Best Laid Plans: Illness, Empathy, and Coconut Water
It Started with a Cough
Just a little more than usual, but enough to worry us. We were a day into a cruise, and my husband—who has a serious lung disease—was starting to feel worse. I had packed our trusty small traveling pharmacy, which usually gets us through colds, stomach bugs, and sleepless nights. But this time, it wasn’t enough. And that’s when I realized: sometimes, the best thing you can pack is a little trust in the kindness of strangers.
Traveling is a big part of life for my husband and me—we travel often. And with all that travel, it’s only natural that we’ve had a few experiences getting ill abroad. The idea of this used to scare me. Not so much anymore.
A Quiet Fear We Don’t Often Talk About
Along the way, we’ve met a few people who ask, “What happens if you get sick in [insert destination outside of the U.S.]?” My old answer would have been to recommend travel insurance that covers these types of events—which I still firmly believe in for all trips abroad.
However, with our history of needing medical assistance during a few trips abroad, my answer has changed. Now, my advice is simple: go to the doctor—or, in some cultures, the pharmacist. I’d only suggest the local hospital in case of an emergency.
Trouble at Sea
One of our first experiences that shaped this advice took place during a trip to Boston, which concluded with a week-long cruise to Quebec, Canada. We were among the many leaf peepers of the season. After exploring Boston, we set sail—and within a day, my dear husband didn’t feel well.
Given his lung disease, we were understandably concerned when he developed a fever and his cough worsened.
Medical Care, Ship-Style
While we’d both been sick on cruises before, we had never considered calling the ship’s doctor. I always pack our small traveling pharmacy in my bag and can pretty much handle travel illnesses on my own.
This time was different, though, so we didn’t hesitate to make the call to the medical staff. The nurse asked us to stay in our room so a medical assistant could come to us and test us for COVID-19—a necessary precaution, of course.
Since I didn’t have any symptoms and tested negative, I could move freely about the ship. My husband, though, was quite ill. Despite also testing negative for COVID-19, he had to remain in the cabin. Not that it mattered—he felt too bad to do anything.
The ship’s medical staff offered a wheelchair to take him to the doctor, but he was able to make it there on his own. Once there, the doctor showed us to a small room and she immediately got to work.
Grateful for Care Beyond Expectations
The doctor took the time to understand his lung disease and carefully review his medications. She understood the danger of a sickness like this for him. She treated him appropriately, starting him on antibiotics to stave off pneumonia and prescribing a cough suppressant so he could finally rest.
She checked on him daily after that. Meanwhile, the crew was incredibly kind—delivering meals and snacks to our room and treating him like he was staying in a suite with personal butlers. Every time I heard a soft knock at the door, I knew something thoughtful was arriving for him. Their care brought a quiet comfort to what could have been a stressful experience, and we were deeply grateful for it.
Once he felt better, he was cleared to leave the cabin since he had never tested positive for COVID-19. Although we missed exploring the Canadian coast, we still look back on that trip fondly. Boston was lovely, and the excellent medical care he received made the trip home more relaxed and enjoyable.
People often seem reluctant to call the doctor while on a cruise, but our experience was great. In the future, we won’t hesitate to utilize the onboard medical staff (although I will still travel with my small traveling pharmacy).
We were also glad we had trip insurance—while the care wasn’t terribly expensive, the insurance company reimbursed us for the doctor’s visit (only the first one was charged), the medications, and an excursion we had to miss.
Being on a cruise and getting sick is one thing—you have a doctor and medical facilities on board. But getting sick in a developing country is something entirely different. That’s what happened to me in Costa Rica.
Sick in the Rainforest
During our last trip there, while in La Fortuna, I suddenly became very ill. I’ve had bouts of traveler’s diarrhea before, and I have had food poisoning, but this was entirely different. I couldn’t hold anything in my stomach, including water. We didn’t know whether it was viral or something else.
That morning, we were supposed to go on a guided kayak trip down the Rio Frio, but I couldn’t do a thing. I was extremely dehydrated, weak, and achy. My husband contacted our tour company representative to explain the situation and why we were unable to make the trip. She immediately urged us to visit the local clinic and said she’d handle the Rio Frio tour guide.
A Visit to the Village Clinic
She told my husband where the clinic was, and after he gently convinced me I needed to see a doctor, we headed straight there. It was easy to find, and we just walked right in. A nurse quickly took me to a room to check my vitals and handed me a bucket—just in case I needed to puke again. Before long, the doctor arrived, gave me a good once-over, and asked a bunch of questions.
Since the symptoms came on so suddenly and there were no signs of infection, the doctor suspected my body was reacting to the different water source. He explained that while the water is clean and filtered, some people’s stomachs react simply because the water is unfamiliar to them. I shouldn’t have been surprised—my body tends to react to things most people shrug off, hence my small traveling pharmacy.
The doctor was kind and reassuring. He asked, “Do you want the medicine that will make you tired, or the one that won’t?”
“I’d prefer to stay awake,” I replied. He laughed and quickly agreed. “You have things to do!”
He wrote two prescriptions—one for nausea, the other to ease my intense intestinal spasms—and handed them to my husband. He advised coconut water (straight from the coconut) for hydration, and once I could keep that down, I should eat something light.
When we asked for the bill, the doctor refused to charge us. My husband tried to insist, but the doctor was adamant. I thanked him sincerely, and he moved on to his next patient.
Local Remedies and Liquid Gold
We went to the local pharmacy to fill the prescriptions. While we were there, my husband asked the pharmacist if she could recommend a place to eat that might be gentle on my stomach. She thought for a moment, then wrote down the name of a restaurant and told us how to get there. It was more of a local restaurant, not on the tourist routes. We would need a car to get there.
From there, we stopped at a nearby fruit stand and bought a fresh coconut for each of us. The vendor chopped them open, and we sat at a shaded picnic table under a tree, sipping the chilled coconut water while I took my medicine.
Sitting there, trying not to heave, I wondered if we’d have to cut the trip short. But even then, there was a strange kind of peace—like the place itself was gently holding me. The breeze rustled through the trees, the coconut water was cool and slightly sweet, and for the first time all day, I felt the edge of the nausea begin to soften.
We lingered for about an hour, waiting to see how I would feel. A few times, I thought I might lose it all again, but the medicine finally kicked in. When it became clear I could keep it down, I pushed my boundaries and had another coconut. It was delicious!
Comfort Food from a Stranger’s Kitchen
After the coconut water had settled and I didn’t feel as weak, we went to the recommended restaurant. The owner seemed surprised to see us—it was just opening for the day, and we certainly were not locals. My husband explained how we ended up there, and the owner welcomed us in warmly.
While my husband browsed the menu, I had no idea what to order—my stomach still felt like a gamble. The owner stopped by the table, took my husband’s order, and told me he would prepare something special for me. I didn’t know what that meant, but I felt his sincerity and accepted his offer. My dilemma of choosing a meal was solved.
It took longer than we expected for our food to arrive. We saw the wait staff bustling by, delivering plates to other tables, and I started to wonder if we’d accidentally been put on the slow track. But no worries—we hadn’t been forgotten. Instead of the usual wait staff, the owner himself came over and personally delivered my husband’s meal and set a plate in front of me.
He explained this was the dish Costa Ricans make for sick family members—fresh, bland enough for a delicate stomach, but still full of flavor. It was like a gentle hug on a plate—simple chicken and rice, soothing to the body and soul. It wasn’t on the menu; he made it just for me.
I was able to hold it down and started feeling better almost immediately. The color returned to my face, and even the restaurateur noticed the difference, stopping by to smile and check in. His care was another example of kindness offered without hesitation.
Healing Help and a Lasting Impression
On our way back to the hotel, we stopped by our tour organizer’s office to thank her. She lit up when she saw me up and about. She told us the tour guide had offered to take us out two days later, once I was feeling better. We were thrilled—grateful for the care and the second chance to go on that excursion. You can read about it here.
She hugged me and reminded me to keep drinking coconut water—a natural source of nutrients and electrolytes. It was sweet of her to share her advice.
I felt genuinely cared for. From the doctor who refused to charge us, to the helpful pharmacist, the kind restaurant owner, and our thoughtful tour representative—each person offered something from the heart. Yes, in a way, they were doing their jobs. But they also went far beyond what was required. No one took advantage of us. Instead, we experienced sincere human kindness and empathy.
What These Moments Taught Me
So now, when people ask if we’re afraid to travel in case we need medical care, I answer honestly: “Not at all.”
Because when my husband was sick at sea, the ship’s doctor treated him with skill and compassion, and the crew treated him like royalty. When I was ill in Costa Rica, strangers cared for me like family. A doctor gave his time freely, a pharmacist offered thoughtful advice, and a restaurant owner cooked me a healing meal from the heart. No one saw us as tourists—they saw humans in need.
Fearless Travel, Fueled by Human Kindness
I still carry travel insurance and my small traveling pharmacy wherever we go. But more importantly, I’ve learned that illness often brings out kindness, turning strangers into helpers and reminding me that the world is still full of good.
So travel while you can. Go gently, go boldly—but go. Don’t let fear write your story.
- J.S. Whaldo
