Stress

During what should have been an idyllic trip out to Jamaica I had suffered a severe pain low on my right side, to the extent that the captain, who also acted as the ship's medical officer, thought we might have to divert, either to get me ashore or to rendezvous with another ship which had medical facilities. In the event, it didn't get worse but....

....for the first few months in Jamaica it continued to bother me and I made several visits to the doctor. He had tests carried out, including a barium meal with an x-ray, and found nothing wrong. This portrait of me early in our time there was the first taken by Elizabeth.

This is part of an air letter I wrote to my parents at the beginning of December 1973. It shows that I was well aware that, while the pain seemed very real, it was probably imagined. That I was causing so much trouble to everyone, and that I was not enjoying experiences which should have been wonderful, further depressed me.

I had plenty of reasons for feeling low. I hated working in an environment where very few people seemed to care about the education of the students, where inefficiency seemed to be the norm, and where so many things were deliberately made difficult. Yet there was so much to be thankful for: I might be struggling but Elizabeth was thoroughly enjoying every moment of Jamaica and having two small boys whom she could boss around.

What helped most was what was suggested in the last few lines of the clipping from the letter: plenty of relaxation. This is Boston Bay near Ports of Call. We were also increasingly surrounded by good friends, went out to parties which lasted into the wee small hours, we entertained frequently, and began to learn how to cope with the madness of daily life.

So, like everyone else, we learned to shrug our way through the shortages and rising costs of food and basic consumer goods. At one point sugar - of all things - was unobtainable, as was coffee - Jamaica's Blue Mountain coffee is world-famous - and twice while we were there the 'gas' delivery drivers went on strike, resulting in long queues for petrol. The mail got lost, the petty bureaucrats in government offices seemed to get a kick out of obstruction, the car bust itself on the potholes, and prices rocketed. One thing did worry us: the steadily rising epidemic of crime which caused us to be increasingly security-aware and to take simply protective measures, like rigging up an alarm system in the cottages linked to a siren which would bring everyone running when activated.

The stress never went away in the two years we were there and I, and the family, had to live with my symptoms.