I stood shoulder to shoulder with passengers in solemn silence. I watched and prayed as the chopper bounced on air currents, swayed left and right. Unable to hover, the pilot had to circle the ship time and again.
I prayed, "Lord, you command the winds and seas, please help this rescue mission, and if it's thy will be done, allow this person to survive."
After many attempts, the ship's captain cut the engines and steered the ship as close as possible under the hovering chopper. Medical personnel dangled from a cable and made their way on board. Minutes ticked endlessly, and then a stretcher was lowered. Finally, the patient and medical team were airlifted. Out of respect, I did not photograph that part.
As the chopper zoomed off, a collective sigh, cheers, and rousing applause rang out. The doctor leaned out of the chopper and gave a thumbs up.
Even though I look elated to be on the beach, days later I was still concerned for the patient and family. The images and incident haunted me. I can only imagine how those with PTSD suffer from flashbacks.
My honey looks pensive as our cruise comes to a close. We enjoy gazing into the ruffled tail spray at the back of the ship.
Sun rises on the horizon streaming brilliant streaks of sunshine on the Caribbean turquoise blue (which you cannot see here)... and the promise of a new day.
Make the most of yours! Nobody is promised tomorrow.