About the twentieth day of my fast, I woke up feeling light-headed and weak. Not till my heart started fluttering rapidly, as I stood up to get dressed, did I get scared. Scurrying up to the mess decks, I gulped down a glass of fruit juice, with the hope it’d alleviate these symptoms. Instead, I experienced an increase in the magnitude of the symptoms as I returned to the compartment. Growing ever more fearful of what was happening to me, I hurried over to my bunk to lie down. As long as I lay there, I felt all right. Whenever I tried to get back up, I found that the symptoms quickly returned. Like a woman in labor, I knew the time had arrived for me to let someone know about my fast. So I lay there until my PO, who’d just stumbled upon me as he was making his morning rounds, ordered me to report up topside for work.
“I can’t go,“ I replied.
“Why not?“
“I’m not feeling very well, today,“ I answered.
Spinning around, he flew up the ladder, only to return as quickly as he’d disappeared. “Report to sick bay, immediately,“ he demanded.
As he left, I struggled to my feet and scurried over to the fountain, to get a drink of water. Feeling somewhat revived, I began to ascend the ladder. For by now, I was more concerned with what I was going to tell the Corpsman than I was with the physical symptoms of my fast. With the shot of adrenaline my body had given me, as it revved itself up around all the excitement, I easily made my way back to sick bay without collapsing.
Inside stood the Corpsman with his back turned towards the door. While I stood there in the doorway, he fiddled around with some bottles in a cabinet on the bulkhead behind his desk. He was a fairly stout young man, whose dress struck me as rather odd, only because he wore his pants so high up and tight around his waist, that they looked to be several sizes too small for him. Responding to a vague sense of someone else’s presence, he eventually turned around to see if indeed, anyone had invaded his space while he had been so preoccupied.
“Well what d’ya want?“ he asked, as he nudged his thick, dark-rimmed glasses back up on his nose.
“I’m not feeling very well today,“ I replied rather sheepishly.
“What’s the matter?“ he asked in a tone of voice that left me feeling rather suspect.
“Ever since I got up this morning,“ I began, “I’ve felt terribly weak and light headed, as if I’m gonna pass out if I don’t lie back down on my bunk. Whenever I try to get back up, or exert myself in any way, my heart immediately goes into this fluttering mode, that is, it begins to beat very rapidly.“
“Sit down here,“ he commanded, as he grabbed his stethoscope and quickly took my blood pressure. After listening to my heartbeat, he dropped the stethoscope down onto my abdomen to get a sounding of my bowels. Snatching the stethoscope from his ears, he asked “When was the last time ya had a bowel movement?“
As my body grew taut with anxiety, I broke out into a cold sweat. “About three weeks ago,“ I responded.
“Three weeks ago!“ he exclaimed.
At a loss for words, I simply remained silent.
“Have ya been eating all this time?“ he asked.
“No, sir, as a matter of fact I haven’t eaten a thing for almost three weeks,“ I responded feebly.
“Are ya constipated?“ he inquired.
“No, sir,“ I replied.
“So why haven’t ya been eating?“ asked a puzzled Corpsman.
“Because I don’t wanna eat anymore,“ I replied.
Scratching his head, he asked, “And why don’t ya wanna eat?“
“I just don’t wanna eat anymore?“ I repeated.
Completely bewildered by my response, he rubbed his hand back and forth through his thick black stubbly hair. “Excuse me,“ he said, as he jumped up and darted out the door.
Sitting on the edge of my seat, I wished it were over. Now that my fast was out in the open, I felt relieved, but not for very long. As I wondered what was going to happen next, I was overcome with anxiety.
