More than a paramedic

Every nautical mile closer to the harbour, brought a break in the weather and by time we docked, you would have never known we had experienced an intense storm.  

After such an emotion-filled ride, passengers extended their well wishes as they scattered to go about the rest of their day; and the captain and his crew began their routine process of shutting down the boat.  And there I sat.  Unable to move, because any movement created an avalanche of feelings - nausea, dizziness, slurred speech, double vision and overall weakness.  Finally, after much persuasion, I took steps to get off of the boat. None were successful. Every step was filled with anguish as it became more of a reality something was genuinely wrong.  

Slowly and methodically, we walked a few steps and then stopped for me to sit down as I was so weak and relentlessly vomiting.  Eventually, we got to where the captain and his wife had an office for her real estate business and his deep sea excursions.  She encouraged us to come in out of the heat and rest until I felt stronger.  

Nelson got me as far as the first chair at a desk positioned in front of large glass doors. I continued to be sick and it became more apparent my speech was impaired as well as my vision. Of course, all along believing I was just dehydrated from the continual vomiting caused by the seasickness.

And then, someone passing by saw how sick I was.  He turned around. Opened the door and said, “I’m a paramedic and I was wondering how I could help.”  Immediately, he began asking us questions and then, I heard him say, “Give me a minute.  I’m going to run to the pharmacy.”  

Everything inside me wanted to scream .... “Don’t leave me.”  For a moment, I thought, he is more than just a paramedic, he is the answer.  He’s going to figure out what exactly is wrong with me and I’ll make it through this unbelievable nightmare.  

Well, as fast as he left, he returned carrying with him an arsenal of medications for nausea and vomiting.  Declaring, “this medication should bring you relief in minutes,” I took it; and yet, there was no change.  Convinced he had done all he could, he said, “I hope you get better and if you don’t see some relief soon, you really should consider going to the hospital.”  And without hesitation, I mumbled to Nelson, “Please, please don’t take me to the hospital.”  

By now, hours had passed and there was no sign of relief. The muscles in my body had become fatigued and it was next to impossible for me to walk; however, the captain and his wife offered us a ride back to our hotel.  So, slowly and gradually - with the help of my husband, we made it to the car.  And with every bump on those nostalgic cobblestone roads of Puerto Vallarta, I was reminded of how much pain I was in.  

In route to our hotel, we passed two hospitals and again, we were encouraged to go to one of them, if I didn’t feel better in a few hours.  Softly, I whispered to Nelson, “Please, don’t take me to a hospital.”  

Changed forever

“Changed forever” … little did I know the ramifications of that thought.  

Feelings of claustrophobia began to encamp around me.  The damp, gray backdrop peering through the portals, made the cabin of the boat feel eerie and warm.  Since the windows were closed, not to take in water, there was no cross breeze and I could hardly breathe.  And then, out of nowhere, I experienced the most dreadful headache.  It felt like someone had just hit me in the back of the head with a baseball bat!  And then, the pressure in my head was insurmountable.  What was going on?  

With hardly a moment of delay, I began feeling dizzy and sick.  What was I going to do?  Here I was, seated on a bench with my stomach churning as hard as the waves against the underbelly of the boat.  With distorted vision, I began scanning the boat for a bucket, a bowl, anything; and then, I spotted a plastic bag across the cabin, laying on a counter.  Finding myself unable to communicate sufficiently what I needed, I began pointing and signalling to the person closest to the bag.  All the while, trying to keep myself composed and yet knowing....it was about to happen, I was going to be sick.  

And sick I was!  Actually, I’ve never been so sick before.  To describe what happened would be too graphic and would turn the stomach of the most seasoned of nurses, let alone a novice.  I was so violently ill that Nelson could hear me out on the deck. He attempted to get to me.  I could see him advancing toward me.  Confused and determined to hold my head up, I held my hand up to indicate for him to stop; and then I motioned to him - go back on the deck.  In a later conversation, he asked me, “Why didn’t you want me to come and sit next to you?”  And this was my response - “At that moment, I honestly thought I was going to die and I did not want you to live with “if onlys” the rest of your life. I didn’t want to die ‘on you’ and I was praying I wasn’t going to be dying with you.”

Somewhere between being fully aware of my surroundings and feeling like I was going to slip away into a state of unconsciousness, I could hear the empathetic voices of some of the passengers on board the boat.  Quietly, and amongst themselves, people were making statements like, “I’ve never seen anyone get so seasick before.” And,  “This is the worst case of seasickness, I’ve ever seen.” Then following up with encouraging statements like, “Once we get back to the harbour and you get on land, you’ll get rid of those sea legs and feel much better.”

At one point, I remember distinctly having another kind of conversation. It was almost like an out of body experience.  In my mind, I would repeatedly say, “I am going to die on this boat” and then, I would hear this small, still voice, as though it were above me, saying, “You aren’t going to die.”  It definitely was a battle in a realm I have never experienced before; and deep within me, I sensed it was a battle for my life.  

Despondent for what seemed like a lifetime, I sat there in soiled clothes and shoes.  Unable to hold my head up, I sat there humbled and embarrassed waiting for this climatic boat ride to end.    

The storm that changed everything

Whether it be a seasonal storm or a storm in a season of life - storms happen. We’ve all been there. One minute, everything looks serene and beautiful; and the next minute, the atmosphere turns dark and chaotic.  

How many times have you been drifting through life, when all of sudden, a major storm showed up out of nowhere and turned your world completely upside down?  In the nearly seven decades of my life, I can think of two times when I went through a tumultuous “season of life” storm and two times when I experienced a significant weather event.  

Although, my experiences have been limited, all four storms have been life altering.  The residual effects of the storms changed relationships, financial security, geographical locations and in some cases caused a seismic shift in a sense of “normal.”  In all of these storms, there was a common factor, except for one, the fact that my feet were placed on the ground.  At times, shaking or struggling to remain upright; however, my feet were definitely planted on solid ground.  However, in the last storm - the storm in Puerto Vallarta - there was no place for sure footing, except in my faith.

Lunch was over at the quaint beach side restaurant, everyone was laughing and joking about how full we were; when, someone mentioned - “Looks like a storm is rolling in.”  In the meantime, shuttle boats were taxiing people from the shoreline out to where the boats were anchored in the bay. Although we would have preferred to be together, there was only one seat left on the back deck by the time we reached the boat. Nelson tends to be more prone to motion sickness, so I said, “You, go ahead and take the seat outside and I’ll go inside the cabin.”  

The cabin was full, so the men stood; while most of the women took a seat on the bench that wrapped around one side of the cabin.  The only exception was that the captain’s wife; she took a seat on the floor because she said it was the middle of the boat and she never gets seasick.  

Typically, I don’t get motion sickness either; however, if someone else befalls to it, beware.  Call it empathy or power of suggestion … fighting off the sickness becomes a challenge for me.  Immediately, I start with positive self talk and then transition to changing the subject.  Anything to keep my eyes on the horizon and my mind off of the possibility of succumbing to the dreaded symptoms of seasickness.

Confidently, the captain felt like we would be out from under those dark ominous storm clouds once we moved out of the bay.  After all, a storm had not been predicted and this was not their tropical storm season. Unfortunately, there was no escaping.  

The clouds were looming over us like a heavy wet, gray blanket.  Swelled with raindrops, the enormous clouds opened up producing a torrential downpour.  The water became rougher and the waves bellowed up out of the raging water causing the waves to lap up on the sides of the 38 foot boat. The boat began rocking around like a kid’s toy boat in a washing machine, and everyone began to feel the effects. People were popping dramamine and through their brave faces you could see a certain level of uncertainty.

And then it happened .... one of the ladies became seasick.  Others on the boat began to take care of her needs while I was doing everything not to even think about it.  From my vantage point, I would go from being concerned about her to checking on Nelson.

How could I get to him?  The the boat was rocking so hard, it would have been impossible to get across the cabin floor to where he was seated.  And just when I decided I’d take the chance, someone encouraged the lady that was seasick to sit in the doorway leading out to the deck to get some fresh air. I know she would have moved for me; but, the obstacles to reach him were becoming insurmountable to me in my mind.  At that moment, I had a sense of peril and I knew our lives would be changed forever.