A Little Sea Sick | Wicked Tuna
Like liver, like failing. Your liver failing. Did you puke? No, it's not my stomach. We've been fishing hard for almost five straight weeks now, and I woke up this morning with an excruciating pain in my side. Um, it feels like when my appendix burst. I can hardly stand up. I think I need to go to the hospital.
Man, Jud, you seriously want to go to the hospital? Like seriously, go to the hospital? Like, is that like a serious thing? I can't. Like, talk. Are you good enough where we can drive you there?
I just know my organs aren't supposed to feel like this. I look at Drake and I can tell that he's not right. I want to keep fishing, but at the same time, I don't want to see Drake get seriously ill on the boat. It's my responsibility as Captain to make sure he's healthy. I don't have a choice right now. I guess I got to cut this trip short and take Drake in. Rather be safe than sorry.
Get him in. I don't want to see him get sick out here. Get him some medical attention. I don't know what this is going to mean for the rest of my season. One thing's for sure: everybody else is still out catching fish, and now we get Drake taken care of. Hopefully, Drake's better in a couple of days or so, or whatever, and we'll get back out fishing. If I got any hopes of catching them, I better figure something out fast.
Later, Drake.