A Letter from Nick

A Letter from Nick

This despicable disease gradually shrank my world. 14 months ago I felt that I had the entire globe to choose from and proved as much by going to Antarctica in January 2024. Then my world reduced to being defined by having to be less than a minute from a toilet in the final weeks.

It destroyed my enjoyment of eating. What was the heavenly delight of rose petal jelly on a clavisienne breadstick still warm from the Claviers’ boulangerie or the anticipation of tucking into a slow roast leg of lamb with all the trimmings has become a beige slop literally being poured directly into my stomach.

It robbed me of a good night’s sleep. I’d gone from dozing off under canvas listening to the gentle wash of the Indian Ocean at Whalebone Beach in WA or surrounded by the roar of a tropical night’s storm on a pontoon on the Great Barrier Reef to the angry hiss of a Bi-pap machine strapped to my face and forcing air into my lungs.

It sapped my strength. From (admittedly reluctantly) weekly strength-building gym sessions I descended to needing both hands to turn my toothbrush on. From hiking over volcanoes in New Zealand or exploring the heights of the Pyrenees to just about managing the few steps from the kitchen to the sitting room.

It prevented me from enjoying my favourite pastime of motorbike riding. I went from the euphoria of riding across the Swiss Alps or the scary exhilaration of outback dirt roads in Australia to being propelled in a wheelchair under someone else’s steam.

But worst of all it has robbed me of the future, I have felt time skidding by as heralded events were scheduled to occur after I’ve gone leaving me with a sadness I’ve never known before. The knowledge that I’ll never be able to take the grandchildren out for an adventure breakfast to give the parents a lie-in or a camping expedition in the backyard. I’ll never see Bas experience the joys of parenting recalcitrant teenagers. I’ll never see a grandchild’s 21st birthday party, graduation or wedding. I’ll never do another woodworking project with Ben, both of us taking as much enjoyment from the problem solving as using the final result or binge watch some dodgy science fiction series. I’ll never again have a long lazy breakfast on the deck high-fiving Anna as we work our way through the newspaper’s Superquiz. Never again will I experience the joy of a group ride barrelling along in country New South Wales on a new route with the niggling doubt that that we took the correct turn at the last junction. Never again will I take a moment to sit back at our dining table and quietly take in the surrounding cacophony of robust discussions at a dinner party.

However, I have had to constantly remind myself that it could have been worse, at least we had the time after retirement to explore Europe and Australia on motorbikes having the adventure of a lifetime.

Nick Murphy