Day 45-46
Today is my first day to go south to the Sequoia National Park side of the complex. As deliciously slow as the Kings Canyon side was, I expected Sequoia to be much busier, but it really wasn’t too bad. I have felt funny all day though. I slept in trying to make myself feel better, had a high calorie breakfast to bring my strength up, but just couldn’t shake the shakes. My first stop was the General Sherman tree, the largest tree in the world.
Remember how important precision of language is here, that it’s the ‘largest’, because it’s the tree with the most mass. The tallest trees, NPS says, are actually it’s cousins the Redwoods (regular sequoias as opposed to these giant sequoias.). I feel fortunate to have seen both types of trees on this trip so far.
I made a grave mistake by assuming I needed the exercise and should walk the paved, downhill .5 path to the tree, when I could have just taken the shuttle. I took my time though and had a lesson in how terrible people are. The trail is literally 9-10 feet wide and paved. There is enough room for everyone, especially the two 20-something young men walking towards me. We could split this trail evenly while passing each other and have more than 3 feet a person, but they choose to man-spread abreast the trail, refusing to move over as I pass. Not only that, but since they were staring at my cane, at which this point is in the dirt off the trail because they can’t be bothered to move over, I know they can see me. I had to pass this dude with literally inches to walk on, turning my shoulders sideways as not to get body checked. I just don’t get people.
I have noticed that when I don’t have the cane, people say hello and how are you, and sometimes will even start a short conversation, but when I have my cane, I am a ghost. The most interaction I get is when people look away quickly so I don’t see them staring. Beyond that, I am avoided, except for that people think they can walk through ghosts. People accidentally kick the cane but don’t apologize. Stand blocking doorways and when they realize they just move out of the way awkwardly, saying nothing. I don’t mind being a ghost, in fact I prefer being a ghost in public, but I do mind the implication that someone who is seen as disabled, or different, is lesser and isn’t acknowledged. Although the implication bothers me, I find the cane like a stronger version of a wedding ring; it’s man repellant. I’ve yet to have a man say or do anything nice or uncomfortable to me when I have the cane, whereas I started wearing my wedding ring full time again because it’s only 80% effective as man-deterrent.
I went to the Giant Forest Museum, but had to walk from the overflow lot, although a short distance, it’s through a hot, wildfire scoured section of the forest and my sick feeling was intensifying. If you don’t know me well, let me fill you in that I’ve gotten these sick spells since I was 15 years old. I get dizzy, hot, clammy, cold, uncomfortable, brain fog, unsteadiness, and eventually will either throw up and/or pass out. I have received very little to nonexistent help from doctors on this issue. The furthest I got was that it was hypoglycemia (opposite of diabetes, chronic low blood sugar), so I poked myself with a needle for 10 days to monitor it, per doctor’s orders. When the results came back that there was no issue, they decided I was fine. There was no, “well, it’s not this, so let’s send you to someone else who can see what it is,” or anything. That was it. I didn’t have hypoglycemia, so I must be fine. Never mind that I still have had the same issues for 15 years at that point. Passing out while standing in line for a movie is totally normal. Throwing up down your sleeve at work because you can’t make it to the bathroom fast enough is totally normal. Having to lie down on the ground at a friend’s wedding so I don’t embarrass her by passing out, like I did at a mall once, onto someone’s table of food, nonetheless. It’s not hypoglycemia, so I must be totally fine. I get angry when I think of this. This issue was the first sign that something wasn’t right with me, and was systematically ignored for 22 years, and technically, still counting.
I have learned to cope with it on my own with diet, rest, and avoiding heat. All of that helps, but it doesn’t always make any difference at all. Some days my body just feels like Aaron Kelly’s Bones and there’s nothing that can be done. After my Hypermobility Spectrum Disorder diagnosis from a rheumatologist in 2021, I learned there is something that almost always comes along with it called Dysautonomia, where your faulty connective tissues from hEDS means your autonomic nervous system and amygdala part of your brain are not made of sturdy material and do not function properly. All the sudden the passing out, heat intolerance that has gotten 10x worse, anxiety disorders, metabolism issues; all of it started making sense. I have started treating my mysterious ‘not-hypoglycemia-condition’ as Dysautonomia and have seen major improvement. I still have been unable to get any medical treatment though. Figures, right?
Sorry, I’ll pull you back from my tangent, when I was finally at the Giant Forest Museum. It was hotter than expected inside, and as stupid as it sounds and as much as I feel like a total whining weenie typing it, I was feeling quite suffocated by my mask and all the people around. So, I left. The only seating outside is large rocks, and although only a few of them had actual bodies on them, most of them were filled with people’s shoes, backpacks, lunch boxes. No one offered to move their inanimate objects so I could sit. I crawled up an embankment and found some shade under a tree to rest and cool down. I eventually made it back to the car, slowly and surely, trying not to throw up on the magical trees.
I had more I wanted to do, but I felt to sick I just grabbed a few groceries, ice, and a pint of gelato and called it a day. My dream of a campsite that’s been my fortress of solitude, now had neighbors. I’ll never understand why when an entire, huge campground has every site but one open, people will set up in the site right next door. It’s a version of urinal syndrome, I suppose. They weren’t bad neighbors by any means, I will just forever be perplexed. They do it in bathrooms, parking spots, movie theaters. If there’s one group in the movie theater, I’m always going to choose the seat pretty much as far away from them as possible. Same with a campsite. Can anyone enlighten me on this human behavior I don’t understand? Why come to the middle of nowhere and crowd up against someone when we are all here for the universal outdoors experience of nature and solitude.
I was supposed to get up this morning, on Day 45, extremely early and have my grand finale day of the trip to Mineral King, a high elevation and stunning portion of Sequoia, before I have the long driving days that will take me home. Problem is, I could barely sleep. I stayed up well past 2am just staring at the camper ceiling and putting my eye mask on to trick myself that it was time to sleep. I have had insomnia for a long time, but this trip has been blessedly restful, full of sleeps and dreams that I haven’t had in years. Last night was back to terrible. I finally looked at my clock at 6am and realized there was no way I was getting up in 15 minutes and driving three hours down and up a mountain for anything. Just as my insomniac pattern has always been, after 8am I start sleeping great. I woke up at 10 and knew I couldn’t sleep the day away, even though I wanted to.
Truth is I think I’ve hit my limit. That final hike to Weaver Lake did me in, and not resting enough the next day has put me over my threshold. By the time I recover It will probably be time to use my energy on the long drives east across the country. There won’t be a final hike to somewhere beautiful to celebrate my trip of independence. There won’t be a final alpine lake to dip my toes into, to prove to myself that I can still do these things. But that’s ok. I’m spending today at my campsite, sitting in a hammock. Reading books. Typing this update. I am watching the chipmunks and chickaree squirrels doing their daily chomps and chases. Tomorrow, my last day at Sequoia Kings Canyon National Park, I may do the same thing. Enjoy the nice weather. Enjoy being outside without melting into a wet spot on the pavement. Without passing out on someone’s Taco Bell.
Haylan
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