Sail•ing (sāl’ing)
- n. the fine art of getting wet and becoming ill while slowly going nowhere at great expense. Henry Beard & Roy McKie
Marc and I are sick. OK I admit it I gave it to him but he wanted to live on a small boat and share everything so who am I to deny him his wants. I never really gave it much thought before we left other than ensuring a generous supply of over the counter meds. We don’t get sick. Ever.
A few nights ago I woke up with a burning throat, fever and a wicked head ache. Of course my first thoughts were not good. I thought of the water that I drank that wasn’t purified, the under cooked chicken and my new love for cerviche (raw fish cured in lemon or lime). Cholera, e coli poisoning, salmonella, the list in my mind went on. Just days before Mexican Customs had asked if I had a fever when we came in. It seems that they have had some outbreaks of cholera in Cuba. Marc of course the ever level headed husband laughed at my fears, grabbed me a couple Tylenol rolled over and went back to sleep. Marc’s cold heart and laughter ensured his fait accompli, a done deal.
I googled how to avoid getting sick while traveling and found some amazing advice: Watch what and where you eat, Inspect the vendors premises, inspect the seller, have the seller kill fresh chicken or meats in front of you, all of which I have broken at this point on many occasions. The realization that I should have been preemptive is not lost on me.
Since I was getting no sympathy from Marc, I’m off to see fellow cruiser and Doctor Tom. Ok he’s a dentist but my teeth are part of my head so I figure what could I lose. Linda logic. Tom reassured me of my fate. I have a cold. He prescribed orange juice without vodka and plenty of rest. For the love of orange juice, who gets sick on a sailboat?
So Marc is now full of sniffles, my burning throat has turned into a hack. Being sick on a sailboat in paradise is just no fun.
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