. She was on Lybrel and had been taking diet pills that speeded up her metabolism which flushed the contraceptive hormones out of her body so quickly that the amount of hormones in Lybrel weren’t able to prevent her from ovulating. Chuck cleaned her up, made sure she wasn’t bleeding and gave her a five day supply of a powerful antibiotic and said she should see a doctor at a OB/Gyn clinic in Road Town on Tortola about a half days sail away to see if she needed a D&C. The couple had rented their boat at Road Town so they knew the way and began their return immediately.