Plovers Keep Rolling Over

Yes this is an old post. But it IS one of my favorites and relevant as I went for a boat ride last week and was happy to see that about 1/3 of the beach has opened up for the public. If you need to know, that is 2/3 of a huge beach for a tiny bird and 1/3 of that same beach for huge humans. But we are getting closer.

As an aside, how can you tell Cape Codders are spoiled? When they are on a boat, the captain slows down as he spots a fin, they all rush to the bow and are disappointed to see dolphins. I thought for sure I could finally get a human sighting note on the Sharktivity app. Yes, growing up here has spoiled me- dolphins are quite the treat themselves. We saw whales on our boat trip too but I don’t want to rub it in.

Anyway, so I thought I would post this previous blog again for August while I work out some kinks posting on my new website. If I ever figure this out, plan on a new blog for September!!!!

MS hits the beach and crashes

Just months after my MS diagnosis I went swimming in the Atlantic Ocean.
That’s not as big a deal as it sounds.

This beach was a beach of my childhood. At least it was when the piping plovers weren’t hatching. When they were, the beach was closed which drew the ire of the locals and brought out our local attitude.

Trust me, piping plovers DO taste like chicken. I know because about 100,000 vehicle bumper stickers have told me so.

Back then, it was common to swim in the Atlantic. Now the Atlantic Ocean at this beach is filled with seals which means it is also filled with seal poop and Jaws.
I’m not sure which is worse.

For the record, I’m the only one who is concerned with seal poop. That’s either because I’m a germ-a-phobe who is particularly concerned with waste products, or because the rest of the world can’t do basic math- seal=seal poop, multiply by hundreds gives you 100’s of seals= lots of seal poop.

As for worrying about Jaws when swimming, we locals were tough. And by tough, I mean we were more afraid of our parents than we were sharks. As soon as one of our obnoxious older siblings started humming the Jaws theme music (you’re humming it now, aren’t you?) we would run to our parents only to be severely scolded.

“Shark. What shark?  Movie?  Don’t talk to me about any movie, that fish wasn’t even real!  I pack some sandwiches and soda in a cooler and drive five minutes out here so you can sit on a towel- go swim!”

It’s no wonder they never let us watch the Exorcist. 

Swimming wasn’t their only beach rule- they also made us ride in the bed of pick up trucks and never heard of bug spray.  How did we manage to avoid being eaten by vicious sea creatures, cracking our heads open after falling out of a truck and West Nile Virus?

I think we did have sunscreen; all the adults thought the Coppertone ad was cute.

Anyway, before the seals took over the ocean beaches, just after my diagnosis I went swimming in the ocean and had a blast.  But that night my arms roared with an incredible pain.  Now I say incredible pain knowing full well that pain is relative.  I have no idea if I have a high tolerance or low tolerance for pain.

How do you judge? 

I guess you can’t. I just knew my arms hurt like hell and as I laid there the only reason I could come up with was that whilst in the Atlantic- though lovely- the currents were harsh.

I spent a lot of time flopping around like a seal and battling to keep from being pulled out to sea.  It was less frolicking and more “hey, start swimming seriously or you’ll drift to Portugal before you know it.” 

The other weird (bizarre, strange, crazy) thing about that pain was that it went away during the day but came back again the next night and the next after that. 

It diminished slightly with each evening but still.  Why did it only come at night?  It’s like that age-old question our parents ignored when we asked, “when the tide goes out, where does the tide go?”

When the pain goes away during the day where does the pain go?

Fast forward to this summer where I swore I would make the best of the heat/humidity nightmare that is July and August. 

And I really have been. 

I’ve read 2 good books so far. 

But that wasn’t enough. 

With my pale skin still causing great embarrassment to my Portuguese ancestors and a need to get as much Vitamin D as possible, I wanted to get to the beach. 

(Just so you’re not concerned my MS friends, I do take a high, RX Vitamin D supplement and take great caution to eat Vitamin D rich foods.  There is a ton of ice cream in my freezer and a Dairy Queen frequent eater pass to prove it.) 

First, I had to figure out the best beach to go to.  The ocean beaches are a no as already discussed with the seal/shark situation.

Luckily, we have bay beaches.  Yes, I know.  Sharks and seals can swim but for some obscure scientific reason they can’t swim from the ocean to the bay.

The closest bay beach to me has real restrooms but tons of sand bars making high tide not really high at all. 

The next bay beach has more depth but only porta-potties. 

The beaches along Nantucket sound cost too much since I’m not a resident of that neighborhood. 

I know, I know.

Cape Cod girl problems that are making my mid-western friends want to beat me up.

Eventually I picked a beach and have gotten some sun and some swimming in.  Or, what kind of looks like swimming.  You might call it splashing around. 

Turns out the swimming skills I mastered as a kid have not held up well. 

Where’s the Jaws theme when you need it?  Nothing improves your breast stroke quite like that.

Anyway, after a couple of forays to the beach one night my left arm suddenly hurt- a lot.  It started from my elbow down my arm to my hand and fingers.  What is that?? 

Because it felt worse in my hand and fingers I wasn’t too concerned that it was a warning sign for cardiovascular trouble. 

Plus, it was worse when I moved a certain way. 

I know you wise guys are thinking “WELL DON’T MOVE THAT WAY!” 

But where the pain is keeps changing.

Is this the beach again? 

This beach had no current or rip tides.  The most I moved in the water was really just propelling my body to the surface to float around. 

(Floating, I still remember.  Leave it to a lazy girl with MS fatigue to manage to lay down in the water.)

Another way this pain is different from the ocean swim pain is, while decreasing, it does stick around during the day.  Does that have something to do with the tides? 

One might suggest that I should see my doctor.  But with MS all kinds of obscure sensations develop, wane, come back, explode, fizzle and generally make the MS’er question what to do when.  Going to the doctor with a new something I can barely describe is starting to get old. 

How do you decide what is doctor worthy when MS has turned you into a medical mystery?

I decided to handle this the Cape Cod way.  If it gets worse then I’ll make an appointment.  Until then, locals believe salt water is the cure for everything.  The best thing to do is get back to the beach, stick my whole body in the bay and see what happens.  

At least I’ll be getting some Vitamin D. 

Disclaimer

It’s important to keep your doctor posted on everything and the salt water cure may just be an old wives tale.  If you have a concern it’s best to call your doctor’s office, even if I don’t.

Also, the Vitamin D from the sun can penetrate through sunscreen.  What has a harder time are the UV rays.  If you are beaching it, please wear sun protection. 

Finally, this is a total tongue in cheek post. There MAY actually be sharks in the bay.  But there’s no seal poop there. 

Trust me, I’ve checked

Note

Only two and a half months until the rease of my new book, Shelter of the Monument, a coming-of-age story of first love in a beautiful seaside town. For all of the updates, reviews and chance to win a free, autographed copy. subscribe to my book release newsletter on the home page! (Just tp make it complicated for my MS friends, this is a seperate sign up from my blog subscriber list.)