If SEA = HOME

then SEASICKNESS = HOMESICKNESS.

Ugh, so seasick. [Spew of self-pity, self-doubt, other dark thoughts omitted here...]

Last week, Robert told me of a saying that in the first twenty-four hours of seasickness, you feel like you're going to die; after seventy-two hours of being seasick, you wish you would die. In hour twenty-eight of my own seasickness, I just wanted to kill whoever made up that quote, since that was all I could think about.

We left Madeira and said farewell to Chris at 9 AM on Saturday. I then spent almost all of the next twenty-eight hours in my cabin. Lying down, I didn't feel so bad, in fact pretty decent at times. Sometimes I felt good to the point where I would get up, thinking I was okay to do a shift, only to feel nauseous again, contribute a little more to the bucket by my bed, and lie back down.

I stopped eating because anything I ate just ended up coming back up (lots of ramen, a couple Tuc crackers). I also stopped drinking anything, because I didn't want to have to use the head, which would require me to get up and go to the bow. So I just lay quietly in my dark cabin and thought and slept and thought some more... I might have whimpered a few times too :)

Also, I felt really guilty and sorry for Robert, who had to sail through the entire night on his own.

Ugh. Seriously, ugh.