Live Long and Prosper          by: Brandy Dewinter          © 2000, All rights reserved

 

Chapter 3 - "Itches Once Itched"

 

*****************************************

Log of the Twilight Breeze
17 October 2004
Long 142.84 deg. W
Lat 12.97 deg. S

(At Sea)

It feels good to be at sea again, away from Tirce’s Island. I didn’t like that woman, nor her island, though I couldn’t tell you exactly why. Part of the reason I’m glad we’re gone, though, is just being at sea. You might think that after all this time we’d get tired of the sea, but there is a renewal in our sprits every time we return. I know I feel that way, and I’m sure Adam does, too.

In some ways he is so predictable. We must have put to sea a hundred times, and yet, if the weather is good he’s still only done it one way. Raise the main, then Jib 1, stop the auxiliary and raise the mizzen, finally raise Jib 2. Then trim, trim, trim, trim. It keeps the sail pressure reasonably balanced, maintains control as we transition to sail, and minimizes wasted motion. The engineer in him is pretty deeply rooted.

Watching him go through his familiar motions, right down to flaking the lines properly after he had the sheets trimmed, made me think back over our life together. It’s been a terrific life, and I wouldn’t give up a second of it, but I wonder if we still missed out on something.

Some times I think the best thing for him would be if he could learn to appreciate a little more spontaneity. He does, on ‘unimportant things’ like a bath in a mountain pool, but on things like getting the Breeze ready for sea, well, there’s the right way and nothing else. I don’t really mind. It’s kept us safe for the last year, but I really think he could be happier if he were more - for some reason the image that just came to me was that of a high school cheerleader. All bounce and excitement, maybe even a bit of a bimbo. I don’t know why I thought of that, but the image fits what I think is missing from his enjoyment of life.

That image is really pretty funny, now that I think of it. Adam would not be mistaken for a cheerleader, even on a dark night at a long distance. He’s remarkably trim for a man his age, but even so he’s - I suppose the charitable word would be - ‘solid’. Particularly about the middle. He’s only a few inches taller than me, which puts him a few inches below 6 feet; average in height and certainly not the tall, trim hero of romance novels. Solid fits him, though. Strong shoulders over a waist that still shows muscle even if there is hardly any taper from those shoulders all the way to his hips. And then there’s the other ‘problem’ that no cheerleader would ever accept. He’s got all that fur. But, that’s my ‘Bear’, and I love him.

It’s a good thing he loves me, too, or I’d have screwed up this trip before it even got started. Without telling him ahead of time, I had my hair cut short just before I showed up at the dock for our cruise. I thought he was going to refuse to go. He always loved my long hair. I was thinking about how hard it would be to take care of on an isolated sea voyage, though, and thought he’d understand. Well, he didn’t. So I got angry and he got angry and I told him he was stupid and he told me I was dishonest and what should have been the beginning of the happiest part of our life together was nearly the end of it.

I was already crying when I told him he just didn’t understand, for probably the tenth time. My lovable big teddy bear just can’t stand it when I cry. Not that I did it for effect; I was really upset. But he got really quiet and said something to the effect that if I at least wouldn’t cut my hair on the trip, then he wouldn’t either. I realized he was trying to find a compromise, so I agreed and we started our voyage on that inauspicious note.

Of course, now that he knows how sensual it can be to have someone brush long hair I don’t think you could get near him with scissors, but in the beginning he did it just to indulge me. It was a sign of respect, really, recognizing that my feeling that we needed to be conscious of the problems of keeping neat was justified. We couldn’t allow ourselves to become bums. I always appreciated that.

And I have made some progress with getting him out of his own fashion rut. While he was getting us ready for sea this time, he was wearing a brightly-colored island shirt instead of a dark-blue golf shirt. I swear, I think he had twenty of those, all packed for this trip. But we picked up some brighter clothes along the way and he wears them as much as any other now. Still can’t get him out of his khaki cutoffs though, unless we’re in port. Or unless he’s just wearing swim trunks. Ha! When he is just wearing trunks, it still looks like he’s got a gray shirt on.

Oh, well, enough of this reminiscing. Adam is below now, sleeping. I took a nap in the afternoon since we were going to sail all night, and now it’s my turn on watch. Our course is mostly east, actually just running downwind to put distance between us and Tirce’s Island.

End log entry
Elaine Bridger

****************************

 

I came back on deck about midnight, to take my watch and get us back on our normal at-sea routine. We had divided our day into thirds, with one part at the helm, one part ‘private’ to do whatever we wanted (mostly sleep, of course) and one third shared awake time for chores and just being together. It worked out pretty well.

"How’d you sleep?" Lainey asked.

"With my eyes closed."

Her frown doesn’t really work when she’s laughing inside. But she did turn it into a legitimate ship’s business question. "No, really, are you going to be okay for your watch? I can stay up a while longer to keep you company."

I shook my head and said, "I’ll be fine. You know I always enjoy your company, but we might as well get back on schedule."

She nodded, and stretched as she stood from behind the wheel. The Breeze was on automatic pilot, but we always stayed close to the wheel just in case, and you could end up stiff after a long watch. After the obligatory swapping of the lifeline, now hooked to my vest, she disappeared below.

Actually, I hadn’t slept really well, though I felt quite refreshed. I just couldn’t get that Tirce woman out of my mind. Now that I was awake, my mind kept replaying everything that had happened, which didn’t help except that it kept me awake.

Somewhere about the time the sun came up, I started to itch a bit, all over but mostly on my chest and in my crotch. It wasn’t anything more than annoying, but I was all too aware that there were a multitude of nasties that you could pick up on a tropical island and I was about to call Lainey to wake her when she came up yawning and stretching.

And scratching herself.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said sleepily. "Itching a little for some reason."

"Me, too."

"Uh, oh," she said, recognizing as I did the potential.

I glanced at her still-moving hands. "How bad is it."

"Not too bad," she said. "I don’t feel this compulsion to dig at myself or anything, just a sort of tingle that feels better when I rub at it."

"I guess I’m about the same. Well, there’s not a lot we can do right now, except maybe put some lotion on it. Try and keep your hands away from your eyes," I ordered, trying to remember to obey that myself.

"Right. Let me know if yours gets any worse. I guess I’ll go make us some breakfast."

She was back in a few minutes with a deceptively simple meal. Most people wouldn’t find a breakfast with a couple of eggs much cause for excitement, but it looked great to me. Before I had eaten much more than half of it, though, I realized I wasn’t hungry any more.

On the other hand, Lainey looked like she was considering licking her own plate so I offered her the rest of mine.

"You’re not hungry?" she asked.

"Not any more. It was great, though."

"Well, I don’t really need any more, either, but my stomach hasn’t gotten that message yet."

"So send it this one instead," I said, holding my plate to her again.

I fidgeted in my seat a little, as she was finishing, and she asked, "Is your itch getting worse?"

"Not really, but I feel like I want to do something. I don’t know why, but I feel really energetic this morning. My arthritis must not have woken up yet."

"Well, if you have all that energy . . . " Lainey said, glancing at the filter pedals.

"After yesterday, you still want another shower?" I asked, laughing.

"Yep. And if you want one, too, then you might as well get started."

She slid into place by the wheel and I went to do my daily grind. I generally managed about 20 gallons per hour of fresh water, but the sea must have been particularly salty or something, because while I felt good, I just couldn’t push hard enough to get to that rate. In the end, it took me an extra half an hour to make my ration of water. You might know, we must have moved out of whatever was tough on the filter when it came time for Lainey to take her own stint on the cycle because she finished up several minutes early. Still, I felt good even after the extended exercise, with none of the aches I had come to expect were forever part of my life.

"Are you going to go take your nap now?" asked Lainey.

"Um, sure, I guess so," I replied. "I usually do about this time of the morning."

She nodded. "Sleep loose, Bear."

I didn’t realize at the time that was the last time I would hear her call me that.

When I woke a few hours later, my itch had concentrated quite a bit. Most of my body felt fine, really good in fact; no aches and pains, less stiff, too. But I did have three very noticeable places where my itching had, if anything, intensified. Maybe that’s what distracted me, because I didn’t notice the other thing that had changed until I got on deck.

"Adam, what happened?!" Lainey yelled.

"What?" I asked in turn, looking around to see what the crisis was.

"No, on you!" Lainey said. "Where happened to all your hair?"

I had taken the clasp out of my hair when I laid down, but I usually did that, so my hair seemed normal to me. Then I realized what the problem was. In reaching to capture a lock of hair from my head, my arm moved into my view.

My blotchy, partially hairless arm.

The thick mat of curly gray hair was missing in hand-size patches from several areas. A moment’s inspection showed similar hairless areas on my legs, and when I pulled off my shirt the problem was, if anything, worse on my chest and back.

My silence was all the answer Lainey really needed to establish that I didn’t have any explanation either. She did have another question, though. "Do you feel alright?"

"Yes, fine. In fact, I feel pretty good. I was thinking of that before I came up. I’m not as stiff as I usually am when I wake up."

"Well, thank God for small favors," she said, still frowning. "I wonder if this is related to that itching. Do you have a rash or anything?"

"Not, um, where the hair has fallen out," I reported. "I do still itch, but it’s not really widespread. What about you?"

"I still itch pretty much all over, but I may have a bit of heat rash."

"Where?"

"Where I usually get it," she answered sharply.

"Uh, oh, yeah. Well, that’s one of the places where I still itch, too."

By this time, she was rubbing my skin, seeing if it was tender.

Actually, it felt pretty good. Really good.

"Oooh, do that again," I suggested.

"What?"

"I said that felt good."

"Get serious for a minute. We may have caught something on that stupid island."

"Well, whatever it was, it sure made my skin sensitive," I observed.

"Not in a bad way, either."

Lainey looked at me for a minute, then said, "Well, just in case, maybe I better rub some lotion into your skin. I don’t want it drying out or anything."

"Be my guest," I said. "I’ll even return the favor after you shower yourself."

"Deal," she agreed, trying to smile though she was still worried.

The smooth, cool cream she rubbed into my skin felt heavenly, and after she went below to start our evening meal, I nearly decided to break our rule and take my life vest off. I didn’t, but I did leave my hair loose and just enjoy the caress of the warm breeze. Supper was simple, though Lainey did surprise me with some small steaks she had managed to keep frozen all the way from Tahiti. I still wasn’t all that hungry and once again she ended up eating part of mine.

After supper, we brushed each other’s hair and speculated about what might be causing the symptoms we felt, but for some reason I just couldn’t get too worried about it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t hurting me. No nausea, no aches, just some hair falling out that I didn’t need anyway.

"You better go take your nap," Lainey suggested. I usually broke my sleep period up so that I’d have some just before my watch. Nodding, I went below to find where all the hair that had fallen out of my body had gone. Right on our sheets. I had to change them before I laid down, but I still fell right to sleep.

 

******************************************

Log of the Twilight Breeze
18 October 2004
Long 141.43 deg. W
Lat 10.92 deg. S

(At Sea)

 It’s strange, but being at sea makes you both more and less dependent on others. You realize right away how many things we take for granted that are in fact very important. Things like, in this case, immediate medical attention for Adam. Whatever was making his hair fall out was pretty intense. He was worse than a shedding cat.

On the other hand, in our year at sea we had learned to cope, too. Panic had no place in a real crisis, so we faced potential danger with a sort of fatalistic confidence. We would do all that could be done, and after that it was in the capable hands of God. ‘Comfortable’ seems a bit strong for our attitude, maybe resigned would be better.

In any event, I was concerned about Adam losing his body hair, and about his itching, and about my own itching, and about some other things, too, I guess. But I recognized it would be at least a few more days before we could do anything about it but keep sailing. And even in that we needed to pace ourselves. Rushing in bad weather or when we were too tired would be a more certain risk than any apparent physical ailment.

I’m also worried about Adam’s appetite but he seemed fine, full of energy and cheerful. Still, he should be eating more. That’s another strange thing about whatever was afflicting us, because my own appetite is excellent, and if we picked up the same thing, I’d expect similar symptoms instead of opposite ones.

Oh, well, time to talk about something else.

Sometimes it’s a bit of struggle to find anything positive to say in this log, but I always try. It helps keep things in perspective. The standard things like good weather are always important, even when I hardly notice, but I want to keep a record of good things from our life, too. And I found one as Adam went below. With the hair on his legs missing in large areas, you could see their shape better. He’s got a pretty good-looking set of wheels for an old man. If the rest of that mat of hair falls out, I might have to get jealous. Maybe I’ll make him wear that Speedo I got for him instead of those knee-length shorts.

Okay, that was pretty weak. But I do worry about him, and want him to be well. The doctors said we should have five to ten years of excellent health, and we’ve spend one of those on this trip. But I want all ten, and more besides.

End log entry
Elaine Bridger

*************************************

 

When I came back on deck just before midnight, most of the rest of my body hair had fallen out. For some reason, and I was very pleased to note it, the hair on my head was unaffected. It still fell about my shoulders when I relieved Elaine at the wheel.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine. I feel more energetic and, well, interested in things than I’ve felt in a long while. Even this thing with my body hair makes me curious, not afraid. Like it’s a big adventure and I should be finding other new and unusual things to do as well."

Lainey was still worried. "Does your skin itch?"

"Not really. My nipples itch, and the skin around them a little. And I think I have some of that heat rash between my legs, too, but all the places where the hair is missing on my body feel really good - sensitive in an alive way, not a painful one."

"How about you?" I asked in turn, looking at her.

She shrugged, and said, "I’m okay, too, I guess. I have that heat rash, though I don’t see any redness. It’s just an itch. Take off your shirt."

I pulled it over my head without argument. Of the two of us, Lainey was the better medic so if she wanted to take a better look at me, there was no sense arguing. I had brought the lotion with me anyway, so she used the time to smooth it into my newly-exposed skin.

"Ohhh . . . " I moaned when she ran her hands over my nipples.

"Oh, did I hurt you?" she asked.

"No, not at all. It felt great. That lotion really helped the itching."

"Was it that bad?"

I laughed, and smirked at her. "No, it just felt that good. You can do it again anytime you want."

She slapped my arm, laughing. "For an old fart, you sure are feeling frisky."

"Not that old," I protested, reaching for her.

She laughed again and slipped to the companionway. "I’m going to get some sleep for myself, now. Hold that thought."

"I’d rather hold you," I said, grumpily, but it was only for effect.

And it had its effect as she laughed once again while disappearing below.

I shouldn’t have been disappointed. We seldom made love at sea. I suppose I was too cautious or something, but I wanted someone watching any time we were underway. Well, almost any time.

With that thought in mind, though, I started to think about finding an anchorage. We were approaching the Iles Marquises and I thought a layover would be a good idea. There are a couple of larger islands, the whole chain is more volcanic than coral-formed, and we might do with a day ashore in a real city for a change.

 

(continued in Part 4)

*********************************************
Live Long and Prosper © 2000 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.