One day a little over a week ago, Brad and I went kayaking in a lovely, secluded anchorage called Troup Cove. The shoreline rocks were simply covered with mussels. Brad decided to eat one so he pried one off a rock, broke open the shell, and popped it in his mouth. He proclaimed it delicious! And yes, it was raw, folks. Just like what Bear Grylls and Les Stroud would do. (These are two survivalist types that have programs on the Discovery Channel, our favorite cable station.) If they can do it, why not Brad??? Real cave man stuff. Brad offered to get me one too, but I declined. I prefer muscles of the OTHER variety!
A few hours later, I went to bed, but stayed up late reading Stephen King, and drinking beer. He came to bed about 1:00 a.m. (I found the incriminating beer cans the next morning in the trash). And this behavior from a guy who has been rationing his beer and my wine consumption so that we wouldn't run out before the next chance to restock.
Not only did he come to bed late, but he started hiccuping violently and continuously. Between the shuddering hiccups which caused the bed to rock annoyingly and his buzz saw snoring, I simply could not sleep. I tried rolling him over to no avail. I then tried to go sleep in the aft stateroom but the mattress had been removed over the engine (to make the engine checking process easier) and the second bunk was filled to the gills with a couple of huge sails, a shotgun, numerous charts, and other heavy stuff (not to mention if I moved them, where could I possibly put them?) so I gave up on that idea as well. I eventually put on my clothes and some heavy socks, found an afghan in a storage locker, grabbed my pillow and retired to the salon setee. Not exactly comfortable, but if I pulled my knees up into a fetal position, it wasn't all that bad. At least the setee didn't bounce and roll with each hiccup and Brad's snoring was somewhat muted by the door between us. Finally, I was able to sleep a few hours.
In the morning, Brad tried to act as if all was well, but it quickly became apparent that all was NOT well. (At least I knew I was feeling extremely sleep-deprived.) Brad was STILL hiccuping. It wasn't long after leaving our anchorage that Brad had his first puking bout! (Thank God he made it to the galley sink before losing it.) He slept nearly the entire day (and all that night) while I drove to our next destination. (So much for me doing my P90X regimen which has become my custom while we are en route.) He looked like hell all day, couldn't eat anything, and vomited at least three times that I saw. His discomfort certainly gave me a little joy. It served him right after his night of debauchery! By evening he was still feeling puny and he even had a degree of fever. I started feeling a little sorry for him. (Not much, but a little.)
By the next morning, there was no change in his situation. Still hicupping, but not non-stop now. He still couldn't eat and again slept most of the day. By the end of the second day, I started to think it might not be a hangover. I surreptitiously pulled out the Wilderness Medicine book that my dear sister, Lyn, gave me for Christmas a few years ago and read up on shellfish toxicity while Brad slept. What I found was not good and not encouraging. A significant portion of those ingesting non-farm-raised mussels (whether cooked or raw) die within a few days! So I started getting worried. Brad still had a fever, still wasn't able to each much, and now his vision had gotten blurred. We started recording his vital signs and symptoms in case I had to call for his emergency evacuation. (Oh my God! Do they deliver a new captain when they haul the old one away???)
Fortunately, Brad started to be able to eat some cold foods on the third day, but coffee still made him want to hurl. (Can you imagine? Coffee is his favorite beverage!) By the fourth day he could eat hot foods in small quantities and was feeling a lot more normal. By the fifth day, he was back to normal but roughly 10 pounds lighter. (He calls it the mussel diet but doesn't recommend it.) He has sworn off mussels and any other form of shellfish for the time being.
The jury on this case was hung so no monetary or punitive damages were awarded to either party. Half of the jury thought it was a very mild case of PSP (paralytic shellfish poisoning) while the other half thought it was SAP (self-inflicted alcohol poisoning). You be the judge...
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