"Any time you want to get out, just tap, I will be right here," said Sandy Haines—the rep for OxyHealth (www.oxyhealth.com), a maker of hyperbaric chambers—?before she and I double-zipped and sealed me into the portable Vitaeris model. I had heard of hyperbaric oxygen chambers, associating them only with burn victims and eccentric celebrities, so when the company offered to set one up in our Malibu offices one afternoon, I was curious enough to agree to the demonstration. Though I recruited a few other colleagues to be guinea pigs, I was the first to go in.

The setup was quick and easy: The Vitaeris model comes in its own reasonably sized duffel bag, and is hooked up to an air compressor the size of a small suitcase. During the few moments it took to set it up, Haines took me through the basic concepts of how the chamber works. She told me it was not pure oxygen being pumped in, as I had thought, but rather a controlled compression of filtered air flowing into the chamber. The increase in oxygen pressure causes more oxygen to be dissolved into the blood and cerebrospinal fluid, making the oxygen available for diffusion into body tissue. This by-prescription, FDA-cleared therapy is used to treat a variety of conditions, including multiple sclerosis, strokes, autism, asphyxiation, and sports injuries. A prescribing doctor may, depending on the circumstances, suggest three to five sessions a week; it takes an average of 10 weeks before any measurable results are seen.

Haines recommended that I bring my cell phone and some busywork into the capsule as a sort of security blanket, in case claustrophobia set in. It never did: The interior was roomy, and the little clear-plastic windows let in plenty of light. The air came in with a steady hiss, and the increasing pressure, much like that in an ascending airplane or a descending submarine, soon necessitated my popping my ears a few times. After 5 minutes, I started yawning (a natural reaction I have to compression changes). After 10, the yawning continued, yet now it was the result of an overwhelming sense of relaxation, despite the slightly noxious smell of the medical-grade polyurethane chamber. I put my things aside and rested peacefully for the rest of the session, emerging quite refreshed and intrigued as to the potential good that steady use of the chamber might hold.

I have met few people who believe so passionately in what they represent as Haines, who told me that she would like to see this therapy easily accessible to all who might benefit from it. That’s why I’d like to dedicate this issue on wellness and fitness to those, like Haines, who spend a good deal of their own existence trying to improve and extend the lives of others.