Last night was one of the best Fourth of Julys I’ve had in a long time. A new friend of ours joined my husband and I for the evening, and we headed to the beach around 6 PM. As soon as we got there, we could tell from the mostly-empty parking lot that we were right to hope that this would be the one beach that would not be crowded. Black’s Beach – known as a nude beach – is on the west side of the UCSD campus, only two miles from where we live. The entry to it is at Torrey Pines Gliderport, and there is a large, free parking lot. From there, it is a very steep staircase descent straight down the cliff, which partially accounts for it being a little quieter at this beach. Whatever you carry down with you, you have to carry back up.
We got our stuff together and made our way down, stopping every few minutes to take in the incredible view, to breathe the fresh salty air, to watch the hangliders and the ravens, and to take pictures. The sun was getting low, and a cloud bank hung over the sky and down to nearly the horizon, but not quite – so that there was a bright strip of golden light against the deep blue ocean. A lone sailboat cut across the waves, making for a postcard you’ve seen at every ocean tourist town. Aside from the naked volleyball game happening down the beach a ways, there were just a handful of small groups of people (clothed) sitting on the beach, and a few individuals strolling down the shore. It was peaceful. We found our spot, equidistant from two other groups of people, laid out our blankets and sheets, and congratulated ourselves on the brilliant idea of spending the 4th in this incredible place. Our friend had pre-made some watermelon margaritas, and we toasted, and pulled out the wonderful snacks we had brought with us, the cheeses and crackers and olives and strawberries and figs, to name a few. We watched the sun get low on the horizon, and rejoiced that it wasn’t cold out. Our friend grilled up fresh corn with a homemade hoisin glaze and served it with chives and jalapeños, and we had tofurkey dogs with mustard and grilled onions.
I knew that going to this beach for the evening meant that I was going somewhere – and with company – where there would be no bathroom. Not even a port-a-potty (unless I wanted to hike back up the cliff to use a very disgusting one). I had taken two Immodium, but I wasn’t about to avoid eating the wonderful treats we had brought with us. This night was about relaxing on the beach, and eating and drinking. I was prepared to face the consequences. I hoped that the Immodium would hold me, but it was becoming apparent to me before long that I would in fact have to empty my pouch before we made it back home. Once I admitted this to myself, I just stopped worrying about it. I would wait for the right moment, and I would deal with it. In the meantime, food, wine, and good company. The sun set and the sky got dark, and we began to see fireworks going off up and down the coast. At 9 PM sharp, La Jolla began its fireworks show at the Cove. As we expected, we had a perfect view of it. Independence Day. I will try not to gush over the analogous independence I feel as an ostomate, but independence is one of the most salient features of my post-surgery life. I can rely on myself. I am free of the tyranny of sickness.
At some point after the fireworks were over, our friend went off into the night to relieve herself, and I decided that my moment had come. I took out a large ziploc bag, sat on my heels, and emptied my pouch into it. In a jiffy, I had my pouch back in my pants, I sealed the ziploc, put it in another ziploc, put that in a blue bag and put it back into my backpack to pack out. Long before she returned, I was done with it, and darned proud of myself for just treating it like the non-issue that it was. So, I have to pack out my shit. Not the end of the world. And as soon as my pouch was empty again, I felt a renewed sense of relaxation. I could enjoy being on the beach, I was glad I had indulged in the wonderful food, and I was independent.
My husband took out his backpacker guitar and he and our friend took turns playing and singing songs. The waves thundered in the night, white stripes of foam in front of us. Small campfires flickered down the beach. Me, on the beach at night, marveling. Me.
