Where Have I Been?

If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, you’re not alone.

Over the past almost two years, you’ve still seen a few travel photos and the very occasional adventure. Looking from the outside, you could probably tell life was not carrying on as it used to. I wanted to share a little more from the inside what it actually looked like.

The truth is, the past almost two years have been the hardest season of my life.

Starting right before my trip to Spain in October of 2024, I started getting dizzy spells with a very high resting heart rate. Then in December 2024, my world changed in the best possible way when I became “Gigi” to my very first grandson. One day holding him, my world went black, and I knew it was more than being just dizzy.

But I had dreams to show him the world. In fact, I had already bought an RV and made sure it had a place where his car seat could be securely attached. I imagined weekend camping trips, chasing sunsets, visiting national parks, and introducing him to the same sense of adventure that has shaped so much of my life.

I thought this chapter of life would be filled with family, travel, and making memories.

Instead, it became filled with doctor’s appointments.

At first, the changes were subtle. In January 2025, I started noticing that something just wasn’t right. I wasn’t feeling like myself, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. I started getting more and more of these racing heart, low blood pressure and dizzy spells.

We already had two big trips planned for late January and early February, so I pushed through. Looking back, I realize those trips were the beginning of a completely different journey. I struggled through them, often feeling sick and exhausted, wondering why my body suddenly wasn’t cooperating.

As the months passed, the appointments multiplied.

One specialist became another.

One test led to another.

Then came procedures, hospital stays, medications, and more questions than answers.

Over the course of the next year and a half, I would attend more than 180 doctor’s appointments, be hospitalized three times, undergo eight procedures requiring sedation, and eventually be medically retired from the career I expected to retire from years down the road.

By late summer of 2025, I was on medical leave from work. I kept telling myself it was temporary. I fully expected I’d recover enough to return.

I never did.

Hoping for a change of scenery, we planned a short trip in December 2025 to lift my spirits. Instead, we hit a deer, leaving our vehicle too damaged to drive. We found ourselves stranded out west for nearly thirty days while it was repaired.

Most people would think an unexpected month in the West would be an adventure.

For me, it wasn’t.

All I wanted was to come home.

I didn’t want to sightsee.

I didn’t want to explore.

I just wanted my own bed.

Every single day felt like work simply getting out of it.

I tried my best to fake a smile. Sometimes the smile would bring tears.

Then came 2026.

Three hospitalizations.

Spinal Cord Stimulator implanted inside my back; but still no relief.

More specialists.

More diagnoses.

More answers.

And finally, approval for my medical retirement.

It’s strange how quickly life can change.

Just a few years ago, I was hiking the Inca Trail, climbing thousands of stone steps through the Andes Mountains. I felt strong. Independent. Capable.

Today, I struggle walking up the driveway to an estate sale.

I become winded after a 4-5 stairs.

There are moments when I suddenly become lightheaded or weak with little warning.

Just today, while shopping at an estate sale, a worker noticed I was becoming visibly ill. She quickly found me a chair while B retrieved one of my emergency medications from my purse. Within about thirty seconds of placing the tablet under my tongue, it is supposed to make me feel somewhat better.

I’ve learned that my body now writes its own itinerary. Some days my vagus nerve decides it’s in charge, and suddenly an ordinary trip to an estate sale becomes a reminder that I have to slow down and listen when my body says “enough.” My autonomic nervous system has a mind of its own these days. Without warning, it can leave me lightheaded, weak, and needing to stop whatever I’m doing.

Those episodes can happen almost anywhere.

Standing in line.

Walking through a store.

Simply talking to someone.

Some days, I feel like I’ve aged thirty years almost overnight.

It’s difficult to accept when your mind still remembers what your body used to be capable of.

I won’t pretend there haven’t been days filled with grief.

I’ve grieved the career I loved.

I’ve grieved the adventures I thought I’d be taking.

I’ve grieved the version of myself that could hike mountains without thinking twice.

But I’ve also learned that life doesn’t stop just because it changes.

These days, our adventures are different.

Instead of cross-country road trips, you’ll probably see more hidden gems close to home.

Instead of hiking fourteen miles, you may find me wandering through antique shops or slowly making my way around an estate sale.

I’ve learned to appreciate slower mornings, shorter drives, and the beauty that’s often waiting just a few miles from home.

Adventure hasn’t disappeared.

It has simply changed.

One of the biggest lessons this journey has taught me is how fragile good health really is.

We spend so much of our lives assuming tomorrow will look like today.

Until one day, it doesn’t.

If there’s anything I hope you take away from my story, it’s this:

Take the trip.

Go on the hike.

Spend time with your family.

Don’t wait for the “perfect” time to make memories.

Life has a way of changing our plans without asking permission.

As for me, I’m still here.

I’m still searching for beautiful places.

I’m still finding stories worth sharing.

The road just looks a little different than I ever imagined.

And that’s okay.

Because every road—whether it’s a mountain trail, a quiet backroad, or the path through an unexpected season of life—still has something worth discovering.

Thank you for continuing to travel this journey with me.

I’m looking forward to sharing this new chapter with you.

-S