Traveling With Illnesses Part Two--Managing Limitations

Traveling With Chronic Illness, Part Two: How to Manage Your Energy and Limitations on Vacation

Planning a vacation when you have a chronic illness is one thing. Actually being on that vacation—with unfamiliar beds, long days, lots of walking, different food, changing schedules, and all the excitement that makes you want to keep going—is something else entirely.

In Part One of Traveling With Chronic Illness, I talked about preparing before you leave. But even the best preparation doesn’t guarantee that your body will cooperate once you arrive.

I know that from experience.

I’ve traveled when I felt surprisingly good, and I’ve traveled when my body reminded me very quickly that it had its own plans. I’ve pushed myself because I didn’t want to miss something. I’ve needed help from traveling companions. I’ve spent an entire day of a European vacation in a hotel room resting when there were a hundred things outside that door I wanted to see.

And I’ve learned something important:

Managing your limitations doesn’t ruin a vacation. Ignoring them can.

The goal isn’t to squeeze every possible attraction into every possible day. The goal is to come home feeling like you actually experienced your destination—not like you survived it.

Show Yourself Some Grace

This may be one of the hardest parts of traveling with chronic illness.

Many of us expect more from our bodies than they can realistically give us. I certainly do. At home, I can overextend myself because I want to finish one more thing. On vacation, that temptation becomes even stronger.

You’re somewhere you’ve dreamed about visiting. You’ve spent money to get there. Maybe you don’t know when—or if—you’ll ever return.

Of course you want to see everything.

But your body doesn’t suddenly stop having limitations because you’ve crossed a state line or an ocean.

I’ve had to learn that giving myself grace isn’t the same as giving up. Sometimes it means sitting down when everyone else keeps walking. Sometimes it means skipping an attraction. Sometimes it means changing tomorrow’s plans because today took more out of me than I expected.

The question isn’t, “What should I be able to do?”

It’s, “What can I realistically do today and still enjoy myself?”

That’s a very different way to plan a vacation.

Talk With Your Medical Provider Before You Leave

If you haven’t already done this during the planning stage, talk with your medical provider about the trip you’re taking and what you might encounter.

For me, one of the concerns has been managing flares while I’m away. I know from experience that travel, extra activity, and stress can sometimes aggravate symptoms. Having a plan before I leave gives me one less thing to figure out when I’m tired, hurting, or far from home.

Your plan will depend entirely on your own health and treatment. Ask your medical provider what you should do if your symptoms worsen, what warrants medical attention, and whether there are precautions you should take based on your destination and planned activities.

This isn’t about expecting something to go wrong.

It’s about not having to invent a plan in the middle of a bad day.

Important: Never change medications or treatment based on someone else’s travel experience—including mine. Your medical provider should help you determine what’s appropriate for you.

Know Yourself—and Plan for the Person You Actually Are

Before you fill an itinerary, think about what an ordinary demanding day does to you.

If you spend six hours walking and sightseeing today, what happens tomorrow?

Are you tired but functional? Do you need a slow morning? Does that amount of activity trigger significant pain or fatigue? Do you sometimes feel fine while you’re moving and pay for it hours later?

Those answers matter more than somebody else’s list of the “10 things you have to see.”

Write down the things you most want to experience at your destination. Maybe there are ten. Now identify the five you’d be genuinely disappointed to miss.

Those are your priorities.

Then give those experiences room.

If an attraction supposedly takes two hours, don’t automatically schedule another activity the minute those two hours end. You may need transportation time, a meal, a bathroom break, a place to sit, medication, or simply half an hour when nobody expects anything from you.

Your itinerary needs breathing room.

That’s especially important when your energy isn’t predictable.

If that’s something you struggle with, read How to Plan a Trip When Your Energy Is Unpredictable. I go much deeper there into building a trip around fluctuating energy rather than pretending you’ll know exactly how you’ll feel three weeks from Tuesday.

Don’t Plan Every Minute of Every Day

I would never recommend scheduling every waking minute of a vacation for a healthy person let alone someone with chronic illness.

Leave gaps.

Have lunch without watching the clock. Sit in a café and people-watch. Go back to the hotel for an hour. Wander around a neighborhood without turning it into another sightseeing assignment.

And give yourself permission to change the plan.

One of the best things you can build into an itinerary is something I didn’t always give myself enough of when I first started traveling:

Nothing.

Nothing scheduled. Nothing reserved. Nobody waiting for you.

When you have chronic illness, empty space on an itinerary isn’t wasted space. It’s flexibility.

And flexibility can be what saves the rest of your trip.

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Rest Your Bones

You can plan carefully and still hit a wall.

I certainly have.

During one long trip to Europe, I traveled through Scotland and Ireland before spending time in London. By my third week, I was spent. I’d been in London for about ten days, had attended the Star Wars convention, and friends who had joined me had gone home.

My body was absolutely tired.

And there I was—in London.

The last thing I wanted to do was “waste” a day sitting in a hotel room.

But that’s exactly what I did.

I got takeout, stayed in my room, and watched reruns of Game of Thrones.

Not exactly the glamorous European vacation moment you’d put on Instagram.

It was also one of the smartest decisions I made on that trip.

My body needed the rest, so I gave it the rest. That day allowed me to recharge enough to enjoy the remainder of London and continue on to Paris.

I didn’t lose a day of vacation.

I invested one day in the rest of my vacation.

That distinction has stayed with me.

When your body tells you it’s done, listen. A few hours—or even an entire day—of rest may allow you to enjoy far more of the trip than pushing through until you have nothing left.

Communicate With Your Travel Companions

This can be uncomfortable.

Nobody wants to feel as though they’re slowing everyone else down. You may be tempted to hide how tired you are, how much you’re hurting, or how badly your brain fog is affecting you.

I’ve done that too.

But the people traveling with you can’t respond to something they don’t know is happening.

I learned that very clearly in Japan.

I was dealing with several things physically, including fatigue and brain fog. Japan’s train system was unfamiliar to me, and at one point my traveling companion had to explain the same directions to me repeatedly.

I could feel myself getting frustrated.

Then embarrassed.

I am independent, and I don’t particularly enjoy advertising the things I’m struggling with. Having someone repeat information that I normally would have understood was difficult for me.

Eventually, I had to explain what was happening.

And you know what?

She understood.

She was also sensitive when I was struggling physically and adjusted with me.

That experience taught me that communicating a limitation isn’t asking somebody else to take responsibility for me. It’s giving the person I’m traveling with the information they need to understand what’s happening.

You can read more about my experiences traveling in Japan here:

Visiting Japan--The tail of two vacations in one PART ONE

And if brain fog is something you experience while traveling, I’ve written specifically about that too:

Traveling With Brain Fog: What to Do When Your Brain Stops Cooperating

Relax—It’s a Vacation

Things will go wrong.

You may wake up tired on the day you planned your biggest excursion. Your joints may hurt. The weather may change. Transportation may be delayed. You may get completely turned around in a country you don’t know.

I certainly have.

When I was in London, I decided I wanted to take a trip to Glastonbury. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I got on the wrong train and ended up in Wales.

That was definitely not the plan.

I could have panicked. I could have gotten angry with myself and decided I’d ruined the entire day. Instead, I looked at where I was and thought, Well, I’m here now. What can I do with it?

So I did.

What started as me getting lost turned into an unexpected excursion—and I had a great time. I didn’t get the day I had planned, but I still got a day worth remembering.

That’s one of the things travel has taught me. Sometimes you have to stop fighting the trip you thought you were going to have and start enjoying the one that’s actually happening.

The same thing applies when chronic illness changes your plans. Maybe your body needs a slower day. Maybe an excursion has to be moved. Maybe Plan A simply isn’t going to happen.

That doesn’t automatically make Plan B a disappointment.

Sometimes the detour becomes part of the adventure.

A perfect vacation is an impossible standard. Instead of asking whether everything went according to plan, ask yourself whether you’re still experiencing something worthwhile.

You can’t control every turn your vacation takes. But sometimes you can decide what you do with the turn.

Prepare Your Body for the Trip You’re Actually Taking

I used to think about this as “getting in shape” for a vacation.

I don’t anymore.

For someone living with chronic illness, disability, pain, or limited mobility, “get in shape” can be both unrealistic and unhelpful.

A better question is:

What will this particular trip ask my body to do, and is there anything I can safely do beforehand to prepare for it?

If your trip involves more walking than you normally do, perhaps your medical provider or physical therapist says gradually increasing your walking is appropriate. If you’ll be using a mobility aid, you might practice with it before the trip. If you’ll be wearing new walking shoes, don’t wait until vacation to discover they hurt.

Preparation isn’t about turning yourself into a different person before you leave.

It’s about making the trip easier on the body you’re bringing with you.

And I learned just how much that can matter from two very different vacations.

A Tale of Two Vacations: Europe and Japan

Before my Europe trip, I prepared.

I knew I would spend a tremendous amount of time on my feet, so I paid attention to my shoes and gradually did more walking before I left.

That preparation paid off.

Over the course of the trip, I traveled through Scotland and Ireland, spent time in London and Paris, toured museums, went on excursions, and spent several days at a convention.

I still got tired. I still needed that hotel-room rest day.

Preparation didn’t make chronic illness disappear.

It simply gave my body a better foundation for what I was asking it to do.

Japan was different.

A series of stressful events happened before that trip. Unexpected expenses hit my travel savings. My dog Quinn had an accident that resulted in an emergency veterinary visit, and I took on additional work to rebuild the money I’d lost.

Somewhere in the middle of trying to take care of everything else, I put myself at the bottom of the list. I was working constantly, wasn’t exercising or taking care of myself the way I had before Europe, and I kept pushing.

Then, shortly before I was supposed to leave for Japan, I became extremely tired and noticed my heart was fluttering. When I checked my pulse, it felt weak and thready. I went to the hospital and was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.

I still went to Japan, but now I wasn’t simply managing the chronic illnesses I’d already been living with. I was traveling while also learning how to manage a serious new heart condition. That changed what my body could handle.

Japan involved a tremendous amount of walking. Several times during excursions, I had to stop and rest. By the end of many days I was exhausted, and on several of the 20 days I was there, my feet were swollen. I had to manage all of that while still figuring out what this new diagnosis meant for me.

Even my shoes became a lesson. I’d brought the same pair I’d used in Europe without really considering how much wear they’d already accumulated. They didn’t have the support they once did.

Japan was still an incredible vacation—one of my favorites, in fact.

But looking back, I can see the difference between those two trips.

Before Europe, I had made myself part of the preparation.

Before Japan, life became chaotic, and I put myself last.

That doesn’t mean neglecting myself caused my congestive heart failure. Health is much more complicated than that. But the experience taught me something I haven’t forgotten:

Taking care of yourself before a trip isn’t separate from planning the trip. It is part of the trip.

Preparation doesn’t guarantee you’ll feel wonderful on vacation.

It simply stacks a few more cards in your favor.

Your Chronic Illness Vacation Reality Check

Before you leave—or before you plan tomorrow’s sightseeing—ask yourself:

1. What are my real priorities? Choose the experiences that matter most instead of treating everything as mandatory.

2. What does my body usually do after a demanding day? Plan tomorrow accordingly.

3. Where is the empty space in my itinerary? Give yourself time to rest, eat, sit, recover, or simply enjoy where you are.

4. What will I do if my symptoms flare? Have that conversation with your medical provider before the trip whenever possible.

5. Do the people traveling with me understand what I may need? You don’t have to explain every detail of your health, but sharing important limitations can prevent misunderstandings.

6. Have I prepared for the physical demands of this particular trip? Think about walking, standing, stairs, transportation, heat, altitude, and anything else your destination may require.

7. Am I willing to change the plan? Sometimes Plan B—or a day doing absolutely nothing—is what allows the vacation to continue.

The Vacation Doesn’t Have to Look Like Everyone Else’s

Traveling with chronic illness has taught me that I can’t always travel the way someone else does.

And that’s okay.

I can rest in London. I can ask someone to repeat directions in Japan. I can sit down while somebody else keeps walking. I can choose five experiences instead of ten. I can accidentally end up in Wales and decide to see what Wales has to offer.

I can change tomorrow because of how I feel today.

None of those things make the trip less meaningful.

The point isn’t to prove how much your body can tolerate.

The point is to experience the world in a way that allows you to enjoy being there.

Your trip. Your body. Your pace.

Get there your way.

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If you’ve ever wondered whether travel can still fit a life with chronic illness, limited energy, or a limited budget, that’s exactly why The Single, Sick & Broke Traveler exists.

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Medical disclaimer: The information in this article is based on personal experience and is provided for general informational purposes only. It is not medical advice and should not replace advice from your physician or other qualified healthcare professional. Talk with your medical provider about your individual health needs before traveling, changing your activity level, or making changes to medications or treatment.

Me in Hakone, Japan 2025

Me in Versailles, France 2023

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