By STACEY COPAS
I remember vividly the day my life changed forever. It was a hot Sunday afternoon in early December 1990 and I was 12 years old. My Dad was going to play indoor cricket and my younger brother and I had a choice of going to watch him play or going to a relative’s place for a swim. Clearly no contest there!
Mum and Dad dropped us off for an afternoon of swimming with our cousins and headed off to the indoor cricket centre. We literally ran straight through the house to the pool, shedding our clothes as we got to the backyard ready to cool off.
Not being content just splashing around with the other younger boys I climbed up on to the edge of the pool – an above ground pool with a narrow colour bond metal type edge on the sides – and dived into the shallow water. That was so much more fun. This didn’t go unnoticed and I got yelled at to stop.
Being 12 years old, bullet proof and invincible these warnings of potential harm went in one ear and out the other. Time after time I climbed up, steadied myself and dove into the cool water. I was unhappy with the way my legs flopped as I dived in so I climbed up on to the ledge once more, determined that this dive was going to be perfect. I focused on keeping my legs together as I dove in and launched myself. It was very strange. I wasn’t aware of anything going wrong but when I tried to swim to the surface like I had done every dive before this one I found that I couldn’t move. I felt no pain but after a few seconds the panic set in.