Woman Who Never Gets Sick

I haven’t been sick – I mean really sick – in a long time. Sure, I’ve felt off or under the weather or unwell but I haven’t been downright sick in ages. I thought I was immune. I thought perhaps I’d be the subject of medical research: Woman who never gets sick.

And now looking back on the last few weeks, I chuckle at my previous arrogance. 

C and I have been married two years, but due to travel restrictions and other commitments, we had to wait until now to go on our honeymoon. Two delicious, blissful weeks in Barbados – the first week would be our honeymoon, the second would be family time with C’s parents and sister. 

C is of Bajan descent and although he didn’t grow up in Barbados, he has spent a considerable amount of time there. This trip was long overdue with our last Bajan holiday taking place six years ago. C planned everything. He booked our accommodations. He found the best restaurants and made reservations complete with requests for tables with the best sunset views. He even surprised me with business class seats for our long journey.

This was particularly special because in our relationship, I’m usually the planner, the organizer, and the obsessive over-thinker. Leading up to the trip, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. I had no responsibilities, no to-do lists, no endless Internet searches, no reviews I had to compare and assess, no decisions I had to make. All I could do was look forward to the sun and the beach and sleeping in and exploring the tiny island of Barbados. 

So that’s what I did. I packed my summer clothes, six bathing suits (!), six pairs of shoes (!!), and I daydreamed, thinking about all the wonderful things I was going to do. I’d work out every morning. I’d jump and dance while streaming ‘The Class’. I’d do my morning meditations and, in the afternoons, C and I would hike and explore. My laptop came along, because I would be productive each morning, waking up early to write and work and share content. I brought silk dresses and high heels. I would look my best each evening. Each pair of shoes had a specific purpose and I would wear a different bathing suit every few days. I couldn’t wait. 

I think you can guess where I’m going with this…

My body was W-A-Y ahead of me. Rest? my body thought, I’ll give you rest. Relaxation? No problem. Yes, I got sick because what choice is there but rest when you’re sick?

I did not work out, I did not hike, I barely opened my laptop, I did not meditate, I wore the same bathing suit for a good eight days of the trip, and I didn’t wear my silk dresses. 

I felt unwell shortly after arriving, and hunkered down, did very little, and felt better. Okay, great! We went out, enjoyed the sun and the beaches; we went for dinner, and lunches and then one more dinner, and there it was: Food poisoning. After days of apple sauce and ginger ale, barely, it was time to go home. We arrived safely enough, but then I felt unwell again. It felt like the only thing I hadn’t had was COVID. Sure enough, I tested positive. 

To add to it all, a mould abatement project, complete with re-flooring, demolition, construction, and painting was supposed to take place while we were away. Before leaving, we’d packed up half of our home in preparation and when we returned full of expectations, we were met with an unpleasant surprise. Not only was it not done, it was worse than they’d thought. As I write this, our house remains in a complete state of disaster.

In my late teens, I went to Europe for three weeks with my parents and three brothers. I did not want to go. You see, I had a boyfriend and I was absolutely beside myself at the thought of being away from him for twenty-one whole days. Every night on that trip, I’d search frantically for a Wi-Fi signal, laptop in hand. My brothers once found me hunkered down outside someone’s home in Amsterdam connected to the faintest bit of internet in the hopes of chatting with him. In my desperate attempt to connect with ‘home’, I completely checked out of reality. I was not present. In fact, I barely remember the trip. 

Though I didn’t know it at the time, my actions in that youthful, blinkered life stage taught me a funny but valuable lesson. I learned the importance of being present and open and able to enjoy the situation, whatever it might be. After all, it’s not just the imagined and anticipated wonderful experiences that make the memories. It’s the reality. The ups and downs both end up being stories you tell, reminisce about, laugh about, and cherish. Often, disrupted or changed or challenging travel plans result in wonderful stories and the best memories.

I have a tendency to be competitive. And on holidays, I can find myself feeling like I need to see just one more landmark, or spend just a few more hours walking around, go to just every single shop and market, or get just a little more dressed up. In a strange twist of fate, being under the weather allowed me to let go of those competitive feelings, and let me just be. 

While I might sometimes resist this philosophy, deep down, I know that being under the weather is the body’s way of saying it’s time to relax. And on this trip, that’s just what I did. I got more sleep than I’d had in months. I finished a book every few days. I took very few photos and provided very few social media updates. I allowed myself to realise that being in peak form is not necessary to embrace and appreciate and be present while on holidays. And it was nice. The days were beautiful and C and I relished every single moment.

It wasn’t the honeymoon I anticipated, but it was the one I needed.