At Sea and Seasick

 

 

Boats waiting for gringos with pockets filled with cash to go out for the day. It runs about 80 bucks per person to go out on one of the huge sailboats for the day. A lot of fun, open bar, a great lunch, swimming with dolphins in crystalline waters 200 feet deep where you can see the bottom. Just not for me without a stomach filled with motion sickness meds. Even after being raised with going out almost every weekend as a kid on my father's 40 foot sailboat I still get seasick. Landlubber.

Today was just not good. I must be on the verge of another bad bout of mcas asthma. When my moods tank it's the best indication it's on it's nasty way. I woke up with a headache, and feeling out of sorts. Even as I'd done a happy fun late video last night where I said I was done having anything to say about Without a Moral Compass for about five seconds before starting to ramble about how wonderful and crazy living here in Costa Rica is. 

Struggled to wake up. Jim kept prodding me to get dressed so he could run errands and then we could walk on the beach in Tamarindo. I was not super happy about this because Tama is like Panama City Beach, overcrowded, hotels and shops. Only the language is different, and I was just in no mood.

When we left we were still in the throes of that conversation about what to do about church. I am simply not going to attend any longer. Life is too short to concern oneself with asshole-ish game players. Jim's wanting to attend the small church the worst offenders have taken themselves off too. I had to tell Jim if he attends there he'll go it alone. I'll never attend. He didn't take it well. It spiraled into an unfriendly direction in which he started to criticize me, and I had to point out that everything he's complaining about is post-stroke that I have little control over. I now have a much worse temper and no tolerance for anything I perceive is bullshit.

At the first stop, the gym, Jim went in while I sat in the car reading. I started to get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. But we went on to the bank down the road to hit the ATM.. I sat in the car reading again, but this time I started to feel really unwell, like which end do I toss on the toilet unwell.

Whoever has the voodoo doll of me that is sticking pins in the stomach and elsewhere I wish you would lay off for a few weeks. I could use a bodily break.

Decided to go into the bank because it's the nearest bathroom. Across the parking lot at the speed of light, old lady me moving, grooving, and wobbling all over the place. Never saw Jim anywhere in the bank parking lot or near the ATMs. Ran, literally ran, on up to the bank, being stopped by the first security guard while blurting out "Emergencia! Bano!! Por favor!! Muy rapido!"

I don't know how to say "I am about to barf" in Spanish yet.

There's a whole host of new security features in place in the month or so since I've had reason to go into the bank. I had to take off the mask and pose for the camera. Let the security guard wand me for metal. Then I had to get into some oddment of doorway that seals, like being in a bullet proof plexiglass box and get scanned for weapons. The entire time I'm squeezing for my life, trying not to throw up or do grosser things until I rush into the building and make for the bathroom.

After the excitement of playing "Which end?" and everything I discover there's no toilet paper, none at all.......and I had to use a few old tissues in my purse and a crumbled up receipt from the grocery story to wipe. Then my cell phone starts ringing because Jim's now freaking out wondering where I am.

We never made it to the beach. I still feel pretty horrible physically, and it was another demonstration to me that the best laid plans are sometimes seriously waylaid by our own bodies. I came back home to bed, folding a little laundry and a pile of crocheting. So now I've gone from balance issues to full blown every single dumb symptom of mcas. I foresee that tomorrow is going to be much of the same.

Jim's trying to get me to go to the doctor, but why bother. There are a few really great doctors at the clinic, and then there are a handful that never heard of mcas. I have what I need here. I have my specialist in the States on speed dial.