When Personal Life Intersects with Professional Life

Life doesn’t always respect our carefully made plans, especially when it comes to balancing personal health and a demanding career. As a travel professional, I often separate the business from the personal, but sometimes the two collide in ways we don’t expect. This past week brought that collision front and center for me when a sudden bout of vertigo turned my professional agenda upside down—and forced me to confront the delicate intersection of personal well-being and work commitments.

When I started writing the blog again after a couple of months’ hiatus, I promised to focus on the business side of travel. In the first few blogs, I explored what we travel professionals do and what our role really means in today’s world. After covering these angles, I planned to shift the focus to the unique destinations that make travel so special—starting last week with a special feature on Croatia, followed by another post about the region. But, well, last week something happened that literally stopped me cold.

GEM 2023

Last week was supposed to be London week for me—the Global European Marketplace and WTM, World Travel Market, which is still ongoing. Rosa was joining me for the first part, partly for fun, but also so she could see what I do outside of sitting behind my computer putting together amazing client adventures. But that trip didn’t happen. Something happened to me that, as far as I know, never had before—and the whole trip got cancelled. Some costs were lost, some hopefully recoverable by travel insurance, but the week was done.

It hit me like a ton of bricks so hard that standing up wasn’t even possible. For three to four days, I couldn’t stand at all, and when I finally could, it was only with help. I didn’t fall or break anything. But when I tried to get up, the walls swayed—vertigo.

Maybe you’ve never had it, or perhaps yes. Or maybe you have experienced a migraine so paralyzing you thought it was the end. I’ve had migraines before, and after a few hours of darkness and quiet, they’d pass within a day or so. Even then, I was sometimes dizzy from head colds, but a decongestant here, an ibuprofen there—and a few hours later—I was up and good to go. This time, though, the walls were moving, and so was the floor, just trying to get to the bathroom. Rosa was out, and I somehow clung on for dear life, making it from point A to point B. After I did what I needed to do, somehow, I made it back to bed—and stayed there.

This was the day before we were set to fly to London. I held out hope that maybe this was like the other times: short-lived and manageable, and even if I missed a hotel night, we could still make the trip. But it didn’t get better. When Rosa came home, she was concerned—it wasn’t just clogged sinuses this time. She went to the pharmacy and got a decongestant/ibuprofen combo to clear things up. But even after that, I couldn’t sit up without dizziness and nausea, so the decision was made to cancel the trip.

I basically ate nothing because I couldn’t get out of bed without feeling sick. Bedridden, I was.

The next day, after a full day in bed and no improvement from over-the-counter meds, Rosa contacted her—and now our—family doctor. She came for a house call in the evening. It’s nice to know house calls still exist here in Italy—something rare in the US nowadays. The last time I remembered a house call was when I was a kid, but that’s another story. The doctor took my vitals (with a backpack instead of a traditional doctor bag), which were essentially “normal” given the situation, and gave me a shot for nausea and prescribed cortisone and a decongestant. However, the meds couldn’t be purchased until the next day, so I had to manage another night on what I had. And the house call? Free. Nothing, niente. (that’s Italian for “nothing”). Imagine that in the States.

GEM 2023

If you remember last year, I couldn’t attend GEM or WTM—not because of illness but bureaucracy, since I still didn’t have my “permesso,” the permanent resident document in Italy. So, two years in a row, my “London week” plans have fallen through—once due to paperwork, and this time, due to my health. Was there a message in this? Yes. My body—and Rosa would agree—was telling me I needed to slow down after a very busy year in the travel industry and in our lives here in Rome.

It might be true. I’ve barely been on my computer these past few days except to clear some emails.

Do I have work to do? Absolutely. And I’m grateful Rosa was here to help me through this time. I would do the same for her if the roles were reversed. I’m learning more about balance in life, something I thought I had learned long ago but somehow had forgotten. Fortunately, this happened during a slower business cycle. It reminded me that I am not an island—even though I wish I’d remember that more often. The last time I was similarly dependent on others was when I broke my arm in Iceland over ten years ago. But back then, the support system I expected wasn’t there, so I convinced myself I had to do everything solo. Now, I’m older and, hopefully, wiser—and I truly appreciate what I have.

I spoke about the intersection of personal and business life, and these past days have underscored it for me even more. Life is short, and this experience has deeply impacted me. I’ve let clients and colleagues know what happened, as many were wondering why I hadn’t responded, knowing my usual practice of getting back quickly.

While I don’t plan to stop what I love—running the travel business and teaching—I had to cancel a class the very first night of my vertigo episode. I’m considering whether “doing less” may be necessary if this is the price to pay—whether it hits suddenly or creeps up over months.

Travel and education define me and bring me joy. So does my marriage to Rosa and our life here in Rome, with all its challenges and stresses. Yet, we’re stronger together—both personally and professionally—when tough situations arise.

Earlier this year, I had my travel lawyer draft a succession plan—not for anytime soon, I thought, as I fully intended to keep doing this. But this vertigo experience brought it into sharper focus and scared me a bit.

Italians don’t live to work—they work to live. Life is too short to be all work, work, work.
I want to enjoy simple things more. I rediscovered that during the pandemic, but when reality hits home so personally, it really hits home.

After a week mostly in bed or doing nothing, today Rosa and I are going out for a walk and spending the day together. Being scared of falling or taking stairs (we live on the 3rd floor with no elevator) was not me—at least, not before this.

Staying housebound this past week changed me.

Don’t worry—the Wandering Puffin is still at the helm. But maybe I’m taking it a bit easier these days, while the opportunity allows.
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Thank you.