Seasickness and psychology

THE FEAR OF SEASICKNESS is enough to make us seasick. That’s the opinion of Dr. Michael Stadler, professor of experimental psychology at Bremen University in Germany.

In his book, Psychology of Sailing, Dr. Stadler says:

“How often have we heard friends who occasionally sail with us exclaim in protest when told of the weekend plan to put into Heligoland, that they are always sick when they go there?

“Assurances from the skipper that the forecast is for light winds, and that some swell is to be expected no matter where one is on the North Sea, do not seem to help. There are people who, knowing they are going to Heligoland, become pallid and get a dry mouth as soon as they step on board. Indeed, many even begin to feel seasick while still ashore, at the mere sight of the boat.”

Dr. Stadler goes on the explain that this is a kind of anticipatory fear of seasickness, a fear that is learned by “one or more negative experiences in the past.” In other words, if you got seasick once before, you simply expect you’re going to be seasick again, even if sea conditions are much calmer this time.

If you are the kind of person who is susceptible to a conditioned reaction like this, once the boat puts to sea and the swell becomes noticeable, “seasickness proper, with its nausea and sickness, will set in much more quickly,” says Dr. Stadler. “Anxious people, moreover, tend to sit quietly on boat and submit passively to their fate. Motion sickness actually strikes people more quickly when they are sitting than when they are lying or standing.”

Apparently the most suitable employment for a crew member who is prone to sickness is helming. “We know from our experience of motoring that passengers (on winding mountain roads, for instance) are frequently motion sick, but never the driver himself.”

Lying down is the next best thing to steering, and after that the most favorable position is standing upright, legs slightly apart, without holding on to anything. When you’re doing this (and not falling overboard in the process) “continuous reflexive compensatory movements are activated throughout the muscular system by the sense of balance and the sense of position.” And this, says Dr. Stadler, “prevents a passive surrender” to seasickness.

Today’s Thought

One of the best temporary cures for pride and affectation is seasickness — a man who wants to vomit never puts on airs.

— John Billings, American humorist

Tailpiece

Mary had a little lamb

That leaped around in hops

It hopped into the road one day

And ended up as chops.

When to stay ashore

I RATHER SUSPECT that the number of people taking part in the sport of sailing or powerboating would be far greater if it weren’t for one thing — seasickness. Anyone who has been seasick can testify that it is an affliction so horrible that there are hardly words to describe it.

“Seasickness is an unpredictable menace to comfort,” said Rear Admiral Louis B. Olson, U.S. Coast Guard Commander of the Third Coast Guard District, in his book, Small Boat Seamanship, in 1956. He claimed  to know something about seasickness, having suffered from it himself, and having associated with all kinds of seamen for 40 years; and he offered the following observations “for what they are worth:”

“Some very few persons, possibly one in a thousand, are so susceptible that they should remain on terra firma and never go out to sea even on relatively smooth days,” he maintained.

“Others, still few in number, may go out in ordinary weather with little discomfort but should avoid any rough-weather passage.

“The vast majority can go out in any kind of weather with varying degrees of discomfort. This discomfort varies somewhat with the individual but more with the circumstances. For these individuals:

“(1) Discomfort decreases with the passage of time; that is, a person adjusts to the new situation  and finally his system accepts the new conditions without any noticeable ill effects.

“(2) This adjustment is eased and may take place without any appreciable discomfort if the passage begins smoothly and the change to rough weather is gradual.

“(3) Physical health and mental sense of well-being help to decrease susceptibility; avoid excesses of fatigue, loss of sleep, drink, and rich food before a passage.

“(4) Activity and interest in work sometimes help to decrease susceptibility; rest and sleep help in other cases; fresh air and sunshine are good; confinement below decks in poorly ventilated bunk spaces is not good.

“(5) Dramamine and other remedies such as Bonamine help by inducing rest and acting as sedatives.

“(6) Susceptibility varies with conditions: some individuals are more affected by deep pitching; others by rolling; some on small craft with frequent quick ship movements, while others are more affected by the slower movements of large craft with the greater total range of movement.

“Usually this discomfort eases over the years. I know of no case where it became more noticeable with age.”

Well, medicines for the prevention and cure of seasickness have improved since Admiral Olson’s day, of course. For example, the ear patch containing Scopolamine, originally  used by astronauts, has made a world of difference for me.  I get sick very easily, but I do get used to it eventually.

Incidentally,  I think there is one point that Admiral Olson overlooked. It is my firm conviction that people of fine breeding, acute sensibilities, and high intelligence — the sort of men who are better looking and more attractive to women — are also more prone to seasickness. I’m surprised that the Admiral failed to discover this. He should have asked me.

Today’s Thought

There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,

Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

-- Lord Byron, Don Juan

Tailpiece

“Your car holds the road very firmly. Does it have a special suspension?”

“Nah, it’s the heavy installments.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

The scourge of seasickness

ANYONE WHO SUFFERS from seasickness knows that it’s not just a matter of vomiting.  What’s much worse is the feeling of doom and hopelessness, the dreadful despair that floods the brain, the certain knowledge that you will never recover from this vile disease until a slow and painful death releases you.

There is plenty of free advice about how to prevent seasickness, most of which doesn’t work, but the golden rules are to stay away from alcohol, greasy foods, and engine-room smells.  Keep warm and dry, stay on deck, keep busy if possible, and watch the horizon. And also stay away from the ends of the boat.

To which may be added: Take medications before sailing or the occurrence of rough weather. The general rules is to take them three hours in advance. If you wait until you actually feel sick it’s too late for the medicine’s prophylactic properties to take effect. Ginger, in soft drinks or cookies, is often said to help prevent sickness.

If you’d like to try a new drug, check with your doctor first. Different drugs seem to be effective for different people.  And try it out on land first, to see what the side-effects are, if any. 

Seasickness occurs less frequently for most people when they lie down. The second-best position is standing upright, legs slightly apart, without holding on to anything—provided, of course, that you’re not in any danger of going overboard.

What is not so well known is that the very worst position for getting seasick is sitting down, either in the cockpit or down below. There may be some consolation in the fact that if you can survive being seasick for three days, you will have become adapted to the motion, and you are not likely to get sick later during that same trip.  The immunity you build up this way appears to last for six to 10 weeks, even if you spend some of that time on land, between voyages.

It doesn’t work that way for everybody, though.  I have been seasick for nine days in a row with no sign of adaptation and no relief until we reached port.  But two weeks later, when we set off to cross an ocean in very rough weather, I wasn’t seasick at all.

Incidentally, research has shown that women become seasick more frequently than men do. They seem to be more susceptible to motion sickness in general.  People of either gender become less prone to seasickness as they get older, and some authorities link this to a worsening sense of balance. Apparently, the more acute your sense of balance, the more likely you are to be sick. So as you get older, you’re less likely to suffer from seasickness, but more likely to fall overboard and drown.  What Nature giveth with one hand, she snatcheth away with the other.

Today’s Thought

You may be sure that the reason Ulysses was shipwrecked on every possible occasion was not because of the anger of the sea-god; he was simply subject to seasickness.

— Seneca, Epistulae ad Lucilium.

Tailpiece

“Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup.”
(13) “No problem, sir, all our soup is treated with fly poison.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

Sailing’s biggest problem

I SOMETIMES WONDER how much more popular sailing would be if it weren’t for seasickness. It’s a great pity that such a satisfying and enjoyable sport should make people physically ill. It’s not surprising that many people, after experiencing their first bout of seasickness, firmly put aside any thoughts they may have had about taking up yachting, and devote themselves instead to golf, table tennis, and crocheting little socks for newborn babies.

On the other hand, there are many people like me who go sailing despite a tendency to suffer seasickness. We have convinced ourselves (perhaps without much evidence) that the pleasures of sailing overcome the miseries of hanging over the side and puking.

Although it’s a disease of the mind, rather than the stomach, there should be no shame in suffering seasickness. Almost everyone will become sick if conditions are rough enough. Even in normal weather, 60 percent of people cast adrift in small inflatable liferafts succumb to seasickness. So the rather regrettable fact is that it’s more normal to be seasick than not.

The cause of all this misery is understood to be a conflict between what your eye sees and your inner ear “feels.” The inner ear is the balance organ, of course. When you’re down below, and no horizon is visible, your inner ear senses that your body is dropping through space as the boat falls off a wave. But your eyes say no, hang on, we’re not moving relative to anything we can see in the cabin.

So your confused brain sets up a little boxing ring with Eyes in one corner and Inner Ear in the other and lets them fight it out. Skin, meanwhile, loses pallor and becomes damp and cool. Legs, intuitively fearing the outcome of this fight, become a little wobbly. And finally, Stomach, noting no real progress in the ring, takes things into its own hands, as it were, and says it’s obvious that something’s radically wrong, and if you guys can’t figure it out then maybe I’ve been fed some poison. I don’t want to be the fall guy. I don’t want to be blamed after all this is over, so I’m going to throw up everything I’ve eaten in the last 12 hours. And I’m going to do it now, right now.

As a matter of fact, scientists don’t yet have a logical explanation for the nausea and vomiting. I have considered explaining it to them, but you know how they sneer when an outsider tries to tell them anything. I see no good reason why I should suffer such rejection. Maybe they’ll work it out for themselves in a century or two.

Today’s Thought
Money does not buy happiness but it does allow one to be seasick in finer surroundings.
—Dave Martin

Tailpiece
“Why are you looking so gloomy?”
“My wife just had a daughter.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I was hoping for a son to help with the washing up.”