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Last week we took a vacation to Las Vegas and then swung by the Grand Canyon on our way back home (and by Vegas I mean the one in Nevada and not the one in New Mexico; every time you tell a New Mexican you’re going to Las Vegas they always ask you which one, so I always clarify, even though I know everyone else just says “There’s another Las Vegas?”). It was an exciting and interesting vacation because I had never been to either place and it feels like it should be impossible to not have a good time in Las Vegas (I mean, if the people you’re with are awful, maybe, but if you’re with someone you like—there’s just so much to do and see). I mean, I felt like I was on Risa (the pleasure planet where Star Trek characters take vacations) walking around the Las Vegas Strip. Everything was over-the-top and loud and full of people and there was endless food and drink and entertainment.

And then I got to have fantastic views of the Grand Canyon, like this:

grand canyon

And feel awed once again by how cool Mother Nature and plant Earth can be.

And then this, at the Meteor Crater in Arizona, which was just off the Interstate on our drive home and we thought, why not stop and see it?


It was quite windy at the crater and it was exhilarating to be in those strong gusts, and it was again an experience that was a little humbling and awe-inspiring, this time by thinking how Earth is just a tiny speck in space and we’re vulnerable to things we hardly ever think about.

But of course having fibro had its impact. Not a terrible, awful, horrible one–I’d call it mild-moderate compared to how it has impact me in the past–but it still had one.

We ended up driving because the gas was cheaper than the flight (I think we planned the vacation too late), and the car we took was small and cramped and the seat was not designed to cradle and support a human back—or at least my back. I felt pretty miserable but tried not to let it dampen my good spirits. I made sure to take my pain killer and I tried to stretch out the little aches and pains, but I still felt bad being stuck in that car for hours upon hours upon hours.

And then vacationing in Las Vegas requires a lot of walking, unless you want to spend a lot of money on cabs or a smaller amount of money but lots more time on the bus. (Interestingly enough, we only took one badly-lit photograph while in Las Vegas. I’m not sure why.) We were okay with the idea of walking because it meant we getting in some exercise between bouts of over-eating, but the Las Vegas strip is longer than it looks and we ended up walking more than we expected. Add in the heat and the fact that we did some drinking and it lead to some really fatigued moments. I’d get back to the hotel and collapse into bed. And it meant that I slept in and couldn’t be the type of vacationer who gets up early in the morning to do some sight seeing, but my husband isn’t that type of vacationer anyway so that didn’t matter too much. Besides, everything in Vegas costs money, and spending a few extra hours in the hotel room meant we weren’t spending any money.

So yes, fibro, had it’s impact, but it never made me feel frustrated with myself or my body. All-in-all I kept up well enough was able to enjoy myself.