A short story of bad to worse.

Well our sailing season in the Med has finished; somewhat abruptly and in an unexpected fashion. Picture this: You’re out there in the Mediterranean, on this slick yacht called Coco with the sun smilin’ like it’s got a secret. You’re chillin’, sippin’ on a glass of somethin’ fancy, thinkin’, “This is the life, man.”

But then, outta nowhere, this seagull, this wise old seagull, decides to challenge your Zen. It’s like it’s been watchin’ too many action movies or somethin’. This bird swoops down like a rogue missile, and you’re all, “Not today, seagull!”

You twist and turn, channelin’ your inner Neo from “The Matrix,” but here’s the kicker: beneath your feet, a banana peel appears. No kiddin’, a banana peel, the universe’s way of messin’ with you. You slip, you slide, and BAM! You end up in a position you’d call ‘extreme yoga.’

Your back goes, “Snap, crackle, pop!” and you’re there, stretched out like a pro gymnast, showin’ off moves that haven’t even been invented yet. The crew on the yacht, my wife, she’s watchin’ this like it’s a one-man Cirque du Soleil act. She can’t decide if I’m in pain or rehearsing for an aerobatics event.

This is how it went down… Palma; October 13, it’s a Friday of all days. Piece that together and you’ll understand the irony. We’ve just arrived after a magical few weeks sailing Menorca, the Northern, Eastern and Southern coast of Mallorca; completed by a magical few days on Cabrera Island. Tied up safely at Reial Club Nàutic de Palma, basking in the reflected glory of the wonderful month we’ve just had.

Time to clean the topsides, hull and get things packed up ready for our overnight sail back to Badalona in a few days where we are leaving Coco for a couple of months while we go back to New Zealand for a bit. Yeah it was pretty sore that night, that aging back of mine. But nothing to worry about. Couple of anti inflammatories; she’ll be right mate.

And just like that, the next day, I become a legend, a name they’ll never forget. You’re the guy who turned a seagull showdown into a back-bending masterpiece. It reminds me of something Matthew McConaughey would say; “Life throws banana peels at you, man, but you just gotta keep on cruisin’ through the Mediterranean waves, and don’t forget to enjoy the ride!” Yeah well Matt my boy, I didn’t enjoy this ride brother….

From here, everything goes completely off the rails. Monday; find Chiropractor. Tuesday; go back to Chiropractor. Karel from Axis Quiropractic was amazing, but I was unfixable. I can’t really walk at this point. Wednesday; long late home cooked lunch with our good friends Matias, Neus and Adela. Alex spends lunch lying prone on the couch on the couch self medicating with an amazing rum from the Canary Islands – a gift from Adela. Sick of my lack of participation by this juncture, they take me to A&E at around 5pm. The hospital filled me up with intravenous pain killers with no effect. Back to the boat; MRI booked for the next morning. Cab back to the hospital the next day. Wise arse cab driver asks me why we didn’t call an ambulance. MRI takes place. I’m admitted to hospital.

At this point I had no idea I’d be spending the next 10 days in said hospital high on Morphine and a cocktail other opioids. They give me 3 “infiltrations“ which are injections deep into the spinal cord. Fucking hideous. You can take your infiltrations and shove them up your nether regions! And I know know that morphine makes you constipated. Badly. How do regular uses deal with that one!

Still can’t walk. No legs since October 16. Living on about 3 hours of interrupted sleep every night. I’m like a pin cushion with multiple IV lines dangling out of my arse. The prognosis? I’ve got a squished disk and a bit of degradation in L4 / L5 (that I had no idea even existed!). The hole in the side of my spine where the nerves come out is so restricted that it’s squeezing the poor wee thing like a python trying to get through the eye of a needle. No wonder I can’t walk. The pain is horrific.

After a week and no real progress it’s time for a change of tack. My wife has had enough of managing me, the yacht (while it’s been blowing 45 knots in the marina), a bunch of Spanish speaking doctors, fighting the insurance company and all the logistics involved in dealing with a medical emergency in a foreign country. She’s exhausted; I’m exhausted and in chronic pain.

She met Sarah and her family on the yacht Elation next door in the Marina. They are from Canada and fate smiled. Sarah is involved in this area of medicine back home. After some research she tells us that Barcelona has some of the best back surgeons in the world in a clinic called Teknon. Sarah was a gift, an angel in our time of need.

It’s Wednesday; I’ve been flat on my back for a week. We swing into action and hit the internet, the phone, the fax, email, telex. I mean shit, I even dispatched a carrier pigeon to Teknon in Barcelona! We were desperate. We hit the jackpot. One of their top back surgeons, Dr Gilete, could make an additional slot for me at the end of his surgery day on Friday. We had 12 hours to get there. And I couldn’t walk, let alone get to an airport and get on a plane.

By midday on Thursday we’d found a helicopter medivac transfer from Palma to Barcelona with an ambulance at each end to get me to and from the airports. We lifted off in about 40 knots of crosswind late on Thursday afternoon and flew towards a very moody and dramatic sunset over Barcelona. We were running late and I wondered if we’d make our touchdown before dark. We didn’t…

A quick meeting with the doc that evening confirmed everything we’d known. They had to go in and hack some of the spine off to free everything up. Lovely. From there everything moved incredibly quickly. Check into the hospital at midday; X-rays and ECG’s. a review of the MRI and by 4pm I was being prepped for surgery.

Now I need to mention at this stage that this is the fist time I’ve ever been in hospital; ever. I’ve never had surgery before. I have a fear of needles. So how was I? Shitting myself was the medical term for my current condition.

The surgery was about two and a half hours, but it took them a couple of hours to wake me up. I was so high on the cocktail of ketamine and god knows what else, and I was having such a good time, I refused to come around. “Alex, Alex” I kept hearing off in the distance. I ignored them for as long as I possibly could. But then they gave methadone. That was worth waking up for. By the time I got back to my room at 10:30pm my wife was worried sick and I was off my face.

No sleep that night. I was like an English teenage in Magaluf after a night with the guy on the corner selling cheep pills and bags of white powder (you’ll need to read my last post for that inside joke).

I’m two days post operative today. I walked pain free for the first time this morning. I walked (slowly) out the front door of the hospital and felt the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. I cried. Tears rolled down my face.

Where to from here? Hopefully I would have outstayed my welcome in hospital by Tuesday and they’ll kick me out. That’s almost two weeks stuck in a bed! Unreal. It seems like a blur but I’m just super excited that end is in sight.

We’ll settle down in Barcelona for a couple of weeks to recover and get ready for a flight back home. My wife has been in 5 different hotels in the last 6 days. She’s had enough of moving around! We still have to get Coco relocated from Palma to Badalona, hopefully mid this week before the next bad weather comes through. I mean if you had the option of a beautiful place in the world to recuperate, wouldn’t you choose Barcelona???

We’ll leave her with Nautor Swan Global Services there for a couple of months and then I’m desperately hoping we can come back in February and sail her down to that wonderful group of islands about 50 miles off the African coast and the Western Sahara, to the winterless Canary Islands, and explore Tenerife, Fuerteventura, Grand Canaria, Lanzarote, La Palma, La Gomera, El Hierro and finally our favourite, La Grasciosa.

From this day on, I think my crew will affectionately refer to me as “The Mediterranean Split Specialist.” It was a pain in the back you’d never forget, but the memories of that comedic ordeal would forever be etched in my mind – and in the logbook of the yacht’s unforgettable moments.

Footnote. My wife is now hiring help for boat cleaning. Feel free to apply 😁.

Big thanks go out to:

• Neus, Matias and Adela from Palma. You need local friends at a time like this and they came through. Big time.
• Pachi and the guys at NSGS for helping Jac out on the boat.
• Karel from Axis Quiropractic in Palma. This guy is good. Totally recommend him.
• The team at Clinica Juaneda in Palma. Thanks for looking after me for a week.
• Sarah from SY Elation. You did elate us.
• Amy and Dr Gilete and the team at Teknon in Barcelona. Just wow. What a team. If ever you never need a back op, go to Barcelona. I can’t speak highly enough of them.
• Sky Tour BCN Chopper’s and your amazing pilot. Legends.
• My wife. Oh my god what a trooper. This one was hard.
• And Maxime. Mate you’ve just sailed from Finland all the way to Palma and your offer to sail Coco back to Badalona is incredible. Even though your girlfriend is going to kill you because you’ve been away for two months 😂. You’ve got balls man.
• And you know? All you bloody amazing sailors out there from around the world who reached out and gave us support just because you share our passion. You’re an amazing community.