Righteous Indigestion

or, How I Went on an Inadvertent Vision Quest, Found My Balls In An Oasis, and Decimated An Indian Tribe

I’m starting over. 

To say I fell off the wagon might be accurate, but there wasn’t a wagon to fall off of.  Also, I didn’t fall that far.  It’s more of a realigning of my priorities and the means by which I achieve my goals.  I am doing the right thing, but I’m doing it the wrong way, and I need to find a better way to do the same thing but differently.  Let me simplify things.

I am starting over.

This past week into the weekend has been particularly stressful.  I had a long heart-to-heart with my cousin and realized that I had my priorities all out of whack.  I went through a desperate struggle to finally get the medical care that I needed so badly, and I still don’t have coverage.  I am moving forward with my life, but getting there is all out of control.  I feel like I was carrying groceries down icy stairs, slipped, all the groceries flew up into the air, and I slid down the stairs, managed to stay on my feet, and all the food fell back into the bag.  None of it was exceedingly graceful, but I landed and all is well.  Well, I’m still in mid fall, but all the groceries are back in the bag, and I’m pretty sure I’ll make it. 

But I went right off the South Beach Diet, delayed taking my blood pressure medication until I finished the Trader Darwin’s Complete Body Cleanse, and concentrated on putting myself in a happy place.  The Complete Body Cleanse feels like it worked.  I had intense gallstone pain prior to taking it.  I don’t anymore.  I was incredibly gassy the entire time I did it, and I would poop like it was a game show, and we wouldn’t win the Nissan Versa unless I filled the plastic bucket.  But it was expensive, and may have been a waste of money.  You can’t really purge gallstones.  You can only settle them.  But I took medicine that let my liver clean itself up, and that’s always good.  And now I’m on the blood pressure medication.

The doctor put me on Atenolol, which is also for angina.  I have to take it at night, because it’s totally making me groggy.  I get severe night sweats, and my heart always feels weird.  But I think it’s because my body is actually calming itself.  My blood pressure is down to 129/93.  That’s fucking huge. And I’ve taken two pills.  But I think it’s because my body was so used to running at full steam, that now that it is slowing down, it’s beginning to hurt.  My chest gets sore, but not stabbing pain sore.  More like muscle pain sore.  Like if you’ve been walking a while, and stop.  Your legs hurt.  My chest has been beating so hard, it’s now starting to relax.  My heartbeat is strong, but slower.  MUCH slower.  So that’s awesome.

My cholesterol is 204.  Which is not great, but I don’t need to be on medication.  My LDL is 137, and my HDL is 38.  So I’m just short of the safety zones on those.  But that’s the entire point of the South Beach Diet, is that it will reverse the cholesterol.  It did the last time I did the diet, and there’s no reason to expect it not to continue.  I had a 36 point switcheroo.  I don’t have kidney stones, or calcium issues, or diabetes dangers.  My triglycerides are in the good zone.   So as long as I keep taking my hypertension meds, I should be great. 

Saturday, Higginbottom and I decided to go to Anzo-Borrego State Park to see the desert bloom.  There are supposedly 400 different kinds of plantlife, and it only blossoms really strongly for two weeks out of the year.  So we drove the three hours plus to the park.  We packed a case of waterbottles and peanut butter pretzels, cereals, lots of starchy carbs for the exercise.   The park is the largest in California, and Higginbottom loves to take-a the photographs, so I said, let’s do it.  Me, I fucking hate nature.  I admire it, it’s great, but I’m not the camping/hiking kind of guy.  Even though my youth was spent running through Pennsylvanian deep woods over boulders and cricks. 

We got to the visitor’s center, which was packed like fudge.  Because everyone else had the same goddamn idea.  We strolled around the visitor’s center, admiring the different kinds of cacti and little flowers.  There was a cement walkway leading off towards the Campground Trail.  Now we knew that there was the Palm Canyon Trail that lead into Bouquet Canyon.  Supposedly this was where the really awesome flowers were.  So we walked the path.  It lead through a psuedo garden landscape, with little signs explaining the different foliage and fauna we would see. 

As we were coming around the path, I see a dark shadow springing towards us at high speeds.  My brain instantly processes that this thing was a rabbit, a wild hare, because it’s ears were literally 3 times the size of it’s body.  I throw both my hands out and back into Higginbottom to block her, shouting out, “WHOA!”  It turned out to be two rabbits dashing across the desert plain.  I was proud of myself that my instinct was the protect Higginbottom, not to flee.  She laughed at me, saying, “You were scared of bunnies?”  I told her that, yes, I was freaked out, but what worried me wasn’t the first rabbit, but whatever was chasing it.  Since, it could potentially have been a mountain lion or a coyote.  And if they saw all this meat, they’d probably decide on a bigger meal.  Because I am Wilderness Jones. 

We walked the 1/2 mile path to come to the campground, and saw a sign that lead down a sandy path that said Palm Canyon Trail 1/2 mile.  So just when we thought we were walking the trail, we found we were at the beginning again.  So we walked a full mile to come upon a smaller parking lot that was full.  This was the paid lot, which was the beginning of the actual Palm Canyon Trail.  There was a little sign that said, at the end of this rocky mountainous 1.5 mile hike is a beautiful oasis.  So we just hiked a mile to get there.  There was no water at the end of the trail, so we filled our four little water bottles and decided let’s give it a go. 

As Higginbottom sagely pointed out, it was very Zen.  Just as we thought we were at the end of our journey, we had reached the beginning.  I pointed out that it wasn’t as if we had to hike 1.5 miles.  We had to hike 3 miles, up and back, to get to the fresh water again, since there was no water suitable for human consumption at the oasis, which I found to be hilariously ironic.  But we didn’t just have to hike 3 miles, we had to hike that, and then the same mile we just went across.  So it was actually going to end up being a 6 mile hike.  In the desert.  Under a blazing sun. 

We went for it.

It was an arduous trek, up boulder strewn canyons.  It was very narrow, and we kept taking the wrong path.  It wasn’t exactly delineated out with a path or anything.  There were arrows here or there, and little number markers that were seemingly randomly strewn along.  There wasn’t much shadowy areas to rest.  And it was a crowded path, with at least a hundred or so hikers going along with us.  We would take constant breaks.  Higginbottom looked like she was getting heat stroke, and I kept asking her if she wanted to go back.  Because I couldn’t carry her back.  She would rest, and then we would push forward.  It was very spiritual.  I was proud of myself, because I was able to endure.  I kept looking back and helping Higginbottom along the way.  I didn’t want her to hurt herself, but I knew she’d be crushed if we didn’t make it. 

It was demoralizing at times, because there were some Abercrombiesque couples fitnessing their way past us.  Also, families with small children.  And groups of senior citizens.  But we made it along at our own clip, careful not to over exert ourselves.  As I said, I had been raised running through woods as a kid, and climbing up hills and mountains.  So I know to climb with your hands.  I looked like I was doing parkour at points, springing off of rocks and using the sides of things to slide myself along.  Once Higginbottom got into the stride, she was doing much better.  We finally crested the oasis, which was essentially a bunch of palm trees at the foot of a creekbed.  It was a huge shady, boulder-strewn area, where we rested.  I finished reading A Canticle for Liebowitz, which is about the end of the world, and a desert monastery.  It was the perfect place to finish up. 

We rested, and ended up eating the entire bag of peanut butter pretzels and we were still hungry.  I knew from having marathon running friends that we needed limited proteins and much carbs for all the exertion.   We weren’t sweaty, because all of our hydration was going to our bodies.  We had to conserve our water on the walk back, but the sun had gone down a bit, and we were rested, so it wasn’t too hard.  We finally crashed back at the cars, and told ourselves while we were out this way, we’d go visit the Salton Sea.  And get some seafood.

The Salton Sea is the world’s largest saltwater accidentally man-made sea.  I don’t know the full story, but wikipedia it, and you’ll see.  Anyway, we just followed the road 30 miles or so out to the Salton Sea.  It was nothing.  It was less than nothing.  It’s a trailer park desolated wasteland on one of the sketchiest beaches this side of Revere north of Boston.  We pulled up, Higginbottom snapped a photo, and off we bolted.  We didn’t even try to stop.

We guessed our way home by going north on the 86 until we passed Coachella.  Coachella, also a disappointment.  Though we didn’t actually enter the city proper.  Because there doesn’t appear to be a city proper.  Maybe it’s similar to Iowa City, and it’s a hip college town.  Or maybe it’s a desert joint in the middle of nowhere. 

Instead we ended up on the 10 West, and followed the same trail I took to LA a little over a year and a half ago.  I’m stealing from Higginbottom, but so far on the adventure, we’d learned many lessons.  Sometimes it doesn’t matter what path you take, it will always lead to where you need to go.  I truly love Higginbottom, because it was more important to me that she make it and she be okay, so it really strengthed our relationship.  I have strong stuff inside of me, and whatever I’ve been doing to better myself is working, even though I’m still wrestling with a crushing depression.  Also, fuck what other people are doing, go at your own pace, and you’ll get there, and you might get more out of it.  We got to see a desert bighorn, because we stopped.  We got to see iguanas and birds, because we were walking slow.  It worked out for us.  Also, no matter what a place has for name reputation, it means nothing.  That’s right Salton Sea.  I’m fucking talking to your dumb bitch ass.

So on our way home, I talked Higginbottom into stopping at the Morongo Casino to hit their buffet.  We got there, sat down, and proceeded to demolish their impressive layout.  We decimated that motherfucker.  I had to laugh that we went on a vision quest and THEN ended up at an Indian casino, but since when have I ever done anything the right way?  We piled up six or seven plates of garbage.  I have officially cured my need for bad foods.  No more will I crave fried foods (at least for another couple months) or deserts or chinese foods.   I’ve killed them.  I waged war with the Gods of Chicken Fried Steak and Taquitos.  I vanquished Baron Burnt Pizza, and his minions of Hush Puppies and Sausage Gravy.  Emperor Dessert Bar tried to hurl cake and cookie and creampuff at me, trying a final wave of “iced cream”, but my papaya fu is strong, and pineapple helps break down protein enzymes.   I kill you, Morongo Casino.  I kill you dead.

So home we arrived, and collapsed.  I have been running illness and fever, so I haven’t been able to eat much.  But as I said, I’m starting over.  Since I’ll probably be leaving my job, that means no more Y membership.  So my exercise regimen has to change.  I’m on the hypertension medication, and that’s working, so I have to keep tabs on that.  I’m running around for the new theatre troupe I’ve joined, and I’ve got rehearsals and meetings and all sorts of crap.  It’s wild.  It’s also hard to work my diet.  But I need to be on the South Beach Diet.  So I’m going to redo phase 1.  I’m already having problems trying to figure out how to eat right.

But I weighed myself this morning.  And I was 205.  So all my damage has been done.  And I can push myself below 200.  I have the will power.  I have been to the Oasis at the end of Bouquet Canyon, and I have cursed its Champagne Supernova.  I have defeated the proud warriors of the Pechanga Canyon Buffet, at Morongo Casino and Resort Spa.  I have carried Higginbottom into the mouth of Hell itself, and protected her from the killer rabbits and varied cacti.  I have proven my love.  I have miles to go before I sleep, but I am strong. 

I’ve got papaya fu, motherfucker.