Seasickness

The day before heading out on Sea Tryst, I began to feel an ever-so-slight itch in the back of my throat. An ominous itch. An itch that would later turn into an infection. Great.

The next morning as we set to leave for New York, I woke up with a sore throat for the record books; I must have swallowed a porcupine. Not without a full body wince could I swallow, and eating was near impossible sans morphine. Great.

We motored through the channel towards the ocean and as I stood on the bow I began to feel queasy.
"We haven't even hit the seas yet!" I thought as I cursed bacteria's name verbally. On Sly Dog, I felt an uneasy stomach at the worst; sailors might say that I was 'stomach aware.' However, in completely calm seas, on Sea Tryst, I could feel seasickness coming on.

If you are about to eat a meal, or have just eaten, you may want to skip the next few paragraphs.

I was swallowing lots of mucus from the sore throat and as the pressure built in my sinuses, the problems evolved in my stomach. What might be described as an upset stomach turned into what might be described as a 'very aware' stomach. So aware, in fact, that it decided I should throw up - with gusto. The dry heaves kicked in for awhile afterwards. While I convulsed I enjoyed an up close view of the ocean, my eyes watering into the sea.

Being seasick is truly an awful feeling. On deck, it is tolerable as a severe stomach ache; there is very much difficulty motivating oneself to move, and falling asleep is out of the question.

Below deck, the stomach ache is joined, with enthusiasm, by a chorus of vertigo, muscle weakness, headache, and a general unwillingness to survive the day. I could not concentrate on anything and morale was at a lifetime low - being trapped on a surface, ever moving, that your body cannot stand, with no hope of reaching land for at least 4 days.

As I sat below, unable to fully comprehend my own misery, my shipmates were dashing about the deck, keeping the boat in motion.

"No I want to help, really! I do!" I wanted to scream, but my throat hurt too much and my brain was no longer connected to my vagus nerve. I wanted Mike to know that on the other boat I was useful. I helped to sail and told jokes and watched the sky. Now I just watched the ground in front of me, searching for the fast forward button.

Next, I was standing in a long stretching hallway with plain walls, and people I knew loitering about. I motioned to walk and greet them but my legs felt like rubber and I collapsed to the ground. My head spun, my joints creaked, and the bright hallway faded into a gray swirling mass of unidentifiable objects.

Then I woke up. I don't often remember my dreams, but this one struck me ironic enough to remember. My head was still spinning and my legs did feel like rubber. It is difficult enough to move about a sailboat when you are not sick.

"What type of cursed boat is this where the symptoms of sickness seep into my dreams.." I mumbled to a passing sailor. I think that I was actually going insane. I sat up, and, just as I was convincing myself that I was feeling better, the door to the head swung open, I caught a whiff of that "bathroom" smell, and I ran up on deck to throw up again.

After sharing the rest of my lunch with the sea, I lay back down, and, exausted, I quietly wished for death.