Jetboats and PTSD

I have a little story to tell.

Last week I went on a jetboat ride. Yes, I could get on the boat this time. I'd been on jetboats before and the way they have passengers get on them, I was able board easily. I was really looking forward to the trip. It was an all day trip. Three hours from Portland to Astoria and then back to Portland with a 3 hour layover in Astoria for lunch and shopping.

If you don't know anything about jetboats, they are fast. The hold about 35 people and can do a 360 (spin all the way around) going at full speed. I'd taken rides on the Willamette River (in Portland) and had a lot of fun on these boats. Anyhow, so the long trip seemed like it would be a blast. Right .... wrong.

The first hour of the trip was wonderful. There were only 8 women aboard and we cruised up through Portland on the Willamette with great narration and sightseeing. The day was 90 degrees and sunny. Gorgeous for photography, calm waters, absolutely picture perfect, until we merged into the Columbia River. The water became turbulent and the waves were high. Our little jetboat was knocked around. We would literally fall 4 to 6 feet between waves. Plop, plop, plop was the sound of all our bodies being airborne and then dropping back into our seats. The next hour and half was a nightmare. All of us thought about renting a car for the return trip. Anyhow, we all made it back to Portland on the jetboat, bruised and sore. (NOTE: The Captain said it was the roughest he had ever seen the water on the Columbia River.)

For the next 5 days, I was home hurting and sleeping. My back is still sore in places. I think I actually healed up fairly well. But what got to me was my PTSD. For the past couple of months, I've been improving (health wise). Most of the achiness had gone away and walking was getting to feel normal and comfortable. That was not the case after the trip. When I got that stiff and sore again, all I could think of was I'm getting sick again and going backwards. I knew I wasn't, but .... my feelings and emotions were telling me another story. All I could think about was how much I was back to hurting and not being able to get up off the couch without help. My heart sank deeper and deeper.

I kept telling Chris that this is how I "used to always feel". I really was that sore all time, and I didn't need a bad jetboat trip to make me that sore and achy. This plunged me into an nearly depressed state. Now that I'm starting to move freely again, my optimism has returned and I'm looking forward to living again.