A reader writes:
I had mostly been ignoring this thread, but the previous post got me. I am in the unfortunately position of having survived a drowning incident while one of the people who came to rescue me didn't make it. In this case it wasn't a stranger, but a friend of mine. I was 14 and leading a group of friends across a river in Northern California. I got stuck in a current draining a pool and reached out my hand to my friends for help. I really don't think they understood the danger at all, but did the natural thing trying to help their friend. Three of them got pulled in also. One got pulled under and emerged in the next pool okay. One's head I was able to hold above water until a stranger did come and help us and pulled her out. And a third got stuck up against a log under the water.
Luckily I have never felt guilt for the death of my friend. Because I know it was just something that happened and I would have done the same for her. I have no idea if I would feel differently had it been a stranger who died trying to help me.
The stranger in this case was unable to help me out. My head was above water, but I was stuck. After the second friend was saved (at this point I didn't know about the others), I just gave up fighting. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I just let go of caring. And then I had this amazing experience. From somewhere I got this burst of energy and determination and I was able to climb up the side of a rock face. To this day I don't know if it was internal, some other power, or if it came from my friend dying beside me – whether in fact her last act was to save me.
After I was out, I saw the first friend crying hysterically downstream and learned that the third friend was stuck under the water. Both the stranger and I went around to try to get her out. I could see her and put my hands on her body, but could not dislodge her. The (slightly drunk) stranger at this point started praying for God's help. To which my 14-year-old self responded by cussing at him that God wasn't going to help us; he had better do something. But there was nothing to be done. It took the fire department to get her body out.
It has been 18 years, and sometimes I wonder about that stranger and feel bad that I never did thank him. I doubt he reads your blog, but for the first time publicly, "You did the best you could in the situation and we were lucky that you were there. Sorry I unloaded on you. Thanks."
The Dish 