I Am A Diabetic Superhero.

This is the beginning of an influx of Joshua Bell posts.  In my three days in Jamestown, NY, I had enough weirdness for multiple posts.

This one focuses on the day I got there.  Friday.

I checked into my hotel and did my standard check for bed bugs.  I found none, so that made me happy.  I was looking at things in the area and I found the Lucy and Desi Museum, but that was kind of it.  I asked at the front desk where I should eat, and they directed me “downtown” and said there was a car festival of some sort going on.

This is what it looked like outside of my hotel, and it smelled nice like trees.  But also there was a giant cemetery to the right of this view.


I got down there and got very confused as to where to park, but ultimately I ended up with Bastard Parking (Bastard Parking is such good parking that people say “That bastard” because they are jealous) by accident.  I walked down the street and sure enough, there were cars.  The entire street was blocked off and cars were all over the place.  And Car People.

I walked up and down the hill/street and tried to figure out where to eat.  I walked into a bar that was recommended by the Hotel People, and it was….a rectangle.  Like, you walked in and it just went straight back, like a train car, but it was not cool like a train car.  Then I saw the sign that said Cash Only, and I scooted my way back to the front door and left.

I had been walking for about 45 minutes at this point.  Here is a quick lesson in Diabetes.
Insulin lowers blood sugar levels.  Exercise = insulin, so exercise lowers blood sugar levels.  Food raises blood sugar levels.  That is all you need to know for this.

My blood sugar was low.  I had to decide on a place to eat, so I went to another recommended place called Forte, which turned out to be very fancy.  They sat me in the front window, which was super cool for two reasons.  I could watch people:

And I was between two Pokestops that had lures going:


I ordered Pepsi (mmmm, real Pepsi) and then attempted to read the menu.  It was all spicy things that I do not like, and seafood.  I recognized steak and I recognized chicken. I asked which I should order and the lady said “Do you like anchovies?”  Obviously I do not.  So she told me to order the steak.

While I waited I caught Pokemon nonstop.  It was amazing.  And every five minutes the Pokestops would let me get the free stuff.  Then I was presented with a giant round ball of bread, which turned out to be the most amazing bread on the face of the earth.

Then came the steak, which was on top of mashed potatoes.  There are two issues with this – one is that I hate it when things are put on top of each other, and the other is that the mashed potatoes had onions in them.  Then…I didn’t know what fork to use.  I knew I was already being judged because I was sweaty, underdressed (jeans and tee shirt), alone, and I was playing Pokemon in a fancy restaurant.  I texted everyone I knew with this picture:


I sat there for about 5 minutes waiting for someone to tell me which fork to use, and in that time, the waitress came back and asked if everything was alright.  I did not want to say “Yes, I am just waiting for someone to tell me what fork to use” so instead I said “Yes, I am sure it is but I have not tried it yet because I do not know what fork to use.”  At that exact moment, Jocelyn texted me with the answer, and before the waitress could say anything, I said “Oh, never mind, I’ve got it.”

I am not normally an eater of steak, so I cut off a hunk and shoved it in my mouth and bit, and it was a hunk of fat.  You know that feeling when you bite into fat?  That is exactly why I do not eat steak.  I panicked and immediately spit it out into my napkin.  I tried to keep my napkin secured on my lap with said chewed up hunk of fat in it, but at some point, it fell out on to the floor.  Then I had to text people and ask what to do when I drop a chewed hunk of fat on the floor.  The only responses to that were my nieces, ages 13 and 10, and the 13 year old’s friend.  “Kick it further under the table and pretend you don’t see it”, “Drop your napkin and bend down and pick it up” and “Stand up and say “someone put steak under my table”” were my options.  I opted to ignore it.

Two Pepsi’s, steak, and bread pudding later, and I did not take any insulin.  Here is the thing – when you walk, and you generally do not walk, that can affect your blood sugar for up to 10 hours later.  I was terrified of dying again so I was bound and determined to keep my blood sugar high and not let it drop suddenly.  I did not take any insulin at all to account for the food I ate.  Around midnight, my blood sugar was 430 – super high.  Around 1:30am it was around 350 – super high.  At 1pm the next day it was 111 – perfect.  All without me taking insulin.  All because of the walking affecting it over the course of the night.

Normally for a meal of that caliber, I would have taken at least 18 units of insulin.

When I drove back to my hotel, I took side streets and I drove really slow so I could catch Pokemon.  Instead, I caught a real live cat.  He was just sitting there, so I stopped and hugged him and pet him and talked to him and put him in my car.  He was happy to come with me, but then I thought that he looked very healthy and he seemed to enjoy where he was, so I thought maybe that was his yard.  I put him back on his sidewalk, and he appreciated not being catnapped.

That was my Friday night, stay tuned for Saturday!

Darcy J, Catnapper Extraordinaire.

Have you ever looked a word for a really long time and just thought, that is not really a word?  You KNOW it is a word, but the more you stare at it, or say it, the less you believe it is a real word.  I just did that with the word bank.

So anyway, a few nights ago I heard a cat meowing in a backyard a few houses away from mine.  It wasn’t just like “meow”, it was a howl meow like Mr. Meow Meow makes when it is the middle of the night and he wants me to play.  He yowls, and then he brings his toy up to my room and puts it on me.  I wake up to a toy on me every day.  I love my cat.

But this other cat, I opened the porch window and I said “Kitty!” and the meow got closer.  I kept saying “Kitty” and I saw a shadow (it was dark out) on the other side of the fence in my neighbor’s yard.  Then the shadow/kitty came to the fence door (it’s not called a door, what is it? I mean, it’s a door, and it’s a fence, but I swear there’s another word for it), and he climbed the fence and came right up to the porch window.  The wall part of the porch comes up to my waist, and then from there it is screen windows with a glass part that slides open.  So I slid open the screen, bent over the wall part, and picked up the kitty and brought him in the porch.  He was perfectly happy to come in, and he was very cute.


My neighborhood has a Facebook group, so I posted his picture, and soon enough his owners were found, but it was 1am and they were not answering their phone.  I couldn’t keep the kitty (his name is Frosty) on my porch because he did not care for my cat (who was not on the porch, but was visible through the sliding porch door).  I asked if anyone could take Frosty until his owners could get him, and a lovely fellow night owl down the street said she could. Her name is Bobbi.  That is important for later. Frosty’s owners got him in the morning and all is well.

Then last night I was driving home around midnight and saw a tiny kitty.  I stopped and the kitty came right up to me and got in my car, so I drove her home with me and walked out to say hi to my mom on the porch and said “I found another cat”.  This kitty REALLY did not like Mr. Meow Meow, so we had to make all kinds of barricades so that we could go in and out of the porch without them sneaking.  I posted this kitty in my neighborhood group, too, and at 6am someone said “That’s my kitty” and texted me.  I was not awake at 6am but the text woke me up and he asked where I live so he can come get her.  I told him, and I told my dad “Dude is coming for kitty” and then I went back to sleep.  My dad said the guy was very nice, and said the kitty does not go outside, she stays inside, but sometimes he takes her for walks and she follows right along with him.  So the guy took the kitty and walked her home and my dad watched them the whole way down the street, and the kitty followed right at his feet.  It turns out this kitty that looks like a baby is 14 years old.


While I was posting about that kitty, someone else posted a picture of a kitty and said “Hey, this guy has been hanging around our house, anyone know him?” and, full circle, Bobbi, the fellow night owl who took Frosty for the night, said “That is my cat!  He ran away in March!”.  The people whose house Kismet is hanging out at (that’s his name, Kismet) said they have a dog who will eat Kismet, and can’t hang on to him.  I said if they can catch him, I will house him until Bobbi gets back from vacation on Friday.  Our first attempt to catch him failed, but now Kismet House People are prepared with cat nip, wet cat food and a carrier, so they are going to keep trying.  My method of “scruff him and put him in a box” did not succeed.


They finally caught Kismet, and I brought him to work and everyone LOVED him.  He loved everyone.  He loved Hoenir, the dog.

Kismet and Hoenir 1

Kismet and Hoenir 2

Kismet had a happy reunion with his family, and his very own dog, Jack.

There you go.  My cat adventures.  It makes me nervous and causes me stress, but I am glad that so far each kitty has been returned home.  It also makes Mr. Meow Meow nervous and causes him stress.



You Knew It Was Coming.

Of course I have to write a blog post about almost dying.  I pretty much said everything about it on Facebook, but I am going to write about it here, too.

I almost died, you guys!  At first I thought it was kind of funny, like, haha, I totally could have died but I did not die.

Then I thought about it, and I COULD HAVE LITERALLY DIED.

You see, what happened was my blood sugar went really low while I was asleep.  In 25 years of being Diabetic, I have woken up when this happens.  Every time I woke up.  Never have I not woken up.  Usually I start having a nightmare about blood sugar levels, and then I wake up sweaty and I know my blood sugar is low.  I kind of considered it my super power – in 25 years I have never passed out or needed medical assistance because of my blood sugar.

This time, I did not wake up.  There was also zero reason my blood sugar should have dropped that low in the first place (it was about 20).  ALSO – my blood sugar has been lower than that and I have been conscious.  My mom randomly decided to look in my room at 6am and tell me to turn over because I was snoring weirdly.  My mom is never up at 6am.  She also does not usually come into my room.  She tried to wake me up, and then my dad tried, and I did not wake up.

As far as I knew, I was asleep and not dreaming.  Then I started having really weird dreams about people standing over my bed looking at me.  In the dream, it wasn’t anyone I knew, it was strange men.  Then I actually woke up, and the men were really there, they weren’t a dream at all.  And I had an IV in my arm.  And my parents were there looking paler than anyone I have ever seen.  And my first thought was that my blood sugar was low and this wasn’t really happening.

Here is the thing about low blood sugar – and I have written about this before – when it is low, it seems like your body and face are not connected to the rest of you.  Like you are watching someone else sweat and eat three bowls of cereal, but it is not actually you.  You can stare at someone right in front of you, and you hear them like they are under water and you aren’t really sure if they are there or not.

So I wake up, and I was 99% sure they were not really there, but they were.  So I said “Oh my gosh, I thought you were in my dream but you’re really here”.  Surreal does not even begin to describe waking up to people in your room.  I didn’t have my glasses on, so that made it even more weird.  One of the EMT guys said something like “It’s not every day you wake up to guys as cute as us in your room” and I said “Where are my glasses so I can see how cute you are?” and someone handed me my glasses.  They were cute.  And I was wearing my CLASSIEST pajamas – a wife beater tank top and shorts.  The last time I shaved my legs was 2012.  I was also probably drooling, but I don’t know that for sure.

30 minutes later, the EMTs are gone, I’m eating peanut butter toast, and I realized my cat has not made an appearance.  I was positive he was in the house because he is not inclined to run outside, but we didn’t know if he got so scared, he just ran out with the EMTs, or what.  So my parents scoured the neighborhood…and found a random black cat. I stayed in the house eating my toast and shaking a bag of treats and searching every corner.  TWO HOURS later, Mr. Meow Meow came downstairs.  I have no idea where he could have been.

But anyway – I could be dead right now and that is a weird thing to think.  If I were, I am happy to report it would have been painless and I would not have known anything happened.  The shock was waking up, not NOT waking up.  So here’s to dying in your sleep, but also, I do not want to die!  That is not something that should happen yet.  If my mom didn’t randomly stop by my room, I would never have woken up.  If I lived alone, boom, dead.  This is why I will never live alone – I must marry a gay man.

So that is my story.  You’ve all heard it at this point, but now I have written it in my blog, so that means it officially really happened.

Here is a picture of Jenna holding a pile of kittens.


Here is a picture of Mr. Meow Meow.


Darcymon Go.

I have never Pokemon’ed in my life, but I am addicted to Pokemon Go.  Everyone else is, why shouldn’t I?

I purposely went to a park and walked. It was actually really horrible, there were mosquitoes and every one of them bit me, and some went inside my ear and buzzed.  I met a lot of geese who seemed very unafraid of me, I stood very close to them and they just looked at me.  They did not let me pet them, that made them honk at me.

There were other people in the park Pokemoning as well.  I walked past them and we looked at each other’s phones and nodded at each other.  There were also people who were not Pokemoning, they were just regular walking.  And a lady and her husband were pushing a screaming kid in a kid pusher thing and they tried jogging and the lady said “Stop it, I’m fat, that’s enough!” and it was funny.  They also kept saying they smelled blueberries, but I smelled no blueberries.  I know this because they were walking in front of me.

I do not fully understand this game – I mean, I know I throw the ball and collect the little dudes that show up.  From there, I am not positive what to do.  I have to go to a gym, but I do not want to put my cute little creatures in a fight and get them hurt.

Pokemon has taken the place of my niece, Maggie.  She is my personal trainer.  She heard her mom and me talking about how I am fat and how I need to exercise, and she said she’d help, and I can’t say no to her, so I agreed.  We went on several walks together using Facetime (we don’t live near each other).  Then she told me I had to eat something green every day.  I felt that was fair, so I did.  But then Pokemon happened and now I walk with Pokemon and my niece is off the hook.

Laziness truly wins out, because I found that if I drive slowly around my neighborhood, it counts as walking and my Pokemon eggs will hatch.  I also catch the little animal dudes that way.  I drive around at night, going 5 miles an hour.  My neighbors probably think I am a creeper.

I would like to be able to do Pokemon things while I am in my house, rather than sitting in random parking lots, because you have to do a lot of random parking lot sitting in this game.

Oh and yes, my Pokemon name is CaptainDarcy.

Here is my dad and a Pokemon.


And here is proof I went outside:


Here is a Pokemon at my doctor’s office:


Here is a Pokemon visiting my Gay Husband, Brian, at Target.  Brian refused to look at the camera:


And here is an alcoholic Pokemon:


We Are All Going To Die During the RNC.

The RNC is coming to Cleveland.  So are Black Lives Matter people, anti-Black Lives Matter people, and probably the KKK, white supremacists, people with guns, unstable people (and I don’t just mean Donald Trump, there will be others as well), and all the crappy white people are going to cause trouble.

I just made a lot of blanket statements.

I do not like rich white men.  I do not like entitled white men with guns…or ones without guns.  I do not like uneducated hillbilly white men with guns.  I do not like anyone who thinks it is ok to solve a problem by shooting other people.  And a large percentage of these people are coming to my city next week.  I mean, I don’t like black men with guns, either, but so far, the odds seem to be that white men are the actual dangerous ones because they are the ones in power.

The police are probably terrified because they are expected to keep an entire city plus 50,000 extra people safe, right?  But then they are faced with the fact that every move they make is under scrutiny, so it will be what, 5,000 cops versus 50,000 extra people plus whatever Clevelanders decide to protest.  Those are not good odds for the police officers. All of these people are going to be carrying guns (not just the police) and how are the police supposed to tell which ones are dangerous?  Mistakes are going to be made and a lot of lives are going to be ruined.  We’re asking them to prevent citizens from being killed by other citizens, but we’re also telling them that they can’t use force against citizens, so they are damned if they do and damned if they don’t.

This is unrelated to actual excessive police violence, I am not commenting on that.  I am commenting specifically on the very difficult situation police officers will be in during the RNC.  If they do end up having to shoot someone, thinking they are preventing a mass shooting, and it turns out they are wrong, they will be lynched.  If they opt NOT to shoot the person, and that person DOES commit a mass shooting, the police will once again be lynched.

Isis will be there and the NRA will be there telling Isis it is their right to own assault rifles, and Donald Trump will be there saying we need to corral and tag every non white person, including Jews who are actually white, but they are not Donald Trump’s kind of white, so obviously, they are wrong.  My dad is going to have to wear a Star of David, and any of my friends of color are just going to have to not leave their houses.

Oh, and 100 woman plan on welcoming Donald Trump – naked.  Donald Trump will not be naked, the women will be.  It’s an art thing. But you know what will happen?  Donald Trump and all the other privileged white men will rape the naked woman and say they were asking for it.

Police officers will risk their lives and they will not know if they are risking their lives for the right people – did they just prevent a mass shooting, or did they just tackle an innocent person? Who knows.  With 50,000 extra people in the city, it is going to be hard to tell.  There are also going to be extra police officers, but they are still way outnumbered.

I swear I do not hate all men.  Just most of them.  Women need to be in charge of EVERYTHING and just calm everything the hell down for a little bit.  Even Isis.  They need to stop kidnapping and raping women and put them in charge of things.  Clean themselves up a bit.  Try to be productive.

In Dartopia, Donald Trump will get his own island, and it will consist only of him and sand.   He will try to build sand castles and turn them into hotels, but you know what?  The tide will come in and wash all of his work away every single day.  No matter where on the island he goes, the tide will follow – but only after he’s built his hotels out of sand.  He just has to live with himself for a good long time.  He will not be incorporated back into society. Some of my islands, the intent is to incorporate people back into society, but not Trump.  He stays on his island.  And a lot of food will be available to him, but it will all be food he hates.

In case any of this is unclear, I am a supporter of Black Lives Matter, I am an LGBTQ ally, I do not think anyone needs to own a gun, I think most police officers are sincere and want to save and help people, and I generally dislike men.  There’s a lot of other things about me and my opinions, too, but just in case my stream of consciousness writing made it sound like I was not supporting something that I actually support, I wanted to point that out.

Thank you and good day, sir.