I went to Barcelona the year after I never went anywhere. That was the year I suffered two prolapsed discs in my lower back, condemning me to four months stuck at home on a cocktail of painkillers and daytime television. It’s strange how being housebound can affect you. As someone who loves to travel, I still struggle to get my head around how fearful I became of leaving my own front door.
When you’re getting over the type of physical pain that people tell you they can actually see on your face, it’s easy to become frightened of simply bumping in to someone when you’re out and about. You worry that the slightest thing will hurt you all over again. In my case, it meant that the real me went into hibernation. And despite being inactive for such a long time, somehow I managed to lose a lot of weight, because I just couldn’t sit up to eat a meal.
Eventually boarding a plane and taking off on a trip to Barcelona, somewhere I’d always wanted to visit, was an unbelievable feeling. And it was there, in Barcelona, that the travel bug bit me again.
My lower back pain has never completely gone away, but I don’t complain. Things can always be a lot worse. And it doesn’t stop me travelling. I won’t let it. Those flights can get uncomfortable, but a rolled up scarf tucked in to the small of my back (my fashion/ function saviour), works wonders.
Nothing will stop me from seeing the world.
Not since Barcelona brought me back to life.
Has an injury or illness ever stopped you from travelling? Has any one place really made a difference to you, or brought you back from something? If you’d like to, please share your story in the comments.