When I signed up for the Oxygen administration course, I assumed I would be spending the day learning how to administer oxygen - quite a reasonable assumption I thought - how silly! Because everyone in Maldives needed to know how to administer the stuff, with the exception of the DO, who already knew, we arranged with the SAA to do the course in Malvern - sure, everyone will attend, that'll be 20 at least! In the event, there were eight of us! The SAA sent their best two blokes; Steve somebody and Mike Burley. Oh dear, Mike Burley, that can only mean one thing - yep - a Heartstart course! A worse name for a course is hard to imagine! No, you can't start a heart by bashing it 100 times a minute however hard you try, nor can you defibrillate it. The SAA (and others) are finally realising this and admitting to it. It really should be called the CPR course, because that is what it is. Now, everyone on the course was qualified to Club Diver at least, which means we have all done CPR before so really don't need it again. Personally, I have done it three times; as a Club Diver, on a Diver Rescue course and on a First Aid course (two months ago). Nevertheless, we all had a go at it and managed to get it right - big surprise! They give us smart Rescusi-Annies to play with which have flashing lights and tell us how hard it is to get it right, then tell us that getting it right is not so important as actually doing it! On the upside, refreshers on First Aid and CPR can't hurt, can they?

The Morning

The course lectures were divided into two, first Steve would run through something vaguely related to diving, and managing situations, getting us to guess what was on the slides and in what order - frustrating to say the least! He added a liberal sprinkling of anecdotes, some of which were mildly amusing, but most not. I always think that courses could be much shorter and better if the anecdotes were removed - do I really care that he was once a Fireman and managed to damage his foot with a boat trailer - no I do not, and what's more it is not the slightest bit relevant to the course, except that he needed First Aid! Did I tell you about the time I broke a finger nail rock-climbing? No, it is a fascinating story, there I was on Idwal Slabs, pitch 4...blah, blah, blah....just as dull and irrelevant. When Mike took over, he read from notes in a very monotonous way, not pausing or stopping and on completion asked if there were any questions - we were all stunned by the delivery and could not think of a single question. So it went on all morning. Finally, the Oxygen kits were revealed. It seemed the Maldives one was 'different' to the others and came in for a little criticism, especially with the face mask and the fact that it could be strapped to a casualty - fair point, what if he/she vomits into the mask - choking could ensue. At last, something useful! But, we argued, what if the casualty is unconscious, he can't hold the mask on and we may need to do something else. Inconclusive arguments ensued. We all had a go at assembling the kit, which took about 5 minutes, then it was back to more lectures.

The Afternoon

Finally, lunchtime arrived. We all sat in the sun, making every effort to avoid staring at the sixth form girls that had decided to sunbathe right in front of us, most failed, revision was impossible! After lunch, we were told, it would be the exam. This is a written exam, not multiple choice, but the majority of the answers were one or two words. Of course, no exam worth its salt could avoid asking for the three types of barotrauma (having already pointed out to us that the treatment is the same!), nor could we avoid the perennial question of the percentages of Oxygen and Nitrogen in the atmosphere - doh! So it went on for 25 questions. Some were vaguely relevant, most weren't. So now I can confidently tell the paramedics that my dive buddy has Interstital Emphysema as opposed to Pneumothorax, who, of course, will recommend 100% O2 to be administered - great!

After the exam was over - everyone passed with scores ranging from 92% to 100% (which shows how superficial the course is!), we had a go at CPR and finally, we got to administer some oxygen during the final 10 minutes of the course.

The Conclusion

So, did I learn anything? Not really. Do I feel a more capable diver? Not really. Do I feel capable of diagnosing a diving injury? Well, no more than I did before. At the end, we were asked if there were any comments. Of course, I am not one to be quiet so questioned why it was that the administration of oxygen was such a small part of the course and that I still did not really know the flow rate to set. In response, the lecturers agreed and said "Most don't have any way of regulating flow" Ours does! Put it on 16 litres per minute. But we breathe 25 litres per minute at the surface! Yes, but the mask has a hole in it for the other 10 litres. So we are not administering 100% oxygen then? The conversation faded....

Why would you use constant flow as opposed to a demand? I thought I knew the answer (to aid a diver with a severe barotrauma who is having trouble breathing), but now I'm not so sure. I would have thought that I should be more certain, not less. In conclusion, £20 is not much to pay for a course, but even so, I do not feel I gained anything from the course that I could not have got in a 5 minute chat and demonstration in the pub with the DO. As a club, the duty of care insists we do this before we can take the kit. I will now take the kit whenever I feel it is necessary, but I seriously doubt I am any wiser or more qualified to use it. In fact, the overriding comment from the instructors was that "You can't do any harm from administering 100% O2, so if in doubt, do it". I knew that, so why bother to be 'trained'. One quote I heard was 'I came along expecting to learn nothing, and wasn't disappointed'. >Would I recommend it? No.

Would I do it again? No

Marks out of ten? About O2.