Month: October 2016

Leaving Paladora the next morning I have my oatmeal with raisins, and an apple to cut up. My fancy contraption that plugs into my lighter heats up water while I’m driving. I also have my travel mug with a tea bag ready. I swept the van, packed things up in a way that they are easy to unload at the next park and was off.

I had to get some help from a neighbor camper. I was trying to take out a cater pin from my bike rack that was hooked up to my trailer hitch. It is a great bike rack that allows me to pull the bike and rack away from the back doors. This is very convenient because that is where my grub box and cooler stay. Somehow I took the pin out of the rack to lower the bike and never put it back. Or I lost it on the road in Palo Duro Canyon. I’m pissed, as now I have to load the bike in the van, but that is alright, things could be worse. But I can’t drive 500 miles with this bike rack hanging off of my vehicle, so, I have to try and take it off. I can’t get this pin out, agh wish the other one would have been that stubborn, it might not be lost now. Going across the way to the large RV homes where I have seen a big screen tv playing cable through the satellite antenna mounted on the top. God only knows how they got that monstrosity down the canyon road. I felt I had my life in my hands with a van. I have watched the two RV’s one next to the other, looks like kids and their parents. The younger ones in their smaller RV tend a crying infant for the evening. This is their family affair. A man makes pancakes as I walk up. “Is there someone who could help me remove a pin from my trailer hitch?” A young blond woman, I predict is the mother of the infant, tells me she has a burly fireman that can give me a hand.
He comes over and finesses the cotter pin out of the trailer hitch. Part of me thinks. I want to do this alone, but doing things alone does not mean not asking for help when you need it. I thank him and finish packing up.

Finished packing I get in my van and tick, tick, tick. I can’t believe it; the van is dead. How embarrassing. I go to the camp host, and he is not in, another young couple drives by, and I ask them for a jump. He is younger than my daughter and gladly helps, but nothing works.
I wonder if it is the critters that I thought I heard under the hood of my van last night. Whatever it was they seemed like they were having a grand time chasing each other around. It sure sounded like it was under the hood.

Later the fireman comes back over as he sees me waiting for AAA. Yes, AAA will come to a campsite. “Want me to give you a jump?” He asks. I bought jumper cables before I left, just in case and I’m so glad I did. I told him about the young man that just tried, and he said, well let’s try. Here is what I learned. If a battery is dead, it may take up to 10 minutes. When he put the jumper cables on the van and then on his small jeep, I was thinking, this little thing is going to jump my big van, he wiggled them a bit. I asked, “What are you doing?” “You want to get a good connection, ” he said. Then he turns his car on, and we sit there for a while. I learn he is no longer a fireman but instead has gone into his own business selling wood chips for horses. I never knew there was such a business, but he seems happy about that. I am sure it is less stressful than being a fireman. After the 10 minutes he tells me to start my van, and sure enough, it starts.

I learned I should not turn the car off for about 15 minutes so that the battery could charge. My daughter says to find an Oriley or Auto Zone. They will put a test on the battery to check the life of the battery. She also says that I might need a new one. Apparently, their is an expiration date stamped on batteries, Who knew? I find an Oriely in the neighboring town, and they tell me my battery has 1/4 more life. I should be ok for a while.
I have decided that while on this trip I will turn my van on for 10 minutes each night to get it charged and maybe cool or heat the van, just in case. I can’t imagine that my going in and out of the van wore the battery down. The lights I’m using in the van are from the electrical outlet, so that is not it. I only assume that having my doors open to my camp kitchen has caused this.

Now that my battery has a stamp of approval it is on the road to the next stop. I could get used to this kind of life. Even with the CVS episode and the dead batter, I do love this. My van has been revived and my soul is also getting that jump.

Breathing in life,
Pusche

I don’t know when I realized that what this first loan camping trip was doing was a sort of test drive for the rest of my life. I would face whatever came, I would explore and be adventurous, and I would forge and test my life skills and limitations.

Things can go wrong; preparation will help with these things. Have a first aid kit, meds, and “the essential 10” when you hike. Let someone know where you are either by phone or putting a note in your car on your dashboard. While in Palo Duro Canyon in the Panhandle of Texas the day I was supposed to leave I woke early that morning with severe stomach pains. Stomach pain is not something unusual for me. In the last few years, I was diagnosed with a condition that flares up from time to time. (CVS) Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome causes severe stomach cramps. Think similar to labor, with cramping every 5 minutes, accompanied by repetitive vomiting. Apparently, this condition is associated with people who have migraines, though a migraine has never accompanied my episodes.

What brings it on? Sometimes stress. It can be happy or sad stress. What was I stressed about? The job I just delivered and the vendor I was working with was a nightmare. Every turn they were trying to charge me more money and making my life miserable. I went through three managers at this vendor during this process, and this last one made me sick. Then a long time intern at the studio walked off the job while I was away. She was a friend as well as an intern, and later I realized she had to make it personal and a scene to be able to leave. But I thought of her as more than an employee she was like a daughter, and it caused me great stress. And the final straw was that the man I had just divorced, who I had let live in the house for a few more weeks until the closing of his house, was caught bringing a woman to my house while I was away. Thank you, Ring Doorbell with video capture. It was one drama after another. And this was my retreat and rest time.

Stress can bring on an episode of CVS. When it comes, there is nothing anyone can do. Before I was diagnosed, I thought I just had rotten luck with food poisoning. The doctor gave me migraine medicine to take, as a shot, but there is a very narrow window of opportunity to take it during an episode. I prepared, knowing that having the end of a stressful job, continued difficulty with the vendor and the end of a 19-year marriage might be a trigger. I brought the syringe. Unfortunately, I had unknowingly packed an empty vile of medicine. I took a pill orally hoping I would be able to keep it down long enough for it to work. My biggest concern- I had incredible spot deep in the canyon of Palo Duro. I had hoped I could extend my stay as I loved it there. It was not something to experience in the summer months and can be dangerous, but I loved my stay. However, when I called the park was booked, and I would need to vacate my space by 2:00 p.m. I went through various scenarios in my head. How I could pack up, where would I go that would have electricity? This is still the middle of the dessert, and I will need a fan at least. Most CVS episodes last 24 hours and leave me feeling wrung out.

All this started at 4:30 a.m.. I even got up in those wee hours and began to pack the campsite, knowing I would soon be incapacitated. I prepped for my own needs; kitchen washtub became a bucket to toss my cookies into, water was nearby, though I would not be able to drink anything. I had my phone in case of emergency with reception, thank you AT&T. I texted my daughter to let her know and tried to sleep between the pain and vomiting. At 8:30a.m. I called the ranger station and asked if I could talk to the camp host. Every state park has a camp host, and I made it a point to introduce myself to each everywhere I stopped. I had met Bryan and his wife a few days earlier.

The ranger notified the camp host, and he visited. I would have liked it better if I could have talked to him on the phone. I did not want to come out of my van, and I certainly could not invite him in. Plus, the flies at Palo Duro are so bad during the day; I could not imagine talking through the door and inviting those into my sick bed. I stepped out in my PJs and told him I only had the campsite for the day and was supposed to leave at 2:00. I asked him if there was a place I could go because I would soon not be able to drive. Preferably a place where I can have electricity. I gave him the rundown, embarrassing as it is. “Please don’t call 911 no matter what anyone hears from this van.” It is violent and painful, but it will go away. The only thing I need to be careful of is dehydration. I will also get very weak, so I am unsure I did my best but I don’t think I can pick up what is left to pack before I have to leave at 2:00,” He interrupted, “I can help you. But, let me see if I can get you this site for another night.” I looked confused, “It is impossible, I checked, they are booked.” But he walked away and after I went into my van to wrench one more time he came back and said, “You have another night. ”

What magic and special powers do camp hosts have in state parks? I can’t believe it. Very soon after our conversation, I started to feel better. I think the stress of just having to leave, pack up and also drive was adding to the stress of the condition. It can often be brought on by stress, and though I was in a wonderfully relaxing canyon, chilling, there has been a great deal of stress in my life that was also reinforced by having cell phone reception and being able to get nasty texts.

I slept in the van with the fan blowing until it was unbearable and I knew I had to venture outside. This was 11:45 in the morning and I was surprised how hot I was because I had just had the electric blanket taking off the chill and shiver that comes from some of these episodes. ( Thank God for state parks with electricity.)

Before sleeping. I also called the reservation line as I had made reservations for two other campsites along my way. I was unsure how bad this episode would be and if I would be able to make it. Usually, there is a forfeit of your deposit on a campsite if you do not call within 72 hours. I wanted to call on both because I did not know what would happen. Again the state park came through. I told them of my condition, and they waved the fee as a one-time courtesy. I would have paid; When I am in that much pain, I will do anything. I just need to take care of business.

I thought I might try some oatmeal and knew I had to get fluids in me. This canyon on a good day without exercise can play havoc with a body. Just as I was emerging from my cocoon, the ranger drove up, introduced himself and checked on me. I apologized for taking up the space that I was initially told was reserved, and he said no problem. Just check in at the ranger station when I leave.

I’m thrilled with how I have been treated through this episode. Will having this episode and collapsing in a canyon dissuade me from camping alone in the future? No, absolutely not. I’ll just be more prepared, bring my meds, and make sure I say hi to the camp host, or know where they are and feel confident with my choices of stay. Plus as time goes on and I move into my own and discovering more of who I am I know the stress will leave.

State parks, at least Texas state parks rock. The rangers rock, the host’s rock. Thank you, Palo Duro. You fed my soul and helped me to take care of my body.

I made it through so many CVS episodes alone while living in a house with a man. This was no different. In fact, I had more support from these strangers.

You can do this!
Pusche

While tending my campground a woman in her 70’s walk by carrying a toy poodle. “Are you camping alone?” She asks as she walks past my van.  I’m not sure, but she seemed to be looking at my space with this sort of longing. “Yes Mame,” I reply.

“I used to have a set up similar to this when I was young. I loved it. “I’m no longer alone, and now I camp in an RV.”  I tell her it is nice to meet her, but I wish she would have stayed, and told me more of her stories.  I think of her often. These simple words seem to give me permission and approval, not that I needed any, but I felt an instant camaraderie with her.

Feeling so good about my decision and hope I can do this more in my life.

Pusche