For Men Only

Yesterday one of my sailing buddies was having a rough time on what should have been a fairly easy day for him. After a flip he quit the last race early and headed for the beach. I came in to find him sitting on the beach, half in the water with his Laser nosed up beside him. He was upset with himself – “I’m going to take up lying on an air mattress because I’m getting worse on this boat.” (All quotes will be changed to hide his inscrutable babblings.)

He wasn’t yelling or really angry, just discouraged. I began getting my Laser on the dolly and he kept it up – “Maybe I should be sailing a rowing dingy and quit all this nonsense.” One of the reasons I like this guy is that he doesn’t seem to be one of those men who has to hide his feelings when they’re crouching on his shoulder and eating his guts.

But instead of just listening, I started listing all his improvements I’d seen during the races. I know better, sometimes even men just need to be listened to in order to discover the real message. After a moment I got my mouth under control and began to listen as I helped him get his boat on the dolly.

He had begun feeling lightheaded during the last race and he was sitting on the beach because he was dizzy. His babblings were just that, the babblings of someone with a physical problem, like you see in hyperthermia and sunstroke. The humidity-heavy, 80-plus-degree New England afternoon seemed like it could be one of the relevant issues. He also hadn’t had much food during the day and no water in a couple of hours.

Taking care of men who are sick is a tricky business. I’ve been an EMT and led emergency teams in hospitals and I know enough to both discount the “I’m alright; just give me a minute.” and to offer help as if they don’t need it. My friend didn’t seem to need me to be careful, but my male instincts kicked in. We went into the clubhouse and I found us both a muffin. While he ate I got myself a cup of water, got him one too and refilled his when it was empty. It wasn’t long before he was clearly doing better. We sat and talked until he began to get antsy, a good sign, and then we went back to packing up the boats.

He was an easy “patient,” not at all like I was the day a boom cracked me in the head. That time I barely let the other guys help me with my boat and just kept brushing the blood out of my eye. What an idiot! Racing is no fun without competitors so I encourage us to watch out for each other and listen for important clues when the weather is especially hot or cold or someone seems to not be thinking clearly. And watch us men particularly; we’ve got a lot of pressure on us to not have anything wrong.