Police Psychology: Dehydration
by Gary S. Aumiller, Ph.D ABPP
My head was beating, one of those really bad headaches that only come every once in long while. This one was different though. I had a little vertigo when I stood up, so much so that I was having trouble standing and needed to lie back down. My heart was racing: I was extremely tired, in fact all I wanted to do was sleep. My thinking was all messed up, like I was in a fog and couldn’t concentrate. I was craving a roast beef and tomato sandwich from a street deli back home. I hadn’t been to the bathroom in a long while, a couple of days. I wasn’t going now because I couldn’t stand. My joints were badly aching. I was sure I was coming to the end of my life as the century had just turned and I was 43 years old. My father only made it to the ripe old age of 45. Besides, I felt I was needing to die to feel better. With help, I made my way over to the infirmary at McMurdo station, where a physician’s assistant diagnosed me with the Antarctica Crud, a sort of flu-like disease people seems to get on first visiting the continent. I went to the bathroom on the way out and noticed the tiny drops of urine were deep yellow, almost brown. Then a thought occurred to me.
“Um, excuse me,” I asked the infirmary staff. “Could this all just be dehydration?”
“Not if you are drinking your 6 liters of water.” They snapped back.
“Six liters!! That’s a little more than eight 8-ounce glasses I was always taught.”
“This is the coldest, driest pace on earth. You need three times as much water. Didn’t they tell you that? People die from dehydration here.” (more…)