I’ve been a long time reader of the Dish, but this is the first time I’ve emailed you. When I was about 16 years old, my family and I took a vacation down to the Texas coast.  I was fishing on the end of a jetty with my father, when we saw a younger kid bobbing in the waves about 20 yards out.  The jetties are extremely dangerous to swim around and he was waving his arms, so it was immediately obvious that he was in trouble and drowning.  As soon as we registered the severity of what was happening, we both ran to the end of the jetty and climbed down into the water. 

However, the surf was incredibly rough that day, and each time we would shove off, a wave would smash us back into the rocks.  These jetties are made of giant boulders of granite, and are covered in razor sharp barnacles.  Our feet and hands were covered in deep cuts from these rocks and we were both bleeding heavily - we watched in desperation as the kid bobbed up and down, taking longer and longer to come back up until eventually he disappeared beneath the waves.