Every year my campus ministry puts on a retreat in West Virginia where 300 college students get together for a weekend in February. The weekend is packed with fun activities, meals, panels, lessons, and time to get to know other college students. Sounds fun, right? Put simply, the answer is yes. When you have a condition that limits your functioning daily, the answer becomes less simple.
Traveling has not always been hard for me. My mom's side of the family lives in Indiana, which is an 8 hour drive from my home in Washington D.C. Besides being in a car for 8 hours with my brother and fighting over who gets the middle seat, this trip had never been too hard. With my current health problems, almost every aspect of a car trip has been challenging.
Let's think about this in terms of my most recent trip to Indiana with my family in December. We pull out of our suburb and merge onto the highway. An hour into the drive, and I knew that my stomach is getting angry and we need to pull over right away. However, there is no place on the highway for the next 50 miles or so to pull over. This happens 5 more times during the 10 hour drive. Next, it's time for lunch. My family debates over whether we should stop at the rest stop that has Sbarro and McDonald's or the rest stop that has Popeyes and Panera Bread. I just sit there knowing there was no point in debating because regardless of which rest stop we went to, I was not going to be eating.
Now you must be thinking, "well how about flying? That must be better for you, right?"
Again, not a simple answer.
I pack and repack and repack (just to be safe) my bag of medication and stuff it into my carry on. If I don't have it, it's going to be a loooonnng flight. I get there and my flight is delayed 3 hours. I am going to have to stay at the airport until dinner time, so I try to find a place to eat dinner. Skyline, a Cincinnati staple? Nope, that won't work. Panera Bread? No, for someone who is very intolerant to gluten a place with bread in it's title will not be good for me. McDonalds? Pizza? Subway? No. Nope. Can't eat there. I walk around the airport until I realize I have done a lap of the entire terminal and I am not going to be eating tonight.
I can feel my blood sugar drop so I run to get the first snack I can find, knowing that I am going to have to choose between passing out and being in pain. I hold my breath and take a bite of my granola bar. I board the plane and sit on my place in my aisle seat that I had to pay extra for. When you never know when you are going to have to get out of your seat suddenly for medical reasons, you pay for the aisle seat. 30 minutes in and I feel a flare up coming on. The seat belt sign is on for turbulence. I feel my blood sugar drop again. I don't have any snacks. Good thing the flight attendant is coming down the aisle with a cart of snacks. My options are pretzels and shortbread cookies. "No thank you".
I am grateful for the places I get to go. I am thankful my family is able to buy my plane tickets to fly home for breaks. Still, traveling is hard. Advocating for my needs is hard and gets harder. "Can we stop at the next rest stop? They have Chick-Fil-A and I can get a gluten free sandwhich." "But I'm hungry now. Can't you find something at McDonalds?" No I can't find something at McDonald's but I bite my tongue. I always bite my tongue.
This year, I decided not to go on the retreat. "Why not?" "It's going to be so encouraging" "Think of all the people you are going to meet!" "You really don't want to miss out" The menu for the weekend consists of burgers, pizza, sloppy Joe's and pasta. "I don't think I'm going to go this year." The retreat center is in rural West Virginia. The only places to eat within a 30 minute radius is a McDonalds and a poorly stocked Kroger. "I'm not going this weekend". The nearest hospital is a 30 minute drive from the retreat center. "I can't make it to West Virginia." The outlets in the cabins don't work. I will have nowhere to plug in my heating pad. "Sorry, I won't be seeing you this weekend." There are classes all morning on Saturday. I cannot sit down for more than an hour without having a seizure-like spell. "I don't think it will be in my best interest to go this weekend."
"But why not?"
My needs are important. I should advocate for them. Advocating for my needs does not and will not make me selfish. I need to make decisions for myself and for my health. Someone remind me of this.
safe travels
--Sabrina
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