It's been awhile, I know. Pull up a chair.
I am still sick. I still don't know what I'm sick with. Are y'all sick (ha) of hearing about this yet? Who cares, this is my blog, deal with it.
Want to see what my life looks like? It looks like this:
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| Plus all the other supplements that I've already taken and thrown away in the last half year. Not picture, all of the RAW GARLIC THAT I EAT WHOLE EVERY DAY. |
Anyhow, I have a gastroenterologist appointment on April 12th. If you are very poor and don't have insurance it is very very hard to see a gastroenterologist. Hence why it's taken me six fucking months to see one. Hopefully they will be able to tell me what's wrong with m body, maybe even help me help myself, and then maybe I'll be able to move on with my life.
In the meantime I've taken tests. Lots of tests. Lots of tests that cost lots of money. Blood tests, stool tests, etc. They've all come back negative. Negative for what? Oh, everything. You name it. Parasites, ova, candida, h. pylori, blasto hominis, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. My blood tests? They look fine. The only abnormality I've heard from a medical professional's mouth is that I "have a slightly below normal white blood cell count". Great, does that mean anything? I don't know. It doesn't seem like my tests aren't indicative of anything insidious, and I honestly think all of the doctors I've seen up until this point aren't very concerned because it appears that I'm in great health. And maybe I am. Except for, you know, the fucking severe muscle spasms that happen in and underneath my abdominals, the crippling side and back pain that I experience for no real reason, the inability to eat anything without immediate consequences such as unexplained burning pain all throughout my gastrointestinal tract or the sharp stabbing pain in my descending colon, the inability to pass stool or gas and the accompanying pain and bloating that brings. You know, other than those minor concerns, I'm doing great.
Needless to say, it has been difficult to work, difficult to exercise, difficult to eat, difficult to fucking live. But regardless, this illness hasn't killed me. I'm still alive and I still have hope. I still have plans, god damnit.
These are the things I know: I am sick. On April 12th a medical professional will tell me what sort of weird alien has decided to inhabit my body and ruin my life. Immediate after, I will dedicate my life to eradicating said alien, armed with accurate and important information about my enemy. I will hit them where they're weakest and refuse to do anything to bolster their strength. I'll flush their fucking ass down the toilet and say good riddance. Then I will mark down this time, these last six months, as the worst six months, past or future, of my life.
Then, May 7th will come around, and if you happen to be in Campo, California on this day, perhaps you'll see me. I'll be standing at the border of Mexico, at the new PCT terminus, reading through endless amounts of overused John Muir quotes left by previous thruhikers before signing my name and leaving an equally overused quote by someone that I'd at least like to think is a little more obscure. Then I'll start walking. I won't stop until I hit Canada, and then just for shits I'll put a couple more miles in.
These are the things I know: In my darkest moments, I think maybe thruhiking is a thing of my past, regardless of however bad I want it. Why? Because my body just won't allow it anymore. But guess what. I am an incredibly determined person, and I never compromise on any promise I make to myself. And I made myself a fucking promise. We are all going to fucking die someday, but I'm not dead yet, and regardless of whatever some asshole doctor says to me on April 12th, I'm going to hike the motherfucking PCT this year, even if it means eating nothing but raw pumpkin seeds and kale the whole fucking way.
See y'all out there.
