My parents - Jim and Diana - are in their mid-sixties and just sailed from Mexico to Hawaii. Less than half way into their 16 day journey their auto-helm failed. It's very difficult to explain to non-sailors just what this means, but suffice it to say it's a tremendous physical and mental achievement. Though they've crossed the ocean many times in their boat Prufrock, I'm very proud of them for surviving this trip. From my mom:

Jim's color didn't look so good to me that first couple of days, and I had a panic attack on the first night (it was very dark, no moon, no stars, and with nothing but the compass to stare at we think I suffered from sensory depravation (if I'd been Patty Hearst in that closet I would have been a blithering idiot in 10 minutes; not a good POW candidate).  The next day we pushed the bimini back and that helped, and then the moon returned.  The nights were still pretty rocky.  The whole trip was dead down wind so we were always on the edge of the gybe.  If you were on watch you were worried; if you were off watch trying to get your blessed 1.5  hours of sleep you were alert to every sound the mainsail would make and so weren't getting your rest.  Fortunately our fuel requirements were very low so we had enough fuel to motor through the next 5 nights (6-8 hours got us through the bulk of the darkness).  There was plenty of wind for sailing, and driving in the big waves was still a challenge keeping the boat on course, but we didn't have to worry about the gybe and the offwatch could just get comatose.  The little whistle back at the helm to call for help was a joke -- couldn't reach it, couldn't blow it couldn't hear it.  We don't use an air horn but we do have that mouthpiece for a tuba (I think) and that usually worked.  I always woke up pretty much on time (Jim would give me an extra 15 minutes oh blessed 15 minutes you can't imagine how wonderful an extra 15 minutes can be), but he would get into deep sleep and wouldn't hear the horn -- a couple of times I had to leave the helm, jump over the travellor, blow the thing at the companion way, leap back to the helm and find that I was more than 100 degrees off course. But he go up.

The fact is that the human mind and body can adjust to unbelievable change and challenge. It got to be OK.  We enjoyed driving the boat -- we remembered why we bought this boat in particular -- driving downwind under reefed or doublereefed main in big waves and moderate wind.  There was even some surfing!

The last day we had plenty of big wind.  Double reefed. Diana panicked a bit when the wind got to 25 with the big waves.  Jim manned up and from 6 am 'til we docked at 3:30 we didn't have any "offwatch".  Jim would drive and I would spell him when the wind/wave combo was down where I felt comfortable.  As the hours went by my comfort level increased and I was driving in increasing wind. As we rounded Ilio point to cross the channel to Diamond Head we were concerned, but even though we had sustained winds of 30 plus the waves never got too large so we just charged across.  Jim would drive 20 minutes, I would drive 10 (or more if the wind was down a bit).  It was beautiful!  We were hoping that things would moderate once we got around the corner but it was still blowing better than 25 K as we flew past Waikiki and the Royal Hawaiian. It was still blowing 25 when we had to turn into the wind (the reef is RIGHT THERE) to lower the main.  And it was still blowing 25 knots as we entered the channel.  But boy oh boy was it great to pass the Hawaii YC and see our friend Dave walking down to B dock at Waikiki YC to help us tie and great us with leis and ice. 

Calloused, bruised, but victorious
Love
Diana and Jim

We have experienced 4 years of almost complete normalcy.  This is such a shock to Amelia and me to be back at the hospital face to face with the imperfections of her heart.  I was told it would happen, but I allowed myself to believe maybe we could escape it.  I was not prepared for this at all...she has just been so wonderfully normal...  I need to come to terms with the fact that we will be in and out of the hospital with her for all of her life.  Once I accept that...and she accepts that, this probably won't be as hard, still hard, but not as hard...hopefully.  Because Amelia was so young the last time she was in the hospital, this experience has been very hard on her - she has no memory of being here and she begs to go home and see Cormac and Zack.

Amelia is in the hospital tonight with Julia. Not an emergency, but urgent. Last week her pediatrician noticed an irregular heart beat. Today her doctors at Children's Hospital determined it is caused by scar tissue from the surgery four years ago. As she grows her heart is changing, and the electrical signal is now telling the heart to beat too fast. Tomorrow morning at 730 am her doctors are going to shock her heart and try to reset it, and then she'll likely be on a long-term drug regimen to stay healthy. She'll be in the hospital for two more nights for observation.

It was a bit lonely tonight putting Zack to bed by himself. Only one set of pajamas, one toothbrush, one book. We both prayed for a successful procedure tomorrow, and asked that she be able to come home soon.