The trip from Kumai to Singapore was uneventful, apart from the weather and my skirmish with ill-health. You may know from a previous report, that we were advised by the British Embassy in Djakarta not to land in Kumai, as Southern Kalimantan was a known trouble-spot, although in the event all the boats that did visit Kumai had a fabulous time, with no political problems, and the Orangutan reserve was unforgettable. But if we had gone there, my health problems would have developed in an even more inaccessible area than they in fact did, and I dread to think what might then have happened, so skipping Kumai was really a bonus.

The distance from Kumai to Singapore was about 700 miles, and we had already used up a lot of fuel covering the 300 miles from Bali to Kalimantan. Unfortunately, we were plagued by no wind, an adverse current of up to 2 knots, and occasional fierce squalls coming through, so fuel became a serious issue - hence my slightly scary adventure with the Indonesian fishing boat.. The other problem was to be the broken engine on Mazy, which involved us towing her the last 150 miles, just as I was becoming ill. But most of the time the weather was fine and swelteringly hot, so we were enjoying ourselves.

I'll describe some details of my illness, but those of you who are non-medical, or of a squeamish disposition might like to skip the next section. (It's very medical - full of jargon!)

The first hint of trouble came when we were about 300 miles from Singapore, ie, 2 ½ days sailing/motoring. During my evening watch from 8 to 11, I began to develop dysuria and unbelievably extreme frequency, and what seemed a complete inability to empty my bladder. As soon as I had had a pee, I immediately had to go again, only passing dribbles, and never emptying properly. I assumed I had an atypical UTI, and started myself on an antibiotic (amoxicillin - I didn't have much of a selection on board) As I was dog-tired, I lay on my bunk and slept on and off for a couple of hours. When I woke at 0100 I was in a dreadful state - an absolutely uncontrollable urge to pee, and a complete inability to do so. This went on for a few dreadfully agitated hours before I came to the reluctant conclusion that I was in acute retention - at this stage I had not developed any loin-pain. Fortunately we had a couple of catheters with us, along with all the other gear for this eventuality, but could we find it? With me becoming increasingly desperate, we turned the boat upsde-down, but couldn't locate it. We really didn't know what to do. Then we remembered that out friends on Mazy, only a mile or so behind us, had a very comprehensive medical kit on board, and when we spoke to them on the VHF they confirmed that a catheter was included. I nearly cried with relief. We arranged a boat-to-boat transfer, which was quite tricky as it was dark and a big swell running.

Then came the bit I was dreading, but I was in such a state by then that I was past caring, and just wanted relief from my pain. Mie was understandably reluctant to pass the catheter, so it became a do-it-yourself job, and not very well done I must confess. The boat was rolling all over the place, we didn't have the right instruments, and there wasn't too much sterility involved. Even squeezing in the anaesthetic and lubricant gel was a minor triumph! To my astonishment and disappointment, when I stuck the catheter in there was no hint of the amber liquid that I was so keen to see. The catheter was a very fine, non-self retaining one, and I guessed it had bounced back off my prostate, so I attempted to pass another one: again no result. By now I felt I was running into serious trouble, and there was no one within 200 miles to help me, so my last throw was to get a green needle and 20cc syringe, and pushed it suprapubically into my presumed distended bladder - again nothing yellow (and fortunately nothing brown!!!!) What the heck was I to do next. And then I for the first time began to develop severe colicky pain in my right loin, and Mie came down from the cockpit to find me rolling around on the cabin floor with yet another form of agony! However, then the diagnostic penny began to drop - maybe I wasn't in retention, but had a stone stuck in my right lower ureteric orifice - actually I didn't diagnose it entirely unaided, I rang Ed Palfrey, who was incredibly helpful despite being woken at 0200, and was thereafter a fantastic support with advice and reassurance. He thought my extreme oliguria was due to dehydration, which it undoubtedly was - the temperature on deck was in the mid 30s, and it was much hotter in the cabin. The only appropriate analgesia I had was diclofenac, which made no difference whatsoever to my pain, and unfortunately I then began to vomit with the uncontrolled pain, and simply couldn't keep any fluid down.

The whole situation was now made worse, when Mazy 's engine broke down, and we had to start towing her the remaining 150 miles to Singapore, much of it through difficult waters with lots on unlit Indonesian fishing boats. Mie and Inge from Mazy did a fantastic job, with me offering token help between attacks of colic. During this time I completely stopped peeing, and when I developed a fever and began to shake it was clearly time to consider evacuation from the boat. My son Harry, who had once worked as a doctor for a repatriation company, was a fantastic help, liaising with my insurance company, both in London and in Singapore, and pressing them when necessary. Initially they said they could send a helicopter to pick me up, but then it turned out that all Singaporean helicopters were grounded due to 11 September. They then offered an Indonesian helicopter, but that would have meant admission to a hospital in the wilds of Sumatra, and we decided in the end to get to the Island of Bintan as soon as possible and carry out repatriation by high-speed launch. We eventually reached the town of Tanjung Pinang, about 60 miles from Singapore, where I was picked up by a doctor in a chartered speed-boat, and I was then transferred to Singapore in a little over an hour - an absolutely hair-raising journey, bouncing over the waves at an amazing speed - the hammering was so fierce I enquired if the trip was transport or therapy!

To cut a long story short, I was rushed to Mount Elizabeth Hospital off Orchard Road (a 550 bed state of the art private hospital,) and within an hour had been clerked by the Urologist, had my biochemistry and haematology checked, had my KUB and spiral CT and the diagnosis was made - there was indeed a stone jammed in the ureteric orifice, and a lot of streaking round my right kidney. However, my elevated creatinine and depressed creatinine clearance meant they wouldn't carry out immediate intervention, but gave me i/v antibiotics, and major fluid replacement, which started me peeing again - agony, but a wonderful sensation after almost three days without. And the pethidine - WOW!!!!.

A couple of days later, they took me to theatre, dilated my stenosed lower ureter, in the process dislodging the stone proximally, where they couldn't find it, but they inserted a double J pigtailed stent between kidney and bladder, the theory being that the ureter would dilate up and allow the stone to pass. Unfortunately, I continued to have really severe strangury, so after three days the stent was removed - and wonder of wonders the stone pinged into the lou where I retrieved it as though it was a gold-nugget. (My Urologist's name was Dr Ping!).

My post operative recovery was complicated by persistent painful clot-colic, but by this time I was so fed up staring at the four walls of my hospital room, not to mention driven to distraction by CNN, that they allowed me out, and my insurance company put us up in a very nice hotel in Orchard Road where we spent three very painful days, self administering pethidine as required. Eventually I stopped passing blood and detritus, and the situation resolved.

While I was in hospital, Mie and Inge had towed Mazy up to Nongsa Pt Marina, on the north of Batam Island in Indonesia, and once I was fit to leave the Island, we went to Nongsa, and as soon as Jofric had sorted out his engine, we moved up to the Republic of Singapore Yacht Club, a very swish establishment.

Since then we have moved up the Malaysian Coast, and are now in Admiral Marina, another very up-market marina, about 40 miles from Kuala Lumpur.

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