The sea at night from abeam the starboard crane
Okay – this seasickness is getting old really quick. We’re on a good ship, built well and designed for these waters, but she still does rock a bit, and I’m below deck all day staring and little screens with blinky text. I was able to keep a bit of toast down yesterday for dinner, but other than that, I’ve not been able to hang on to anything solid in 48 hours (and no, the instant soup didn’t fare any better). Yeah, I know it gets better, and folks around me are being wonderful and accommodating. But this little bit of nausea, even after only two days, is giving me a profoundly deeper understanding of what my friends with cancer go through for extended periods. My throat is sore, my chest hurts, I’m tired and cold, even in a warm room. Do I want to watch a movie? No. Do I want to hang out and play guitar? No. Do I want to…? If it’s not “lie down somewhere soft with my eyes closed” the answer is “no”, plain and simple.
I’m on duty, the midnight watch for IT. It’s quiet aboard, and I’m supposed to be debugging why we’re not getting plots from daily DAS log processor. I’m supposed to be assembling documents that we were supposed to have sent off to HQ days ago. I’m supposed to be putting a bunch of crap away up in the storage room. I’ve got a stack of Post-Its on my screen of stuff I’m supposed to be doing. But right now? I can’t even look at it.
Yes, Captain, we’re in the middle of friggin’ nowhere.