There is a joke told about cruise ship passengers -- that people get on as passengers and leave as cargo. The joke, of course, refers to the amount of food many passengers consume during their cruise and thus the resulting weight gain. I've been a little surprised to learn over the course of this year that's not the only kind of possible passenger cargo on ships.
On a transatlantic cruise this past spring, the ship's captain made a detour toward a small island country so that a very ill passenger could be transferred to a smaller boat and then taken to a hospital on land. Prior to this event, I'd given little thought to what happens if a passenger becomes critically ill while in the middle of an ocean. But after this "rescue at sea," I started observing that more than a fair share of passengers on that cruise looked unfit enough that they might be traveling against physicians' advice. I silently wondered why someone would place themselves at such risk given if they had a heart attack or stroke halfway across the sea, the outcome might be.....fatal.
On our recent 29 days at sea, I heard several older passengers say, kiddingly I thought, that the cruise line should offer a burial at sea plan. One gentleman listed the number of people he knew who had died recently while on cruises. About midway through the cruise, R and I were chatting with a crew member who for decades worked on a cruise ship that offered lots of round-the-world cruises. Because of the advanced ages of most passengers, someone died on the ship almost every two weeks. Passengers, er "passing" was so frequent that the ship had a morgue close to the ship's hospital. Apparently some passengers embraced the "Let-me-have-one last cruise and leave as cargo plan." What I saw as risk -- too ill for long trips on the seas -- others viewed as an enjoyable way to leave life. This was a different perspective from mine but at least I now understood what others were joking about.
There is another kind of baggage we all carry with us wherever we travel and that's our emotional baggage. Oddly enough when I travel, I frequently not only face my own emotional baggage, but I usually encounter someone else's.
I really like my chosen profession of psychotherapist and I love that over the years I've helped many people. It is also clear to me that more than a few people view psychotherapists with some suspicion. During our recent travels by ship, we were seated next to a young honeymooning couple. After chatting with them about their wedding and future plans, food, and other topics, they moved on to the topic of work. R, who is retired, explained the various positions he held over 42 years of employment. The couple talked about their work and then it was my turn to answer the how-do-you-make-a-living question. I explained that I'm a psychotherapist who is taking some time off to travel and answered the non-confidential questions about my work -- former office location, where I trained, stuff like that. The topic seemed to be quietly fading, when one of them looked at me quite intently and said:
"I just have one question for you. Do you think I'm insane?"
In the five seconds that I pondered the question several responses flashed through my mind, including the most obvious -- "I didn't before but now I do just because you've
asked this stupid question." Rather than give my honest opinion, I gave a practical answer
and the one I hoped would stop all further questions.
"Insanity is actually more a legal definition and not a mental health diagnosis," I said.
I secretly hoped this person would magically disappear and take his emotional baggage with him.
For the rest of the trip, I considered using a vague response when asked my profession. I practiced saying something like, "What I do is confidential and I can't really talk about it" or I thought about lying, saying I held a classified position with the CIA.
But I didn't. Probably because I'm proud of my profession.
As our travels continued we joined a tour group and early on many in the group asked what I did for a living. One evening while sipping wine before dinner, someone asked me "When people find out your profession do they stop talking to you for fear you are analyzing them?" I was momentarily stumped for I hadn't noticed people avoiding me though it did seem that R and I were not sought after in the group. In fact, that very night no other tour guests sat with us at dinner. Hmmmm. Since we are moving to a new town and will be actively shopping for friends, this was not good news. Therapist-as-suspect.
A day later someone in the group said he'd heard I was a therapist and then asked "Are
you always analyzing everyone in the group and figuring out who is crazy?"
There is just no good answer to that question.
Baggage. It is everywhere. And not just the cargo kind. I wonder if the CIA is hiring.
70 Beds and Counting.
