How A Lifeguard Almost Lost His Life

On the same day, and at the same spot, that Newport Beach Lifeguards lost one of their own, Ben Carlson, they saved one of the oldest guards in Orange County.

by Laylan Connelly, Orange County Register.

Photo credit: Ana Venegas

The records show that Scott Underhill spent Fourth of July much as he has spent the holiday for 40 years – working his summer job as a lifeguard along Huntington State Beach.

But Underhill can’t remember that.

Nor can he remember the big swell that hit Orange County that weekend, or going down to the Wedge on July 6 to watch the waves and take video with his phone, his voice in the background saying “look at the power of God.”

He can’t remember the wave he took off on at 15th Street in Newport later that day or hitting bottom with his chin, where a scar remains.

He doesn’t know how his vertebra broke in two places, dangerously close to his spinal cord.

He can’t recall the moment he died at the beach, where he’s been on the other side of so many rescues. Or how his lifeless body, underwater, happened to graze lifeguard Trenton Gallegos, who was out bodysurfing while on break.

The 40-year California State Lifeguard this week got to meet some of the first responders responsible for saving his life in Newport Beach that day, just 15 minutes before (and in the spot where) Newport Beach lifeguard Ben Carlson lost his life while trying to rescue a swimmer stuck in a strong rip current.

Underhill has two questions that he just can’t answer:

“Why not me? And why him?”

“I’m 58. I’ve had a pretty good run. Ben was 30-something,” Underhill said.

“We don’t understand what God’s ways are. It doesn’t really seem fair.”

LOVE FOR LIFEGUARDING

Underhill was 17 when a friend talked him into trying out for a lifeguard job at San Clemente City Beach.

The competitive swimmer and water polo player had surfed since he was 12, and he still remembers the chill of the 52-degree water back in 1974.

He got the job, which paid a whopping $3.06 an hour. He and a few buddies rented an apartment for $200 a month.

He switched over to San Clemente State Lifeguards a few years later, and in 1982 transferred to Huntington State Beach, where he’s been every summer since.

Over the years he’d hold various off-season jobs – everything from salesman to pharmaceuticals. But one thing would stay the same: His commitment to saving other people.

“Lifeguarding has been my passion. I’ve found a way to make it happen, to stay on the beach.”

Each year, he’d show up to the re-qualification test, put on his Speedo and compete for a spot as a seasonal guard. Each year, the age difference between Underhill and the recruits widened.

Despite having to go up against guys he remembers from his son’s Boy Scout days, he’s always been able to earn back his spot each year.

JOHN DOE

Sylvia Underhill remembers looking at her watch, wondering where her husband was. He was late for dinner.

Maybe he fell asleep on someone’s couch.

She left messages on his phone: “Please let me know you’re OK, or else I’m putting in a missing person report.”

No call.

In the morning, she started with the police stations and hospitals.

When she reached Hoag Hospital in Newport, they had a person with no ID, a John Doe, brought in the day before from the beach. But the guy was so banged up they couldn’t give her a description. The police called back asking her if she could come identify the man in a coma, wrapped in bandages and on a breathing machine to stay alive.

She thought “Please, as awful as it sounds, please let it be him. Otherwise I wouldn’t know where he was.”

The only part of his face not covered in bandage was his nose, and from what she could tell, it could be her husband’s. And his feet, those rough surfer feet. Those were definitely his.

It was about eight days before he woke up from the coma. He was able to wiggle his feet and hands on command, ruling out paralysis. The breaks in his vertebra hadn’t severed his spinal cord.

Then there was weeks in the ICU, where doctors made sure Underhill didn’t suffer from brain damage. He was allowed to return home in late August.

Lifeguards from up and down the coast started calling, people Underhill hadn’t heard from in decades. A fundraising effort online has generated more than $6,000 to help the family with medical bills.

He still walks with a cane and is doing intensive therapy. He asked his physical therapist recently when he can get back into the water.

If he can swim by December, he thinks he can make the March re-qualification lifeguard test. Maybe he’ll get another summer on the sand.

“God willing, I’d love to be able to do it if I’m able.”

MOMENT OF HEALING

Underhill walked last week with Sylvia and his son, David, 23, into the Newport lifeguard headquarters, a metal halo screwed into his skull. He was greeted by nearly a dozen rescuers, all happy to see him alive.

“You look a lot better,” said Newport Beach paramedic Bryan Carter, who helped race Underhill to the hospital.

The rescuers tried to piece together the voids in Underhill’s mind.

Underhill stopped that day and introduced himself to the guard at Tower 15. That guard called the next tower over to let them know there was a state guard in the water and to keep eyes on him.

“Did I have fins on? Did I at least catch a good wave?” asked Underhill, peppering them with questions.

Perhaps it was chance; maybe a miracle. But, somehow, Underhill’s lifeless body – which disappeared in the sloshing whitewash caused by the monster surf of July 6 – was swept directly toward fellow guard Trenton Gallegos as he bodysurfed a wave.

Gallegos pulled Underhill to the surface and onto the beach. Gallegos – who couldn’t make it to the reunion – immediately started doing CPR after not hearing a heartbeat or breathing. Underhill was dead.

Lifeguard Evan Kikana was second on the scene and took over compressions. A still-unknown ER doctor happened to be nearby and helped instruct lifeguards. Other lifeguards quickly arrived to help.

“I’ve never seen a dead person before, and when I pulled up I was like ‘This guy is dead,’” Kikana told Underhill. “Your eyes were rolled back in your head. You were so white.”

Then, Underhill started breathing again.

“So, I was fighting to stay alive?” Underhill asked.

They suctioned sand and water and gunk out of Underhill’s lungs. Foam came out of his mouth.

“It was literally the last moments I feel that could have got you back,” Kikana said.

Carter arrived in an ambulance shortly after, one of 40 or 50 calls the paramedics responded to that day.

“This instance, it happened like it does on TV. That’s pretty rare … It never works that way,” Carter said. “Everything worked the way it was supposed to.”

Then, as Underhill was being raced to the hospital, the lifeguards were summoned to their next call: One of their own, Ben Carlson, was missing after trying to rescue a swimmer.

During the reunion with Underhill, the conversation somberly drifted to the loss of Carlson, Underhill inquiring about the guard, knowing the young man who lost his life was one of his own kind.

For the lifeguards who saved Underhill, meeting a fellow lifeguard they were able to save is a bright light on the darkest day for their department.

“It was such an emotional day, that Sunday,” said Newport Beach Marine Safety Chief Rob Williams.

“And this gave us some healing.”

Originally posted on Orange County Register. Click here to read the whole article!