Clouds and Silver Linings

Nothing is permanent. Thank goodness for that.

We know that Comparison is unhealthy

Making the most of the regular commute

Just as it’s unhealthy to compare your life to that of a fake Instagram Influencer, it’s also wise to remember that other people’s difficulties do not diminish or belittle your own struggles, no matter how minor they might appear in comparison.

When life is caving in on you and you’re barely able to function, it can be difficult to the point of impossible to see any good coming from the situation. It would seem churlish to speak about silver linings to those currently in Ukraine fleeing their homes under the most unbearably awful circumstances. 

However, the only thing that remains constant is change. No situation, good or bad, is forever. It’s that precarious temporality that helps us get through the awful times (because they WILL change for the better,) and helps us make the most of the good times while they last. 

The past three months have been quite the challenge for my family. A couple of weeks before Christmas, my brother was admitted to hospital in excruciating pain. In fact, he told us in his distressed state that he wanted to die so he could be released from the unbearable pain. 

It didn’t take long for him to be transferred to King’s College Hospital in London, where he was later admitted into Intensive Care. 

With 24 hours notice I left behind my home and my life in the Outer Hebrides and travelled to South East England to support my Mum. As the one nominated visitor permitted to see my brother due to the Covid Restrictions in force at the time, I made the seven hour round trip to King’s three or four times a week. 

For six long weeks my brother was on a ventilator and heavily sedated. We endured some very dark and difficult times. Many tears were shed. Many hours were spent lying awake in bed. Many phone calls were made to friends and family. 

Finally, the medical team were able to give my brother a tracheostomy and get him off the sedation and on the road to a slightly speedier recovery. The procedure was a success, and after a few days they gave him a speech box that allowed him to speak for the first time in nearly two months. 

‘Why are you so ugly?’ were his first words to me. One thing he hadn’t lost was his sense of humour. 

‘Don’t worry brother,’ I replied, ‘The Doctors can fix your lungs but they can’t do anything about your face!’ 

For the first time in many months, we laughed together.

A week later, the tracheostomy was removed and he could use his real voice. Another week later, he was out of Intensive Care and on a ward. 

Finally, this week, he was transferred to a local rehabilitation centre to try and regain some of the motor skills that he’s lost due to the illness suffered.

My time here is now done. I’ve carried the baton for three months, but now my Mum and my brother’s children can take over, and Dougal and I can finally go home. 

If there is one thing guaranteed to expedite change, it’s the reality of imminent death. 

I’ll be honest, my brother and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. We are very different people.

Over the past few weeks, he has teetered on the brink of death on more than one occasion. The first such occasion, before he was in ICU and sedated, he remembers vividly. 

‘All I heard was ‘Crash Call! Crash Call!’ and I’ve never seen so many people move so fast in all my life,’ recounted my brother. ‘I was looking down on myself, seeing myself lying on the table and the medical staff dashing about around me, yet at the same time was telling myself ‘Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes, I’m not ready to die.’ I’ve never been so scared in my life.’ 

One of the most difficult aspects of visiting my brother in ICU was to see a fellow human being in such a terrible state. So many wires, tubes, support technology, and the human that they are attached to being dependent on these machines and medical intervention for their survival. If that’s not enough to bring tears to the eyes of anyone with even just a shred of compassion, then the conduct, dedication, and overwhelming bloody amazingness of the incredible humans who devote their lives to helping others in this state certainly is. From the lead consultant to the nurses, from the ward clerk to the cleaner, they are all the most incredible people, and I’ll never be able to adequately thank or honour them for what they do. 

I will never be able to adequately thank and honour all those amazing people who make up our NHS.

Despite our past differences, I used to hold my brother’s hand and, for the first time in our half-century on this planet together, I told him that I loved him. 

When he could speak, after the cheeky banter, he told me he loved me too. 

There is a long, long road ahead of my brother full of hard work and frustration as he tries to regain the necessary motor skills to live an independent life. The physiotherapists are hopeful. However, his outlook on life has shifted dramatically. Before this all happened, he was prone to being negative. Now, despite all the challenges he faces, his demeanour has brightened, he speaks with positivity, and he’s a pleasure to be around. He’s simply grateful to be alive. 

Dougal and I are now hitching up the Airstream and heading home. Home to the Outer Hebrides. It’s going to seem a little bit strange to pick up the life we had to suddenly drop three months ago, but I can’t wait. 

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It’s a Wrap! 

The Caravan, Camping, and Motorhome Show at Birmingham’s NEC took place just over a week ago now, and what an amazing week that was. I was blown away by the number of people who came to listen to me talk about Touring Scotland Responsibly, and it was beyond lovely to meet so many people and chat face-to-face. Thank you to all those who came and said Hello, and to all those who gave up their time to support the talks. Despite the stage and the screen and the lights, I’m still just one man in a van doing his thing with his dog. I’m so grateful that people want to hear our story. 

HELLOOO!

I was expecting five people sat eating their sandwiches…

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Change is the theme this month. And for the next few months too.

Looking forward to what’s ahead… onwards and upwards!

Speaking of our story, and speaking of change, stay tuned to our YouTube Channel and your Newsletter feed for the next few weeks. Change is essential to growth, and evolution is unstoppable. Over the past few years we have experienced some big changes, and each has led to personal growth and new opportunities: Quitting my day job, calling time on full-time touring, selling the motorcycle, and realising my dream of moving to the Outer Hebrides. The next big change is about to take place, and I’m very, very excited about it. I can’t wait to share this with you once everything has fallen into place. 

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How to Support Streamlining

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