There is something about getting sick in another country that strips away all pretense.
I was tired. Congested. Sleepless. Alone with my thoughts and a box of tissues in a quiet apartment thousands of miles from home. And in that vulnerable space, one truth stood taller than everything else:
Medical insurance is not a luxury. It is dignity.
Ladies, we are bold. We are seasoned. We are women over 65 who have raised families, built careers, buried loved ones, started over, and chosen adventure anyway. We do not move abroad blindly. We do not travel recklessly. We plan.
But even the most prepared among us can underestimate how quickly a simple virus can humble the body.
When my symptoms worsened, I did not hesitate to seek care. Not because I am fearless — but because I am insured. That changes everything. It changes the way you walk into a clinic. It changes the tone of your voice when you speak to the doctor. It changes the anxiety level in your chest.
- I do not carry travel insurance.
- I carry medical insurance.
There is a difference.
Travel insurance is for lost luggage and delayed flights. Medical insurance is for IV fluids when you are dehydrated. It is for prescriptions when the cough will not let you sleep. It is for peace of mind when your head feels heavy and your body feels foreign to you.
And here is what I want every woman reading this to understand: independence at our age requires infrastructure. Confidence requires coverage. Freedom requires foresight.
We did not spend six decades becoming wise just to gamble with our health.
Getting ill abroad reminded me that strength is not pretending you will never need help. Strength is making sure help is available before you do.
I share my life publicly because I know many of you are watching, wondering if you too can live internationally, travel solo, or relocate after retirement. You can. Absolutely you can.
But do it covered. Do it responsibly. Do it with the kind of preparation that honors the woman you have become.
If my journey speaks to you — the real parts, the brave parts, the uncomfortable parts — join my mailing list. This conversation is just getting started, and I want you right there with me.
