“Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all those familiar comforts of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things. Air, sleep, dream, the sea, the sky — all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.”

Cesare Pavese

[EDIT: This blog took me a while to write, and I don’t know why. Maybe because I fear the opinion of others or fear discrimination. Maybe I fear that writing about traveling will jinx me in my future endeavors. Or maybe I just don’t like writing about my life all together because it’s a very personal thing to write about. Somehow, for me, poems and lyrics are less personal than say a diary entry. But I digress… back to your regularly scheduled monologue….]

This year, I have been blessed enough to go on two trips within two weeks of each other. The first being Chicago, and then New York City; two major loves of mine (see photos). J’adore cities of movement, art, culture, food, and beauty. I was born a dreamer, someone who loves to move and do and see and create. But by nature I have been forced into a body of a realist, one who speculates and takes precautions, and hesitates. I would love to be more spontaneous, but my body and my lifestyle won’t necessarily allow it. Therefore, when I am given the opportunity to be frivolous just a little bit, I jump. Pourquoi pas? Ce la vie.

There are a few concerns that arise concerning traveling with a chronic illness. The primary one I think of is this: what are the benefits of traveling versus the negative side effects that will inevitably follow? Basically I define this as quality of life over quantity. CF does not take a break, even on vacation. But sometimes I need to take a break from my monotonous life.

I choose quality.

I don’t live a life of grandeur. Nor do I wish to. But I do want my life to be made of fond memories, not mediocrity. I strive to be more than mediocre. More than myself. And more than my disease.

Of course, I take precautions. I travel with a mask on the airplane, and take as many Vitamin C’s and Zinc’s as I can before & during the trip to build up my immune system. I stock up on antibiotics before in case I need some. I travel with my entire pill case. I try to get as much sleep as possible (although sometimes that is uncontrollable). It’s come to the point where I might even need to travel with a portable oxygen tank. Who knows.

If I get into a coughing fit, I stop & catch my breath, take my inhaler, and then keep going. I make my friends stop on the Brooklyn Bridge and walk slower so I can keep up. Vacation doesn’t stop…..I just reap the side effects later.

This is the formula in my head:

Traveling improves quality of life.

Life > Disease

~therefore~

Traveling > Disease

This might get scrutinized because some people might put ‘disease before traveling’ or ‘bettering ones health over quality of life’. But I tend to disagree with these people. My travel days may be limited, but my quality of life sure as hell won’t be.

The second part of traveling with a chronic illness is making sure you have good traveling buddies with you & who understand your limitations, yet push you to your uncomfortability simultaneously (it’s a fine line) (also, uncomfortability is a made up word). There’s a part of me, and there will always be a part of me, that deals with anxiety. And travel anxiety is a real thing. I am uncomfortable at times, or nervous about flying, or weary of wearing myself out. But when you have people in your life and on your travels that can ease those thoughts, it helps a great deal. Traveling with CF brings a lot of uncomfortable attention my way. For example: when you’re on an airplane and you can’t stop coughing, people tend to look at you funny or wish you’d go away. Or when you purge all over yourself, and in the walkway, and on some other mans shoes, people also tend to look at you funny (this literally happened to me, y’all). Or when your friends want to continue going out after 10pm (cuz you’re on vacation, duh), but you’re literally so tired that you have to bail and go back to the hotel so you can get some rest, that’s uncomfortable too. Just like a child off their home routine when on vacation, I also lose my head and don’t know how to properly vacation because I need my routine back home.

I’m not going to sit here and say I’m the best at handling my disease. I’m not. I tend to rather ignore it from time to time. And on vacation, I really try to ignore it, because I’m just trying to be like everyone else. Last Christmas while on vacation, I had a cold. And I ignored it to the point to where it literally put me in the hospital when I got home from expending all my resources towards the trip. Knock on wood (***) I have not been in the hospital since, nor do I plan on it any time soon. So hopefully these two trips haven’t pushed me over the edge, because I’m leaving again this weekend and I plan on traveling more later this year. Fingers crossed.

This isn’t something I get over or that I graduate from. It’s not something that I can move on from. And it shouldn’t be. It will always be a part of me. Instead, I just live day to day. That’s all I can do. I can’t plan way into the future (that’s depressing). And I can’t think about my past either. I live in the grey area of today and maybe tomorrow. And I’m trying my best. Maybe my best isn’t good enough compared to some others, but it’s fine for me right now. Traveling is indeed a brutality, but I have the sea, and the sky, and my dreams.

-memento mori