The world is still here.
Travel as a skill, not a flex.
Traveling with a chronic illness isn’t reckless. Traveling as a caregiver isn’t selfish. It is one of the most life-affirming things you can do, and it is also a real skill — the kind you earn the hard way. This is the section of Anyway Life where I share what I’ve learned about going anyway: how to pace it, plan it, pack for it, and stop waiting for a body or a season that may not arrive.
It will never be the perfect time. Go anyway.
I have traveled through fifteen years of chronic illness. I have traveled in the year after a heart attack. I have traveled while caregiving and I have traveled because of the caregiving. Some of those trips were exactly what I needed. A few of them I shouldn’t have done. Most of them — the great majority — I am glad I went.
The biggest thing I’ve learned is that “waiting until I feel better” is not a plan. It is a deferral, and the deferral compounds. A body that’s living with chronic illness or aging or grief doesn’t reliably return to a baseline that lets you start. The trip becomes part of how you live with the body, not a reward for fixing it.
The second-biggest thing I’ve learned is that travel with all of this happening is its own skill. You learn it by doing it imperfectly. The pacing math, the medication logistics, the accessibility intel, the contingency plans, the right kind of trip for the season you’re in. None of it is intuitive. All of it is learnable. That’s what this section is for.
Six things I figured out the hard way.
Not a framework. Just the honest list of what I’ve come to know about traveling anyway.
Pacing is the trip
How many active hours per day, how many rest days, how many time zones, how steep the schedule. The math you have to do before you book anything else — and the math nobody else will do for you.
Medications travel
Carry-on rules, time-zone math for scheduled doses, what to bring extra of, what your pharmacy can and can’t do, refrigeration on planes and trains, and what to do if a bag is lost.
Accessibility is information
How to research a place before you go — the real elevator count, the real cobblestones, the real distance from the cruise dock to the bus. Not what the brochures say. What people who have been there actually report.
Insurance & contingencies
Travel medical insurance for international trips, trip cancellation for unpredictable health, evacuation coverage if you need it, and the boring but critical paperwork that makes a hard week abroad survivable.
The right trip for the season
A cruise is not a road trip is not a backpacking week. Some trips fit a flare; some don’t. Choosing the right shape of trip for the body and the life you have right now is the most underrated skill in this entire category.
When things go sideways
Because they will. The flare on day three, the medication left in the hotel safe, the missed connection, the food that disagrees, the emergency room in a foreign country. What to do, what to carry, what to know before you need to know it.
“Waiting until I feel better is not a plan. The body becomes part of how you travel, not the thing you fix first.”
— Heather
Ten trips, honestly told.
Each of these is a place I’ve actually been — with chronic illness, post-heart-attack, while caregiving, or some combination. The notes are what I’d say to a friend who asked me “could I do this?”
Sedona
High desert, dry air, gentle vortex hikes that scale to whatever energy you have that day. Good for low-impact pacing if you build in afternoon rest. Easy to combine with the Grand Canyon.
The Grand Canyon
The South Rim is genuinely accessible — you can drive up, look, eat, look again, and never break a sweat. The trails go from “flat boardwalk” to “rim-to-rim punishing.” Pick the level that fits the day you’re in.
Moab to Denver by train
The California Zephyr through the Rockies. One of the most accessible long-distance scenic trips on the continent — you’re seated, fed, and watching the West go by. Great for travelers who can’t do long days of walking.
Norway
Long summer days, calm pace, excellent infrastructure, and a culture that doesn’t rush you. Walking-heavy, but well-paced if you let it be. The fjords reward slow travel; trying to do this fast is a mistake.
Scotland
Train-friendly, gentle on chronic-illness energy if you build days right. Edinburgh and Glasgow are both walkable in pockets; the Highlands reward staying put in one B&B and doing day trips rather than packing and unpacking.
European cruise
One bed, multiple countries, your medications stay put. Underrated for chronic illness because the logistical burden drops dramatically once you’re on board. You can skip a port and rest with no penalty.
Caribbean cruise
Short, warm, ports easy to skip. A great first-cruise trial if you’re unsure whether this format works for your body. Sea days are some of the most restorative travel days I’ve had.
San Diego
Mild climate, walkable pockets, excellent medical infrastructure within reach if you need it. A good destination for cautious first international-feeling travel — or for anyone wanting beach without the long flight.
Hawaii
The flight is long; the trip is worth it. Pace the islands, don’t chase them. Pick one island and stay, or pick two and budget travel days between them. Time-zone math matters here.
Paris
Walkable, transit-rich, beautiful, but the cobblestones are real and so is the metro’s lack of elevators. Book central, plan rest days, and prioritize one neighborhood deeply over five neighborhoods lightly.
Some trips you shouldn’t take.
Travel costs you something — energy, money, the post-trip flare that can land you in bed for a week. Sometimes the cost is right. Sometimes it isn’t. The skill is being honest about which is which.
I have come home from trips that wrecked me physically and were still worth it. I have also come home from trips I shouldn’t have taken, and the cost outweighed the experience, and I had to sit with that. The way you learn the difference is not by avoiding the question. It’s by asking it honestly each time: what is this trip for, what will it cost me, and is that exchange the right one for the season I’m in?
That’s the conversation Travel Anyway tries to make easier. Not pep talks. Not “you can do it!” without context. Honest accounting and practical knowledge, so the decisions you make are your own.