July 28

by Jane Miller

I have had damn little good news in my life in the past 19 months, and I wasn’t expecting any when I sat in the exam room for an hour waiting for my retinologist, Dr. Lin, to explain the monthly test results.

My distance vision was strangely better, my middle and near vision worse The “starlings” of floaters and clouds of gray tulle that dulled my vision were back, the flashes of light continue. Continue reading July 28

Anchor

By Erik Dolson

The marina where we’d gone to do repairs cost more per month than the mortgage on my home. Parties down the dock were too long and loud. We’d been sprayed with water by a young man washing the boat next to us, and he was belligerent when we objected.

It was time to go. Irish wanted a quiet day on the boat before we headed south, and so did I. Besides, crab season had opened and she had a license! Continue reading Anchor

Shower stalls

By Erik Dolson

A sailboat is a world of small spaces. If the boat doesn’t have a water maker, fresh water is precious and saved mostly for drinking and cooking and (efficiently) washing dishes. Showers are further down the list, so sailors often shower on shore if a nearby marina has facilities.

Taking a shower in a marina has challenges. Here are a few tips.

First, give up any idea you want to be “presentable in public” while walking up the dock. You are on your way to the shower, and that’s how you look. Continue reading Shower stalls

Sailing is about Trust

by Jane Miller

Sailing  is about trust.

Who to trust. When to trust. How much to trust. What to do if that trust is broken.

Close to one year ago, we left the dock in Victoria bound for Sidney on the eastern side of Vancouver Island. Off the dock, out the harbor, southeast along the Strait of Juan de Fuca,  and a short jaunt up the east coast.

That was the plan. Continue reading Sailing is about Trust

Sinking Spell

Jane Miller

Dr. Lin said we’d give it one more month. One more month of careful observation. One more month of weekly self-injecting methotrexate with its life-sucking side effects. One more month of painful (but brief) bi-weekly Humira.

If the inflammation goes away, we’ll continue without the injection of steroids into my left eye. If the fluid is still there, well, we’ll continue and do the shot. Again. Continue reading Sinking Spell

Who’s blind?

By Erik Dolson

We were back on the boat at the end of December, planning for a New Years celebration in Victoria. The fireworks had been cancelled, or were never scheduled, but we didn’t know that and didn’t really care. We were on the boat and with friends.

Irish’ last doctor’s visit had been great. Her left eye had improved after the injection of steroid. (I held her hand, but could not watch.) While it was impossible to know if the methotrexate was effective, signs were positive even if her vision wasn’t improving much past 20/30, even with the new glasses we bought her last summer. Continue reading Who’s blind?

Erik Wrote a Book

by Jane Miller

Erik wrote a book.

This is not a surprise. He’s written a number of books.

A nonfiction book about adult attachment disorder. A story about a couple who meet on the ferry. A mystery. And now he has rewritten a book he wrote under the pen name “Jessica Love.”

Writing anything and showing it to the world takes courage, perseverance, determination, and not a little chutzpah. Erik has taken these a step further and added self-awareness, pride, and honesty to the list.

The first “Jessica” book was good. A well-written whodunit with amazing sex scenes. But he was honest with himself and realized he could do better. There was a slightly different story that needed to be told and he was ready to bring it to life. Continue reading Erik Wrote a Book

On Becoming an Advocate

by Jane Miller

                                                                               

Whoever wrote the definition of “advocate” didn’t know the half of it. I mean, “to speak or write in favor of; support or urge by argument; recommend publicly,” does not even begin to describe this past week in Washington, DC.

I am exhausted beyond words. The insomnia that dogs me nightly is worse when I travel. It has been like that for as long as I can remember, no matter how many times I have flown for work. The insomnia that sits up with me when Erik is not in bed comes along, too. The insomnia that comes from Parkinson’s, fibromyalgia, and sleeping on titanium refuses to be outdone. A powerful triumvirate, these three insomnias. Continue reading On Becoming an Advocate