the streak

 

Similar to a winning streak in baseball, my personal streak is that I haven't barfed since the late nineteen-seventies.  Sure I have to turn and spit a little vomit out my mouth sometimes maybe, but not a real convulsive emptying of the stomach.  Even after forty years, it is an experience I do not want to repeat either.

On the boat alone fishing for Coho out in front of LaPush, late in my season on an almost glassy ocean when I went below and cooked up a fine breakfast.  Hashbrown and egg and sausage and toast with jam, ketchup on the potatoes hid the taste of wanted meat.  Returned to my workstation a new man. Fresh coffee in hand, reel in the gear, and see what we got.  

Feel a little funky, something rumbling in the guts and I have a second look at the sausage and it's turned and I didn't notice it in all the smoke and hustle-bustle of fixing food while also trolling along with a fleet.  Always watch for other boats and that's not my best thing, I'm now feeling sick.  

The next few minutes weren't much fun, drank salt water to get things started, felt as if one more bout like that would kill me.  Going into chemo a guy naturally worries about nausea and vomiting.  They infuse a little bag of antinausea medication before the Taxotier every time I go in, then two bottles of pills for me to take at home. 

So far the streak isn't broken but I'm getting tired of wearing my ball cap backward.