When we visited Burnie a few days ago, Tom dropped me off at the Chemist Discount Center while he circled around to find a place to park. It felt like a simple errand at the time, one of those small tasks that fills in the spaces between drives along the coast and quiet afternoons at our temporary home. But as I walked through the aisles, basket in hand, I realized this stop carried a bit more weight than usual. We were not just picking up a few items. We were preparing, cautiously and thoughtfully, for what lies ahead.

With our upcoming cruise on Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas, sailing on April 14, the memory of our last voyage still lingers. That cruise, which ended on December 13, tested us in ways we had not expected. Between the two of us, we managed to get sick three separate times, each with a different virus. It felt relentless at the time, as if just when we had turned a corner and begun to feel like ourselves again, another wave would hit. One of those bouts did not even surface until a few days after we had arrived in Kaiwaka, a reminder that these viruses have their own timelines, unfolding when we least expect them.

We are, of course, bringing along three-dose packages of Tamiflu. It offers a measure of reassurance, knowing that if we act quickly at the first hint of symptoms, it may lessen the severity. We have learned to pay close attention to those early signals. A scratchy throat, a runny nose, or that faint cough that makes you pause for a moment. But we also know its limitations. If we miss that narrow window, it becomes little more than something taking up space in our luggage. That understanding has shifted our focus toward prevention, toward doing what we can before illness ever has a chance to take hold.

Our friend Salli, who joined us from Hobart last weekend, shared a few practical suggestions that we immediately took to heart. She has always had a sensible approach to these things, grounded in experience rather than worry. The items she recommended now sit neatly arranged, ready to be packed, each one representing a small step toward staying well.

We picked up two cans of Glen 20 Disinfectant Spray, something we had never used before. There is something oddly comforting about the idea of spraying the air in our cabin, especially the air conditioner, each time we return on the 25-night cruise. Whether it makes a measurable difference or simply offers peace of mind, we are willing to give it a try. Sometimes, it is the act itself that brings a sense of control.

Alongside that, we purchased large packs of Dettol Antibacterial Wipes. Each day, we plan to wipe down the surfaces we are most likely to touch. The phone, the television remote, door handles, and any other spot that countless others have handled before us. It is easy to forget just how many hands come and go in a single cabin over time. The smaller packets will travel with us when we leave the room, tucked into a bag or pocket, ready to be used before meals or after touching railings and menus.

We have already decided to avoid the buffet as much as possible. It is tempting, of course, with its wide selection and easy access, but it also invites too much sharing of surfaces and utensils. Tom often comments on the menus handed out in the dining room, noting how many people must touch them throughout the day. This time, we will either wipe them down or find a way to read them without handling them directly. It may seem excessive to some, but after our last experience, it feels like a reasonable adjustment.

We also picked up packets of Lemsip, something to have on hand should symptoms begin despite our efforts. Along with rest and hydration, it may help ease the discomfort while we take further steps.

Of course, the basics remain at the center of it all. We will wash our hands often, more times than we can count. We will think twice before pressing elevator buttons or stepping into a crowded lift. Public restrooms, when avoidable, will be just that. Avoided. These small decisions, repeated throughout each day, will shape our chances of staying healthy.

Our cabin on the 10th deck offers a balcony, something we always appreciate for the fresh air and the chance to step outside without leaving our space. I wish I could rely on the stairs more often, but my legs have their limits. Elevators will be part of our daily routine, whether we like it or not, and so we will navigate them as carefully as we can.

As much as we enjoy these larger ships, this will likely be the last time we sail on one of this size. With over four thousand passengers, the scale is impressive but also comes with its challenges. Looking ahead, we feel more comfortable with the smaller, more intimate experience offered by Azamara, where the number of guests is far more manageable.

For now, we move forward with a bit more awareness, a bit more preparation, and a quiet hope that this next journey will be a healthier one. That is all any of us can do, really.

Be well.