Always Look on the Bright Side: Pilates, the Cruise, and the Power of Hope

It’s so easy to sink into a depressive state given the circumstances—but I simply won’t let myself go there. It’s tempting to take every setback to heart and spiral downward. But I choose not to—or at least, I’m trying not to. As Monty Python famously put it: “Always look on the bright side of life.”

Last week, I cancelled a short trip to France with friends. Yesterday, I made the even harder decision to pull out of a dream vacation—a cruise that my wife and I had planned for our joint 50th birthdays. We had already rearranged it once due to the recent war and flight cancellations. I can’t begin to describe how much I was looking forward to that time away with my wife of 28 years.

But the reality is, it’s not the right thing to do. I won’t go into all the details, but I wouldn’t be able to participate in any of the daily tours because I can’t walk. I’d be confined to the boat, leaving my wife to choose between staying with me or going on her own. More importantly, the risk of falling is too great, and the stress for both of us—navigating travel and a relatively small river boat with limited mobility—would be constant. Logically, it makes sense to cancel. Emotionally, it’s incredibly difficult.

So, we came up with a new plan. My wife will go with our daughter instead. I finalized the bookings yesterday—cancelled my flights and booked hers. The trip won’t be wasted. Instead, I get to see my wife and child enjoy a fantastic holiday together.

And I’m genuinely happy about that. It’s like losing a game of chess to my kids—I’m annoyed I lost, but proud they won. My dream is that they surpass me.

In another such move, the friends we had planned to meet in France are now coming here—so again, we’ve hopefully found a way to have as much of the prize as possible.

This is a metaphor for living with PSP. It’s far from ideal, but it’s about making the most of the situation and finding the best way to live with as positive a perspective as possible. I’m not jealous or angry. I’m pleased the trip will go ahead, and even more so that my daughter will benefit.

On a personal level, I’m coming to terms with my increasing lack of mobility. But I’ve decided to step up my fight. I’ve added Pilates to my routine—two sessions a week with a trainer to work my legs, since I’m no longer walking or running. I chose this over swimming. My first session was yesterday, and although it was tough, I’m determined to keep going. This is now part of my routine, alongside daily yoga and a weekly gym session with a trainer.

A couple of years ago, a therapist told me to fight the disease strategically. Back then, it was thought to be Parkinson’s. I was mentally prepared to take it head-on, to battle it at all costs. But she said I was like someone trying to hold back a tsunami—I would only lose. Better to fight smartly, through a well-mounted retreat.

That’s what I’m doing now. The cruise is too risky, and I know it. It’s better to let the people I love enjoy it, while I focus on strengthening myself through exercise and care.

We all decline. As Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, once said: “The descent is part of the ascent.” Decline is part of life’s story, just as much as the climb. I just have to do it faster and earlier than most.

I still have ambition and am not retreating into my shell. I’ve led the community in prayers on the Jewish New Year for years, and I still hope to this year. Walking is a challenge, but I’m confident I have the strength to do it (I can stand with the walker), and I’m going to push myself. But I will retreat gracefully if I have to. That is the nature of the fight.

The key is hope—and hope requires active action. Optimism is more passive. But hope moves.