The Trials of Travel

Bali

Packing a suitcase used to be second nature. Throw in a few shirts, grab a passport, check the flight times, and head out the door. When you live with young-onset dementia, though, preparing for a long journey isn't just about packing clothes. It's about packing strategies, safety nets, and an exhausting amount of mental reassurance.

Next week, I'm heading to Bali to speak at the 2nd International Dementia Innovation Conference. It’s an incredible opportunity to share my lived experience, challenge stereotypes, and advocate for others navigating life with cognitive change. I'm genuinely looking forward to being there. But getting from my front door to that stage on the other side of the world? That's where the real challenge lies.

The sheer volume of logistics feels overwhelming. International travel involves hundreds of tiny, rapid decisions: navigating airport terminals, tracking boarding gate changes, keeping up with timezone shifts, and making sure vital medication isn't misplaced in a flurry of movement.

When your short-term memory is unpredictable, the fear of losing your bearings or forgetting an essential document creates a constant, background hum of anxiety.

To cope, my planning has to be meticulous. Everything goes into a detailed travel folder, both on my phone and in physical printouts. Every leg of the journey is mapped out step by step, from the taxi pickup to the hotel check-in. I rely heavily on visual checklists, digital reminders, and airport assistance services to take the cognitive load off my shoulders.

Even so, the mental gymnastics of double-checking every single detail leaves me thoroughly drained before I've even set foot on the plane.

The hardest part is the energy management. I need to arrive in Bali with enough mental clarity to deliver my talk, which means pacing myself relentlessly during transit. It's a delicate balancing act between pushing outside my comfort zone to advocate for our community and protecting my brain from sensory overload.

Advocacy matters, but so does honesty. Living with dementia doesn't mean staying at home, but it does mean that simply getting to the starting line is a marathon in itself. Once the bags are zipped and the boarding passes are in hand, I'll take a deep breath and trust the systems I've put in place.

See you in Bali.