When my son finished active treatment, one of the things my husband and I started talking about, almost immediately, was a vacation.

We had not been on a real vacation since his diagnosis. We had not stayed in a hotel. We had not flown anywhere. We had not been more than thirty minutes from his oncology team for almost four years.

We decided to take a small trip this summer. Three nights. A short drive. A lake. Nothing fancy. Our first family vacation as a survivor family.

I want to write down what we packed, what we left at home, and what we learned. Because if you are a survivor family thinking about your first trip, this is the version I would have wanted to read.

How we chose where to go

We did not go far. We chose a small lake town about three hours from home, which kept us inside reasonable driving distance of our home hospital. We did not fly because flying still feels like more than we are ready for. We did not go anywhere remote because the idea of being far from a pediatric ER still makes me catch my breath.

We chose a rental cabin instead of a hotel because we wanted a kitchen, a quiet space for the kids, and the ability to control the environment a little more than a hotel allows.

We chose three nights because that felt like the right size for our first trip. Long enough to feel like a real vacation. Short enough that we did not feel trapped if anything went sideways.

What we packed

The medical bag

We did not pack a hospital bag, exactly. We packed a smaller version. The medical bag included:

All current prescriptions, in their original bottles, plus a few extra days' worth in case we got delayed
A thermometer (the one we trust)
Children's Tylenol (knowing that he cannot have it without checking with the team)
Hand sanitizer, several bottles
Sanitizing wipes for surfaces
A printed copy of his medical summary, including diagnosis, treatments completed, allergies, current medications, and our oncology team's contact information
The on-call number for our home hospital
The name and number of the nearest pediatric ER to our destination, looked up before we left
Our insurance cards

We did not need most of it. We were glad to have all of it.

The comfort bag

The toys, blankets, books, and small comforts that travel well. Most of these were the same items that lived in our clinic bag for years. The yellow Cocomelon bus. His weighted plush. A small set of Magna-Tiles. The water-wow book. A bedtime book we read every night at home.

Familiarity is what makes a vacation feel safe for a survivor kid. We packed the familiar things first.

The food bag

Snacks he likes. A small bag of crackers and applesauce pouches and his preferred granola bars. A water bottle. We were going to a town with a grocery store, but the first 24 hours of any new place are easier with familiar food.

The regular vacation stuff

Swimsuits. Towels. Sunscreen. Bug spray. Sun hats. The boring stuff that is the boring stuff of every family vacation. We packed lighter than we used to. Cancer parenting has taught us that we use less than we think.

What we left at home

The hospital bag

We did not bring the full hospital bag. We made the decision the night before. The hospital bag had been packed and unpacked a thousand times during treatment. It is a bag we associate with crisis. We left it home on purpose.

Our anxiety, partially

We made a deal as we left the driveway. We would acknowledge our anxiety. We would not let it run the vacation. If one of us felt a moment of cancer-mom or cancer-dad spiral coming on, we would name it to each other and try to let it move through.

It worked, mostly. There were a few moments. They passed.

The need for everything to be perfect

We did not need this to be the perfect family vacation. We needed it to be a vacation that happened. We aimed low on purpose. The lake was nice. The cabin was small. The dinners were sometimes chaotic. The bedtimes were rough on the first night.

It was perfect because it happened.

What we learned

Three nights was the right number

Long enough to feel like a real trip. Short enough that we got home before fatigue set in. We could see ourselves doing five nights next year. Maybe seven, the year after.

We were more capable than we thought

The car ride was fine. The cabin was fine. The lake was fine. Our son was fine. Our daughter was thrilled. My husband and I held hands on a porch and drank coffee in the morning, and that simple act felt like a small miracle.

We had been bracing for so long. We did not know how to stop bracing. The vacation taught us that we can.

Survivor families can travel

Survivor families can travel. The first trip is a milestone. Each one after gets a little easier. The medical bag stays packed. The hospital bag stays home.

A note for the survivor family considering a first trip

Start small. Stay within driving distance of your home hospital. Choose a destination near a pediatric ER. Pack the medical bag. Leave the hospital bag. Bring the familiar comfort items. Aim low on perfection.

The trip does not have to be impressive. It has to happen.

Your family deserves a vacation. Your kid deserves to swim in a lake. You deserve to drink coffee on a porch.

Dina
Mom of Max | Founder, Maxwell’s Toy Shoppe
Childhood Cancer Advocate 💛

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