This is about the events that happened just four days before I write this.

Considering the heart attack, I suffered about six months ago, the radiation therapy for prostate cancer that I underwent a couple of months back, and the ADT therapy I am currently undergoing, not to mention the substantial loss of weight and my increasing difficulty in navigating even within the house, my younger son had warned us against long-distance travel. With my wife’s ankle problems making walking difficult for her, he was worried. However, my elder son gave us a bit more leeway. He wasn't entirely against such trips, provided we took the best luxury car with a driver we knew well and stayed comfortably wherever we went—he told us not to mind the expenditure.

The problem was further compounded. My wife couldn't sit in a car continuously for more than an hour or so, and I had reservations about traveling by train. The steep steps for getting into the trains, the excessive crowd in the stations, and even the use of toilets made me uneasy. I was especially concerned about getting in and out of the train, let alone traveling. The last alternative was taking a flight. But you can't find flights to just anywhere and everywhere.

Even if we did find flights, getting wheelchairs wasn't easy. Every flight does not have an aerobridge entry. What if we had to take a bus or climb up the steps into the flight? All these issues were on my mind.

When I talk about this, some look at me quizzically. "If so, then how does he travel such a long distance to the U.S.?" I, too, feel embarrassed about this. 

Don’t I have genuine reasons?

Continued in 214. Function, Fun, Frolic and Frustration Too - Part 2