To Climb a Mountain

There is a specific kind of madness that takes hold when you stare at a 14,000ft mountain peak at two in the morning. Your headlamp is on the blink, your lungs are questioning your life choices, and at some point you’re fairly certain your feet, nay, your legs have entered a formal separation agreement with the rest of your body.

For years, conquering 14-ers in the Rockies was my metric of summer success. Scrambling over scree, enduring soggy boggy feet, freezing digits, getting lost, lightning strikes, dodging the mountains landlords, (the salt obsessed long-horned goats), while talking and whistling to marmots for good cheer, all to eventually, stand on the summit for a brief, glorious moment, when you are the monarch of all you survey (even if being held up by your trekking poles and sustained by a small a squashed peanut butter bar). There was one occasion when I even did two 14-ers in one day! Grays and then Torres Peak.

While on sick leave I’ve been looking at old photos, updating my Google guide and I came to realise two things. One, I haven’t stayed home this long since Covid, and it’s not good for your health and two, that my current everyday woes like walking and the stairs, trying to convince a demanding dog who wants to play that he doesn’t, alongside the ever baffling mystery of where my phone has gone in any given moment and why the heck is everything you need somewhere else? Over the last couple of week, these have been their own kind of climb and honestly they are requiring just as much grit! Whether you are scaling The Quandary Peak or trying to navigate lifes everyday hurdles it's all remarkably similar really isn't it.

Just like on the mountains, in life we often get so driven by the reward of reaching the top that the journey and at times the incredible view also not to mention how far you have come gets neglected. 

I've realised these past few weeks that the trick is to treat everyday woes, whatever they are, for today, its captivity and recovery but tomorrow who knows, it’s highly likely a new set of challenges are awaiting me, so my resolve is to stand on the narrow ledge, breathe, find my footing, and just don't look down or too far ahead. Just be here now. Be in this precise moment.

For sure, if bagging eight 14ers taught me anything, it’s that suffering is always funnier in retrospect and the heartwarming truth is of course, the growth is always in the resilience of the journey and the summit is but a brief moment that comes to pass. Today, I confess my peaks look a bit different, let’s say, smaller, flatter, but the important thing, in my humble view, is to let your spirit climb high!

Navigating Extended Sick Leave

I am writing this weeks blog to embrace the absurdity of my own perceived indispensability. I’m currently moving with the agonising hesitation of shy snail while trying to synchronize my body and brain to just surrender to being on extended sick leave. This is a new one for me.

The real danger right now? Myself, and the lingering delusion that I have the capacity to do regular things or even just check a few work messages.

But tbh the medical decree is keeping me straight as it was somewhat terrifyingly binary. Take two weeks of stillness now or face weeks (or even worse months) of recovery.

Every time I think, "I’ll just do” I have to tell myself that I am physically sabotaging my own healing. But did you know you can literally think yourself into staying broken? Stressing spikes cortisol, which to healing tissues is like trying to rebuild a house during a hurricane. 

The traps are everywhere though and I do find myself considering just a little WFH during this extended sick leave as a virtuous compromise of sorts. It really is hard to stay out the loop and not worry about all the work you will face on return. In reality though it is not recommended. Just an hour of work isn't just an hour. It’s a massive draw on glucose and oxygen reserves that my immune system needs to rebuild. In short, I'm hindering not helping myself here.

Despite the specialist telling me the Cayman Islands won’t sink in my absence LOL I admit I am feeling a social cost too. I am missing my friends, my routines, going out and being present, the FOMO is real! I also worry others at work are judging my empty chair…And so the value of genuine "Get Well" messages and a bouquet of flowers cannot be underscored strongly enough these feel like legitimate medical interventions that tell my nervous system it’s safe to heal. Messages are like a digital weighted blanket, that aren’t just nice, they’re neurologically helping me knit myself back to wellness!

All tips for surviving another week of captivity welcome!

A Love Emergency

I saw the heart shaped box of chocolates slip into the house weeks ago and my heart and soul inwardly smiled. From our sun-drenched slice of paradise with the cool Caribbean breeze rustling the palms, one might be tempted to think that when love is in the air it is merely a matter of tropical humidity and a particularly good sunset. But for some of us, love doesn't just hang in the air, it hijacks the whole body. 

So when just last Sunday night my left hip decided to go on an unscheduled, indefinite strike, rendering me about as mobile as a decorative garden statue I can tell you that true romance is not found in a box of chocolates it is found instead in the cramped, fluorescent-lit confines of the hospital emergency corridor. One minute I was doing life and the next, I was in a state of acute, horizontal bewilderment (again? IKR!) 

After insisting to my husband that my mobility may return as acutely as it vanished I was later forced to admit ice and rest wasn’t the answer and something quite bad had happened and I needed medical help. 

In the emergency room while my nervous system was busy following instructions and doing tests my husband was busy staging a peaceful (and permanent) occupation by my side. In a display of devotion that would make the most loyal golden retriever look like an indifferent stranger, he did not leave my side. Not for a coffee. Not for a stretch. Not for the sake of hospital protocol. Not for one single minute.

The facts is that we simply are a two-person unit. When the doctors and nurses did their rounds, he was the silent adjutant, and when nature called, as it does, (especially when you can’t walk), he took me and we went together and there he stayed right by my side.

There is a specific kind of intimacy that is forged in the clinical coldness of acute emergency care, his presence was the warmth that kept my own spirits upbeat. He wasn't just my support system, he was my external nervous system, providing the stability my own body had temporarily misplaced. 

So, this February 14th, I must acknowledge I’ve already had the best gift a person could ask for, a partner who sees "in sickness and in health" not as a vow, but as a literal, minute-by-minute directive.

To the man who stands by me, sits by me, and wheels me in a true ride or die fashion you are my heart and my everything! Always, all the better for being together!

I just love 14th February when as a community we find ourselves back in the grips of explicitly showing our  love, so enjoy the ride, the heart shaped chocolates and revel in the dopamine! 

A Cold Affront

When the mercury in the Cayman Islands plummets to a chilly 74°F, the island undergoes a transformation that would likely baffle any other human. Suddenly, the flip-flops are kicked aside and locals unearth winter wardrobes usually reserved for their vacations abroad. Cold is, I believe, a state of mind, a bit of brain chemistry, and occasionally, a great excuse to wear a very cute knit sweater, a cozy hat, bed socks to walk the dog and even a tropical hoodie or two.

Neuroscience would say, our brains are less like thermometers and more like highly biased editors. We possess thermoreceptors in our skin that don't just measure absolute temperature, they measure change! Yup! Thermal adaptation is real my friends! If your baseline like mine is a humid 90°F, a 15 degree drop triggers a cold signal to the hypothalamus that is indistinguishable from the panic a Londoner feels when it hits freezing. 

When you live in a perpetual steam room, a 15-degree drop isn't just refreshing, it can present a biological emergency, for instance for my colleague this week declared themselves depressed by the temperature! (read: under the weather). Our brains have a built-in internal predictive model of what normal feels like and on a small island, when a "Nor’wester" blows in, it breaks our internal tropical contract. The brain reacts to this deviation by screaming for a help (read: sweater, blanket, SOS), regardless of the fact that the rest of the world calls 74°F perfectly toasty weather.

Perceptions of cold around the globe are quite fascinating! Check out these Locations | Temperatures | Local Reactions 

Norway | 14°F | "Perfect for a brisk outdoor nap." (Hygge culture) 

London | 41°F | "Stiff upper lip, just a bit dampish." 

Canada | 32°F | “Beautiful day for a light jog in shorts”

New York | 32°F | "Why do I live here? I'm moving to Cayman." 

Siberia | -22°F | “The vodka is starting to slush, best bring out a hat”

Grand Cayman | 74°F | "Break out the layers and the hot cocoa, it's chilly outside.”

To a born Brit like myself after 18 years in the Caribbean I am ruined for life, you will definitely find me scurrying for a pashmina while tourists from Toronto are still doing cannonballs into the pool!

In my view, there is nothing quite so dignified as going local in a turtleneck or stockings when the sun is still technically capable of causing heatstroke to any visiting tourist. I wore both my stockings and then my thermal turtle neck this week, no lie! While I joke about the fashion, a cold front brings a real shift … The Sea? The normally placid western shores of Seven Mile Beach turn into a churning washing machine and the cruise ships cannot dock in George Town. Then there is the vibe? The humidity vanishes, and the island exhales. It’s the one time of year we can walk to lunch, well tbh walk anywhere, without arriving looking like we’ve just swam there. We can keep our windows open! And we take relish with utter delight at the prospect of a lower utility bill come the month end. Our cars are not ovens and we can run a lunch time errand without fear of passing out.

Deep down, our upbeat island nature thrives on this change. Psychologically, sweater weather allows for social signalling, it’s a beautiful shared cultural moment. We get to banter in the office about the chilly weather together, which is its own form of community building.

Whether you’re in a cold culture, where frost is a badge of honour, isolated and cut off by a snow drift, or on a tiny island where a 70°F night is a legitimate reason to add extra blankets and stay indoors, our perception of weather is absolutely fascinating. It’s not at all about the number on the dial, it’s about how we collectively feel?

It’s a gift that gives us a reason to pivot from our usual upbeat empathy to a shared, slightly theatrical fun exchange as we huddle and discuss the chill. We offer each other warmth with a smile that says, it’s the thrill of the change! On an island where the seasons are "Hot" “Hotter” and "Slightly Less Hot," we for the most part truly embrace the odd cold front!