Joy trumps grief as my mom embarks on a rare trip
She has rarely traveled since my 1999 PH diagnosis
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The last time my mom and I flew together was nearly seven years ago, when I took a medical flight home from Stanford Hospital in California to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. That journey happened midway through my eight-month recovery from a heart and lung transplant in 2018.
We both remember that flight vividly, though I doubt either of us expected it might be my last. It wasn’t, however, my mom’s. On Sunday, after much consideration, she boarded a plane for the first time since 2019 — this time, without me by her side.
Although my mom has traveled extensively in her life, she’s rarely done so without me since my pulmonary hypertension (PH) diagnosis in 1999. After that life-changing news, we still took plenty of family trips, but my medical complexities made it uncommon for her to travel alone.
Achieving a milestone
There were a handful of times she joined my dad on a work trip or a short vacation, relying on my grandparents and home healthcare to provide my care. But those occasions were rare. It’s always been a challenging dynamic given her role as my primary caregiver, making it difficult, for many reasons, to leave me behind.
After my transplant, my mom and I hoped I’d be able to travel as an adult. We dreamed of me venturing out on my own and of taking bigger family trips, maybe even going abroad, something we never felt comfortable attempting while I was living with PH.
Anna Jeter’s mom, Laurie, recently visited the California coast during a rare trip without her daughter. (Courtesy of Laurie Jeter)
Instead, over the past seven years, we’ve run up against barrier after barrier. The most we’ve managed were summer road trips up north in two cars packed to the brim with medical supplies.
What’s easy to overlook, though, is that these setbacks exist only for me, not for my mom, even though our lives are so closely intertwined. Still, over the years, she’s been held back by her fear of leaving me from a medical perspective and the emotional grief of carrying on with something I can’t do alongside her.
More than once, my father, siblings, and I have encouraged her to take a trip. She never felt comfortable, for all the reasons I’ve described. Finally, this past month, the right opportunity presented itself: a short girls’ trip to California to see a friend. After some gentle coaxing, she agreed to go.
This decision didn’t require much logistical planning. I’m in a stable season of health, and my dad is with me, so I’m perfectly capable of managing for a few days. The emotional toll, though, is greater. Because of how close we are and all we’ve been through, it’s always hard to face moments where she moves forward with part of her life without me.
That said, the joy of this milestone outweighs the grief. I’m so happy she took this step, and I hope it helps us both feel more comfortable with her traveling apart from me in the future. I also refuse to give up the dream that we’ll travel together again someday — if the right circumstances align, I believe it’s possible. Until then, I’ll happily live vicariously through her adventures, cheering her on from home.
Note: Pulmonary Hypertension News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Pulmonary Hypertension News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to pulmonary hypertension.
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