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Picture this: Traveling with a chronic illness leads to a whole new journey

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Have fun! Send pics!

We’ve all said, or at least heard, the sentiment, “Have fun! Send pics!” but for me these sentences are particularly meaningful, due to the fact that I suffer from chronic Lyme disease, and, for almost two years, I was housebound much of the time.

I didn’t have the breathing capacity or energy to journey very far from the house, even though I used to be a very active person. Just to try and relay what this means, while other people’s lists contained items such as meet with financial adviser, buy groceries for summer barbecue, book trip to Hawaii, my list stated things like bake sweet potato, wash hair, be sure to take all of your supplements on time.

Due to my illness, I’ve had to miss out on so many of life’s paramount moments. I’ve missed Easters and Thanksgivings, my only child’s college graduation, my mother-in-law’s 96th birthday party, my best friend’s father’s celebration-of-life gathering — several of which there were no pictures for.

Life didn’t stop, of course, just because I was housebound. My husband of over 30 years has taken short trips down the Cape and to the Berkshires, while our 20-something son and his girlfriend have enjoyed treks to Greece, Puerto Rico, Florida and Stowe, Vermont. They’ve all taken pics on their travels and either texted them to me that day or shared them the moment they got home.

As a result, I’ve been able to see the sprawling view of Athens from the Acropolis, the shimmering azure of the sea at Condado Beach, the sun going down at Key West, a sentry box at Castillo San Felipe del Morro.

But the best part of these viewings are the stories that go along with them. My family doesn’t just show me photographs, they narrate their journeys for me, which helps me to experience some of their most inspiring moments.

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As my son describes hiking a steep and rock-covered trail in the El Yunque National Forest and wanting to turn back due to the difficulty, I feel my own sudden rush of adrenaline flood my body. As he describes the awe-inspiring view from a rooftop deck overlooking the Acropolis, I am aware of my own keen sense of wonder.

Through their photographs, I get to share in my family’s enthusiasm, see the world through their eyes, learn what they deem is important. For my husband: an emerald-green mallard, lounging on the shore of Long Pond among glistening stones. For my son: a view of San Juan, as framed by the window of a 16th-century castle.

I draw closer to them as I partake in their excitement, observe their pupils dilate as they hold the screens of their cellphones before me. Their photos help me to feel like I’ve actually “been there.” And their texts of pics when they’re gone help me in small ways to miss them less.

The good news is that I’ve been recovering of late, to the point where I’ve now been able to drive short distances again and take walks in our local park. I’ve also been able to drive myself to the dentist, pop into CVS, buy some local produce at Wegman’s.

And I’ve been taking my own photos and sharing some of these with my family. Nothing as grandiose as the Parthenon. Rather: the vibrancy of a red tree bud, set against the shimmering backdrop of the Assabet River. A local pond laden with lily pads. Yellow and purple crocuses ablaze against the greenest of grass — which are, of course, grandiose in their own way.

But even though I venture out more now, I still look forward to seeing a world wider than what my own limited treks provide. I’d still like to see parts of Asia and Europe and South America, especially if viewed through my family’s eyes.

Keep your fingers crossed for me. My next “trip,” I think, is to Belize. As long as my son and his girlfriend can get the time off.

Charlotte Hebert’s essays have appeared in the Telegram & Gazette and Sunday Boston Globe Magazine.  Hebert’s young adult novel “Big Heaven” was published by Savant Books and Publications. Hebert’s short fiction has appeared in over a half-dozen literary journals, including Sun Dog: The Southeast Review and The Widener Review.  

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