Carsick

I get carsick. I get carsick like a little kid. I was told I'd outgrow it. Sadly, this was not to be. It seems so minor, but it affects a lot more than you might realize. I'm not going to pretend that it's a serious illness or that some people don't have bigger, truer issues, but it's something I wish people wouldn't just dismiss it as nothing.

When I think back on being a kid, about half my memories involve carsickness. My best friend's mom used to take us around in large, older cars with the heat cranked up. The car smell liked plasticized vinyl and that fake pine from one of those air-fresheners hanging on the rear-view mirror. (To this day, when I see one of those silhouettes of a pine tree, I get slightly nauseous.) I don't blame any driver for causing me to get sick. I get carsick at an Imax theatre. I've made myself carsick with my own driving, which should earn me a special prize or something.

I can't always predict when it'll hit. Generally, I need as few stops as possible. I am less likely to get carsick on a 50-mile ride down a highway than a two-mile trip to the store on back roads. Heat is always a factor, so if you see me place my wrists on the cooler window, I'm just trying to cool down a bit. (I'm not sure where I got the wrist thing, but it works on a limited basis.) I'm better in the front seat than the back, and I'm best of all when I can drive, which is why I will often volunteer to do the driving.

When I get sick, I starts out as a touch of queasiness, a rumble in my stomach. I cough (a reaction I have to being nauseous because just turning green and trying not to throw up is never enough.) At this point, I am usually trying to get fresher air, cool down, concentrate on not being sick (which is often not the right action because then my body starts crying, "I'm carsick! I'm carsick!" My body is a jerk.) It just builds from there. Often there's nothing I can do but just hope we arrive at our destination soon. I rarely get to the point of actually throwing up, but, once I'm out of the car, I do need some time to recover.

It's embarrassing. It really is. For me, it's the usual reaction to a ride in the car, but, for a lot of people, they want to check to see if I'm alright or they get overly concerned. I just need some fresh air and a few minutes. I don't want to discuss it, because I am highly suggestible and the more I talk about it, the more I feel it. (How suggestible am I? I'm slightly carsick just writing this post.) The good news is that it never sticks around. Five or ten minutes after I'm out of the car, it's over.

You probably don't realize how often you just pop in the car with a group of people: you go to lunch, you run an errand together, you pick someone up. I do, because every single time, I have to decide if a bout of carsick is worth it. I dread when someone picks me up to go somewhere. Every Christmas, my family wants to drive around and look at the lights, and I have to ask them to limit the drive.

Of course, it's not just cars: planes and boats are just as much fun. Sailing is just an invitation to revisit my last meal. I'm not afraid to fly, but I hate the idea of getting sick when I fly. I can feel it the second a plane starts circling an airport. I can't read when I travel -- that would be too much. (I have found that mahjong on my Kindle is a good diversion, but I have to shut it down when we approach, which is when I'm most likely to get sick. Flight attendants do not take this as a reason to violate FAA rules.)

It's not deadly and there are bigger problems in the world. Just understand that when I ask to ride in the front seat and a touch more air conditioning, it's just an attempt to enjoy the ride.