I've recently been reading through the printed copies I have of the blogs I wrote to cover our 2015, 2016 and 2017 sailing adventures.
Having done so, it dawned on me that I'd never had our 2019 blog printed (Yes. Still sharp as a knife me!).
Thinking it was about time I did, I started work on getting it into a suitable format. It was only then that I realised I'd never actually finished writing the blog (See information in parenthesis above...).
Oops!!
So, in the highly unlikely event that you've been waiting with bated breath for my next missive since Friday 24 May 2019, please accept my apologies. You must be a rather unhealthy shade of purple by now...
Well I'm happy to report that we made it safely back to the Solent, stopping in the Beaulieu River for the night of 27 May and reaching Chichester Marina the following day.
Cyclone was based there until, on 3 August, we took her to Thornham Marina for a lift out and a bit of maintenance (You know; decks cleaned and painted, antifoul applied, engine serviced, new anodes etc.).
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| Nice clean prop too. |
Then, on 22 September 2019, after another short stay in Chichester Marina, Cyclone sailed the short distance to Gosport Marina. This was to be her new home for the winter while we decided what to do the following year.
And there she stayed.
Without moving.
Slowly cultivating her own eco system below her waterline...
...and growing steadily greener on deck...
...until January 2022.
Yes, you read that right. January 2022!!
And even then she only left her berth a couple of times for a quick potter, returning the same night. She's only done about 30 miles since.
"Why?" I hear you ask.
And that's where we come to the title of this post.
Before I go any further, I'd like to include a quotation from Seneca's “On the Shortness of Life”, written circa 49 AD (that is Lucius Annaeus Seneca the Younger of course. Nah, I'd never heard of him either! Isn't Google a wonderful thing?):
“Yet the greatest waste of life lies in postponement: it robs us of each day in turn, and snatches away the present by promising the future. The greatest impediment to living is expectancy, which relies on tomorrow and wastes today. You map out what is in fortune’s hand but let slip what’s in your own hand. What are you aiming at? What’s your goal? All that’s to come lies in uncertainty: live right now.”
So what, you may reasonably ask, am I going on about now? And this, sadly, is where it gets serious.
We didn't know it at first, but all the time I've been covering our sailing adventures in this blog, my lovely wife Jo has been living with dementia. A particularly nasty and rare form of dementia, as it turned out, known as Posterior Cortical Atrophy (PCA).
PCA typically affects younger people, more often women, and progresses quickly. It affects vision, spatial awareness, balance and speech, as well as the usual things associated with Alzheimer's disease, such as short term memory.
There were a few things Jo had said or done that concerned me as far back as 2014. I remember discussing them with a colleague during our lunchtime walks (the days before enlightenment, when I used to work for a living!). But there was nothing of great significance and I dismissed them as probably just side effects of the menopause.
As time went on, however, these little things started to add up. Jo had difficulty compiling a shopping list and struggled with her handwriting. She forgot which rope on the boat was which and had difficulty carrying out simple tasks like steering with the tiller.
Then on 20 July 2017 in Klintholm, Denmark, Jo went to the marina shower block and failed to return. I found her more than 2 hours later. Instead of walking back to Cyclone after her shower she'd walked inland, away from the sea, and got lost. I don't know how, but somehow she'd found her way back to the marina and I was able to lead her back to the boat.
Two further significant events convinced me that we could no longer bury our heads in the sand. We needed to find out what was going on and decided that any plans to sail in 2018 would have to be put on hold until we'd got to the bottom of what was wrong.
To cut a long story short, in October 2018, just 3 weeks after her 53rd birthday, Jo received her formal diagnosis. In the consultant's opinion, from a combination of her test results, MRI and PET scans, she had been living with dementia for about 4 years - an estimate consistent with the timing of my early concerns.
Sailing in 2019 was possible as Jo was still completely mobile and we could work around the things she found difficult, such as finding her way back to Cyclone after a shower and, indeed, recognising her on her return. As if she didn't have enough to contend with, she had to get used to my cooking too as, sadly, following a recipe had been beyond her abilities since June 2018.
2020 saw the Covid pandemic which confined us to base like everybody else. A sad waste of the little time Jo had left in which to live a "normal" life.
April 2021 was the first time I noticed Jo having any issues with balance and mobility. She started to lean to one side as we came towards the end of a 7 mile walk and needed help to make it the last half mile or so.
And now?
On 11 August 2022, aged 56, Jo moved into a nursing home. She has no meaningful vision, rarely speaks, can't feed, wash or dress herself and is unable to stand (let alone walk). She suffers from hallucinations which cause anxiety, agitation and distress. Fortunately antipsychotic medication helps reduce these episodes to a minimum.
I visit her every day (except Thursdays, when a good friend of hers visits) and I think she still knows who I am. I hug her, kiss her, read to her, reassure her and feed her Maltesers. I also tell her I love her at least once a day. Being a typical bloke, I probably only told her that once a year until recently - unless, of course, I'd done something really bad!
But hang on a minute. This is supposed to be a sailing blog isn't it? What's with all this sentimental, sob story carp?
Look again at the title of this post and the quotation from Seneca. Like most people, Jo and I had plenty of reasons to put off leaving work and following our dreams. Working longer would have earned us larger pensions, potentially making our retirements more comfortable. If we'd saved for longer we'd have had more money to spend on things like marinas and eating out. Maybe we should have waited until our parents were no longer around?
If we'd done those things, we'd never have enjoyed our sailing adventures together.
So, if you've read this far and are dithering about whether to go on your own sailing adventure (or any other type of adventure for that matter) this year, next year, or maybe in 5 years time, hopefully I've helped you decide what to do.
If you are in a position to do it now, go for it!!
I'm so glad we did.
It's not the end for Cyclone and me. I still have her and one day I hope to do some serious sailing once more.
One thing's for sure though. It'll never be the same again.
Thanks for reading.
