Elle has a history of trouble with boats. Ever since she was a little girl living in Queensland, she’s gotten terribly seasick. She used to think she’d get used to it eventually, living on the coast and all, but she’s never gotten her sea legs. As a result, she tries to avoid sailing at all costs, which can sometimes be difficult considering where she lives. Tasmania is an island, and her apartment in Hobart isn’t far from the ocean. She can find a boat almost everywhere she goes in the city. Avoiding ships isn’t exactly an easy feat when you’re surrounded by the sea.
Despite knowing how her body reacts to being on the water, Elle purchased two tickets for a river tour as a present for her girlfriend. When she told Jade about her plan, her girlfriend was reasonably concerned, but Elle reassured her that everything would be fine.
“River boats are slow,” she said, “and I’ll take Dramamine.”
Now they’re here, on the bottom floor of the double-decker boat, gliding down a green river surrounded by trees and beautiful mountains… but Elle can’t enjoy even a second of it because she was wrong. River boats don’t move slow, and she’s nauseous as hell. She’s broken out in a sweat, and her brown bangs are plastered to her sticky temple. She’s tugged off her denim jacket to drape it over the back of her wheelchair—the last thing she wants is to get a gross stain on her favorite article of clothing.
Jade is standing behind her, rubbing her back gently. “How are you feeling?”
Elle bites the inside of her bottom lip. “Not very good.”
“Do you want some water? I know you took motion sickness medication earlier, but I packed Pepto-Bismol too,” Jade says, already digging through her backpack.
“Some water might help,” Elle admits. She’s gripping the arms of her wheelchair with white knuckles, breathing carefully through her nose. She does not want to throw up on this ship. There’s a bucket sitting in her lap, courtesy the helpful steward, but she’d rather not have to use it. They’ve isolated themselves from the rest of the group, sheltered in the handicapped section by the engines where they can’t hear the tour guide. At least if she does vomit, they’re far enough away where they can throw the contents overboard without unwanted attention.
Jade hands her a water bottle, and Elle sips slowly. Her girlfriend leans against the railing beside her, running one hand through her hair soothingly. The wind blows a light mist over them from the waves every couple minutes, and Elle welcomes the distraction. Anything to keep her mind off her stomach.
“We shouldn’t have come,” Jade murmurs, looking past her toward the verdant hills.
Elle frowns guiltily. “I thought for sure I’d be fine. I mean, I’ve never been on a river before.”
Her girlfriend’s fingers gently scratch her scalp. “Don’t feel bad, Elle, I’m not mad at you or anything. I’m just sorry you’re sick.”
“It’s not that bad,” she insists, trying to put on a convincing smile. “Honest. Don’t worry about me, just try to enjoy the ride.”
Jade doesn’t look like she believes her, and Elle deflates a little. She should’ve known better than to try and fool her. They’ve been together for too long for her girlfriend to fall for any sort of deceit.
“We’ve still got a couple hours to go,” Jade warns, setting her pack down by her feet on the deck. “You sure you can handle it?”
Elle forces a grin, but she’s sure it comes out more like a grimace. “Is that a challenge?”
Jade rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of smile on her lips. “No, it’s definitely not. You think I wanna clean up after you?”
“You won’t have to. I can take care of myself,” she replies. Jade squeezes her shoulder.
“I know you can, baby,” she says softly, “Just hang in there.”
Elle nods, but at this point even small movements make her world spin. She’s acutely aware of the rocking of the boat and the instability underneath her. She’s put her wheelchair into park, but it still inches back and forward a bit. Closing her eyes, Elle tries to focus. She just needs to power through the pain. Her stomach churns like a washing machine on the highest possible setting, and saliva fills her mouth. Tentatively, she takes another drink of water.
“Maybe Pepto-Bismol will help,” she finally says, opening her eyes and glancing over at Jade. “It might lessen the nausea at least?”
“Sure, babe.” Jade opens her pack and rips open the pill packet without hesitation, placing the pink tablets in Elle’s open palm.
It’s at this precise moment that Elle’s gut twists in that damning way. She drops the pills and clutches her bucket with both hands, doubling over and puking. It burns even though it’s mostly water, tears springing to her eyes. Jade pats her back, and Elle has never been more grateful that she tied her hair back in a ponytail that morning. She retches for longer than she’s comfortable with, but, eventually it ends. Sitting back up, she wipes her mouth with her forearm, and Jade takes the bucket from her lap, swiftly dumping the contents over the edge.
“Feel better?” she asks.
Elle frowns. “Not really. Still dizzy, but I don’t think I’m gonna be sick again.”
Jade offers a consoling smile. “That’s good, right? Here, I packed some breath mints.”
Elle gives her the side-eye as she retrieves the items from her bag. “You knew this was gonna happen, didn’t you? Before we left?”
Jade shrugs. “It’s better to always be prepared.”
Elle pops several mints onto her tongue and tries to eradicate the nasty, acidic taste of her stomach’s contents from her mouth. “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have you here.”
Jade playfully punches her shoulder. “You just figured that out now?”
“Shut up,” she laughs, still amused despite how shitty she feels. “You’re lucky I don’t try and kiss you right now.”
Jade snorts, throwing her head back. The breeze ruffles her blonde hair, and Elle watches her with a smile. Maybe the trip hasn’t been a total bust.
(tags: fic tidbit, no plot, sickfic, vomit, violence mention, supportive Zer0 is trying okay, pandoran medicine is questionable at the best of times, let alone when you don’t bother to clear out your cabinet because you only ever use insta-health)
Rhys retches into the toilet again. Beside him, Zer0 searches the medicine cabinet, rattling through various pill bottles with faded labels and dubious expiration dates.
Rhys mops the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Then he makes the mistake of glancing down into the toilet bowl, which does not help his nausea at all.
“Ohgod that’s gross. Don’t look, Zer0,” he warns miserably.
They snort and turn to him as they drop a large unlabeled bottle into the trash. The gelcaps inside shatter like glass when it lands, and Rhys silently agrees with their decision to chuck it.
Zer0 looks at the toilet and flicks their fingers dismissively. “You think I’m squeamish?/ Stomach contents are no big./ I spill guts daily.”
He peers up at them, still gripping the toilet seat in much the same way that he clings to the door handle when Zer0 is driving. “Other people’s?“ he hazards.
“Naturally.”
He drops his flushed cheek onto the cool metal of his arm and groans. “Zer0, buddy, I love you, please can there be less talk about disembowelment while I’m trying not to dry-heave?”
my ancestors seeing me shrug off a diarrhea session
People in the notes confused because they’re so accustomed to running water they don’t know how close diarrhea might have otherwise come to killing them if they’ve had it even once lol it’s killed more humans than just about anything in history
We’re the granddaughters of the bowels you couldn’t irritate
Mine would be baffled that I’ve gone 5+ years with bloody diarrhea. Inflammatory Bowel Disease has probably always existed, but they didn’t have treatment.
I do want to specifically shout out Dr Thomas Latta, who is the person who gave us IV hydration, and pretty much magically cured cholera with it in his first attempt. From his diary:
I attempted to restore the blood to its natural state, by injecting copiously into the larger intestines warm water.. trusting that the power of absorption might not be altogether lost, but by these means I produced, in no case, any permanent benefit.. I at length resolved to throw the fluid immediately into the circulation. In this, having no precedent to direct me, I proceeded with much caution. The first subject of experiment was an aged female. She had apparently reached the last moments of her earthly existence, and now nothing could injure her – indeed, so entirely was she reduced, that I feared I should be unable to get my apparatus ready ere she expired. Having inserted a tube into the basilic vein, cautiously – anxiously, I watched the effects; ounce after ounce was injected, but no visible change was produced. Still persevering, I though she began to breathe less laboriously, soon the sharpened features, and sunken eye, and fallen jaw, pale and cold, bearing the manifest impress of death’s signet, began to glow with returning animation; the pulse, which had long ceased, returned to the wrist; at first small and quick, by degrees it became more and more distinct … and in the short space of half and hour, when six pints had been injected, she expressed in a firm voice that she was free from all uneasiness, actually became jocular, and fancied all she needed was a little sleep.
Diarrhea can very easily be death by dehydration, especially when you can’t consume oral fluids (Cholera causes extreme vomiting as well). Not only did we solve part of the problem with clean water, the other half was learning how to put clean water into our bodies (with salt).
Also fun fact, Thomas Latta was active in England at the same time as John Snow, the father of epidemiology, also in response to the Cholera epidemics at the time.
