First week at work has passed. It was a weird mix. First few days were pretty nice. No cargo, did maintenance, had a couple of little projects and got them done. I got transferred to our largest bunker barge for a few days, though, and got my ass kicked. It was a real slog, not least because I didn't know where anything was, and everything, EVERYTHING was bigger and more challenging to deal with than on the current HQ. Having to spend 10 minutes trying to figure out how to turn on the floodlights while worrying about sucking air on an almost-empty cargo tank, things like that, office calling, ship calling, things like that, the stresses are individually small, but additive.
Oh, there was a breaker panel in the generator room, behind the thermal oil cargo heater where there was no reason to be or to look. I found them, kicked the lights on, jogged up forward to the tanks being pumped, swung the valves shut just in time, then promptly vomited, since it was 90 degrees out and no wind and literally running around while overheated is stupid. Luckily, I had practice, since I had barfed the watch before, too, for being overheated. Unfamiliarity led to a lot of extra moving around.
So after that, I was awful happy to return back to the HQ-in-exile. After rehydrating and actually eating a meal, I found that I lost a pound a day, since I was too nauseous to eat more than an avocado and 2 hard-boiled eggs a day. Barfing up a bellyful of water was a loss each time, for sure. I sweated through my clothes so much that I think I peed once a day over there. The guys regularly assigned there go through the same shit, I'm sure, but with familiarity comes an economy of movement, since they not only know where things are, they also know the time sequences and can anticipate where they need to be.
At any rate, as the saying goes, the best part about hitting yourself on the head with a hammer is when you stop. Getting back to the HQ was a treat, and today I am feeling much better.