Travel
June 2026 Off-cycle special post
Travel, Chronic Pain, and Memories
“I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.” Susan Sontag
Musings by board member Philip Yassenoff
When I traveled through Europe at age 18, it was a spontaneous experience. I had no idea what I was doing or seeing until I did it or saw it. That was fine with me. I’d bum a cigarette from a stranger waiting for a train. Have lunch with a transient ex-con in a pizza shop in Amsterdam. Such is the gift of youth. I was too stupid to know just how stupid I was, and I got to enjoy each experience without preconceived ideas.
Forward to May of 2026; I’ll be 70 in a few months, and I have had chronic pain every day for 6 years. Age and health have conspired to make me occasionally, quietly bitter about the simplest physical activities. The hardest thing for me to do is stand for long periods, or walk any particular distance on hard surfaces. As you may know, standing and walking are 80% of the experience of traveling through Europe. Thankfully, the other 20% is eating great food and inhaling espresso.
Leading up to this recent trip I drove my wife nuts with my obsessive, full time preparation. It’s not possible to anticipate every situation and challenge that my physical condition could dampen, but I tried. I looked forward to the trip, and I also feared it. Could I do the walking, standing, and persisting, without the opportunity to lie down, maybe not even sitting for long stretches at a time. Before the trip, I was testing out shoes like Imelda Marcos, seeking hotels based on their closeness to attractions, and don’t get me started about my existential struggle with trying to take the right luggage. This trip was going to be the opposite of spontaneous and fluid, and I resented my own condition because of that.
Chronic pain changes how you experience travel. All my strategizing did not prepare me for the complex emotional experience of simultaneously loving quaint cobblestone streets and wanting to escape them for a cozy hotel room. Each day I had to fight an internal battle with my pain and the frustration and sadness it created. There were many times when we were walking through magical, historic places and I experienced a sense of wonder and gratitude, but there was no way to have a pure sense of joy because the pain was always there.
Stairs. In The Netherlands, stairs seem designed to test the character of elite athletes in training. I kept wondering how someone with more pain or disability than me could possibly get around the vertical obstacles there. The elevator we had in Rome held two people (without luggage). A full size wheelchair would not have fit. Europe is more civilized and human centered in many ways, but I saw no real evidence of something like the accommodations afforded by our ADA. In and around buildings and on cobblestone streets it’s simply harder there if you have physical challenges.
And then there is the fact of a different medical/pharmacy system. I was overjoyed to find topical Dicoflenac (an NSAID) at twice our available strength. I was less happy about trying to describe what an enema is. Seriously, two sophisticated countries and no one had ever heard of this embarrassing low tech item invented in ancient Egypt. Asking for one is the most awkward of discussions, with the language barriers, and the need for hand gestures that can be easily misconstrued. Enough said.
I also took Hydrocodone with me, which involves getting a doctors note, ahead of time, to use at border crossings. No one ever asked me for that letter, but their views on opioids are more restrictive than ours. There is legal cannabis in The Netherlands, for pain management, but I never wanted to go through the trouble of introducing that wild card.
I’d love to say that the trip was all pastries and pasta. God knows we loved that part, and the food in Italy was the best I’ve ever had. That said, each day for me was grueling and more than a little painful. Above that is the very heartfelt joy of experiencing beauty, history, culture and earning memories that will be with me for life. I don’t regret a moment. It also didn’t hurt that I got to do all of that with the love of my life, Janna. If you are going to go on a challenging trip like this, with chronic pain, your partner needs to be reasonably patient and kind.
I also want to say that age made the trip harder but sweeter. As a teen, I didn’t fully appreciate the wonders around me in Europe. This time, in spite of all challenges, I felt so fortunate to be immersed in this other world, and to walk through history. We all live and die. Civilizations come and go. Travel puts our unique but small lives in their proper perspective.
If you have chronic pain and want to travel. here are a few tips:
Understand what you are getting into and do your research about how to get around and navigate obstacles.
Don’t try to do everything. For every site you see, there are a dozen you won’t see.
Build in rest. If you’re like me, or my wife, there is always some new thing to experience around the next corner. That can be a bit of a trap. Honor your physical needs.
Experience the culture. I heard one American tourist say to his wife, “I don’t want this stuff (the food), I’m going to McDonald’s.” If that’s how you feel, just stay home.
Use “And;” not “But.” Saying, “This is great, But I’m in pain,” robs you of some of the joy. Try, “This is great, And I’m in pain.” The use of “and” creates a bridge; it’s inclusive. Both things are true, simultaneously.
Only you can decide if it’s worth it for you to travel with your chronic pain as a companion. I’m home now and a little worse for wear. Regardless, this trip changed me for the better. The photos, the memories, show what a visceral experience this was. It’s now wired into my operating system and I’m so glad I took this journey.
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Philip Yassenoff, Board Member at Large
We are a 501(c)(3) organization
The traveling part of my life has ended. My last trip was a business trip. Despite the wheelchair through the airports, the excellent accessible accommodations, and a fairly understanding team, it took too much out of me, and took too long to recover from. I travel vicariously on YouTube now, having never personally trod the cobblestones, much to my regret.
So happy to read this post and hear that, for you, travel is possible with chronic pain. After an injury climbing Mt Kilimanjaro, I struggled with chronic pain so fierce that I was forced to live life lying down. I simply couldn't sit. Travel has always been a passion for my husband and me, and we grieved the wanderlust life we used to have. As I finally recovered 15 years later, our first international trip was to Dublin, where we reveled in the magic of the city, stood up in pubs (I still couldn't sit) and wandered the streets. I was euphoric and a testament to the fact that it can be done. I've just launched a publication LIFE INSIDE PAIN to chronicle the 15 year journey and hopefully share some insights that will help others, as yours does. I hope you'll stop by and check it out.