Things I Say When My Blood Sugar Is Low.

Here is what I wanted to title this, but it will not let me do the line through the word in the title:  Things I Say When I Am Drunk Hypoglycemic.02aa91a33f8f48ad80a6c0ed1c785603

Yesterday I went out to dinner with some new coworkers, and when I arrived at the restaurant, my blood sugar was low and I knew it.  This meant I got to drink Coke, which is really amazing because I do not get to do that very often.  So there I am, drinking my Coke and “chatting”, but really, I am not chatting because my blood sugar is low and I cannot really follow any conversation that is happening, and quite frankly, I am not even positive there IS a conversation happening because there is a weird delay in my head and I am clenching my teeth for no reason and my face feels like it is not there anymore.  So…”chatting”.  Someone asked about my tattoos – or maybe I shouted something about my tattoos because that is entirely possible.  I pointed to one and said “This is my Green Day tattoo”, I pointed to another and said “This one means ‘fighting spirit'” and then to another and said “I don’t know what this one means.”  Everyone looked at me and said variations of “how can you not know what it means?” and I kept saying “I don’t know, I just don’t know what it means, isn’t that weird?”

I know damn well what my tattoo means and ironically, it means resilient.  I was not resilient in that moment.

Tonight I went out to dinner with my friend Karyn and her husband Nick, and once again, my face felt like it was not attached, I was clenching my teeth and starting sentences without finishing them – but this time I was not self aware enough to say “Dip shit, your blood sugar is low, STFU.”  So I kept talking.  One of the things I said was “Alex is Australian….wait, no he’s not.”  He is.  Alex absolutely is 100% Australian.  And that was my entire “story” about Alex – that he is Australian.  Somehow I decided I was wrong, and I corrected myself and just stopped.

Many years ago in high school my blood sugar went super low while I was the Chief of Police for the day.  I was doing this cool ass ride along with a police officer, and there was a lunch with the other city employees (i.e. my classmates who were elected as Mayor, etc) and their actual real life counterparts.  My blood sugar went low when we pulled a guy over for speeding.  I knew it was low, and I started eating Lifesavers, but they were not helping.  I ate an entire roll, and nothing.  My blood sugar kept plummeting.  I said some nonsense when the officer got back in the car, and then we went to the lunch where I ordered…iced tea.  A beverage with no sugar in it.  Because here is the thing about being Diabetic and having your blood sugar go low – you will NEVER admit that it is.  I do not know why.  “Darcy, I think your blood sugar is off” “NO IT IS NOT I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I AM DOING.” So iced tea does NOT help low blood sugar, Coke or juice does.  But denial.  So lower and lower it goes until I have no idea where I am, what is happening, I cannot feel my face, my eyes are so blurry I cannot see, I hear voices but cannot understand what they are saying, I am sweating profusely….and I decide now is the time to leave the lunch by myself and call my mom.  The thought to order Coke still did not come into my brain.  I felt my way along the wall until I got to the front desk (the lunch was a hotel restaurant) and I asked where a pay phone was.  Yeah – this was in like, 1993.  I go to the pay phone and call my mom, panicking and crying, saying I do not know where I am and she has to come get me and something is wrong.  We later apologized to the Chief of Police who thought I had a stroke or was in the active throes of death or something.

Often my blood sugar goes low in the middle of the night – 3 or 4am.  I wake up sweating profusely (I am talking pajamas SOAKED), and here is the extra weird thing – my left thigh goes numb.  I lie in bed for a good half hour trying to convince myself my blood sugar is NOT low, and finally I go downstairs and drink a glass of orange juice.  Here is another thing you may not know about low blood sugar – it makes you think you have not eaten in years, and that you are not only capable of eating, but you MUST eat every single thing in sight.  It is not uncommon for a Diabetic to eat 3 bowls of cereal, cookies, orange juice and a banana in a low blood sugar stupor.  I am 99% sure I posted about this before, and I am 99.5% positive I posted these memes before, but I cannot find that post, so here it is again.

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And it is not just me, obviously.  THERE ARE MEMES.  That means it is true.

All this is to say, if we are ever together and you look at me and I have the appearance of someone who is not sure if they are actually there or not, or I say that Alex is not Australian, or you see me eating multiple bowls of cereal, just gently say “Hey Darcy, why don’t you check your blood sugar?”  Chances are I will just yell at you and tell you I know for my damn self if my blood sugar is low, and you know nothing.  But then also I will drink glorious Coke and become normal again.

Thank you.  Happy Diabetes-ing.

Honey, You Are Nowhere NEAR New York.

About two weeks ago my coworker Matt said “We’re going to the Westminster dog show” and I jokingly said “If I wear a purple shirt, can I show up and pet all the dogs?”  (Purple is our color)  Matt said “We have an extra ticket, if you want to go.”  By “we” I mean the place where I work.  There is a part of the show where there are booths set up for each breed and you can go and pet every single dog.  That is the part I am going to.  The rest of the time I will be stalking theater tickets.

That was all I needed.  In two weeks I planned a trip to NYC, and of course, I could NOT just go for the weekend, I had to make it a week.  I bought a ticket for the show Disaster! on Thursday, so I have to get to NYC by 7pm on Thursday.  It is generally a 7 hour drive from my house to NYC.  To be on the safe side, since it is winter, after all, I figured I should allow 10 hours to drive.  I do not wake up that early.

My brilliant plan was to leave Wednesday night, drive at least 4 hours, and stay in a hotel so that I could wake up at a normal hour (11am) and just meander my way in to the city.

I said a long goodbye to my cat, taught my mom how to FaceTime on my iPad so that I can talk to him while I am gone, and packed up Hamster Car and left.

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My mom packed me a special bag so that if my blood sugar goes low I will have rescue items.  I think that is adorable.  What is even better is the bag she used.  I am fairly certain she has had this since my parents got married.

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Here is what was in it:

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What you see is a Thermos of orange juice, graham crackers, Pop Tarts, peanut butter, and my vitamins and a few prescriptions.  Oh, and the stuff I use to make flavored water.  I love this.

I set out ready for the road, listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  I drove for three hours.  And because of snow, I ended up at 11:30pm, less than an hour and a half away from my house.  I am at a hotel in Pennsylvania, wayyyyyy closer to Ohio than New York.

I came in and said “I was supposed to drive halfway to New York tonight” and the lady said “Honey, you are nowhere NEAR New York.”

Here are some of the reasons I did not get very far despite three hours spent in the car:

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You might notice that it is not actually snowing.  There was no snow falling from the sky.  It is on the ground, and even then, not in an impressive amount.  Pennsylvania just could not be bothered to plow it, so no one could drive.  You see how there are tracks that you could follow?  I followed those.  When I took this picture, the person behind me was blinking his lights and honking at me because I was driving 20 miles an hour.  This will be a puzzle for you to solve – please look at the picture and tell the asswipe SUV behind me exactly WHY I could not go any faster.  He did not seem to realize that a Hamster Car cannot just drive over a semi truck.

So anyway, I asked Male Australian Siri where the nearest hotel was, and he told me, and I got off the highway and chose the hotel that was nearest to the hospital signs that I saw, because this is me.  There is every chance I will need that hospital in the next 18 hours.  I might as well be within walking distance.

The only place with food open was the 24 hour McDonald’s.  Believe it or not, I do not eat fast food.  I eat a LOT, I just do not eat fast food.  But I got McDonald’s and sat in my hotel that has two beds, and I decided the one bed could be The Bed On Which I Eat McDonald’s and the other bed will be the Bed On Which I Sleep.

Before I even entered the room, of course, I checked for bed bugs.  This is imperative.  My fear of bed bugs is equal to my fear of lava and earthquakes.

I made the TV go on and it told me that Tropic Thunder would be on at 1am.  Given that I drank a Venti Iced Vanilla Latte in anticipation of driving until 1am, I am awake and looking forward to that.  I love Tropic Thunder.  While I am waiting for Tropic Thunder there is a show about Boko Haram and it confirmed my theory that men should live on an island by themselves.  But now it is about messing around with genetics to create designer babies and I do not know how it went from one subject to the next.

Also I want to be eating more food, because I eat at night, and I have no snacks.  I cannot eat my low blood sugar snacks because then my blood sugar will go low and I will be without snacks.

I am going to try to post in “real time” my NYC blogs so that I do not leave anything out.  That probably will not actually happen, but we will see.  Oh, and I forgot my scarf.  And I do not have a winter jacket.  I do have gloves, though.  And new shoes because my old ones had holes in them.  Ok and I am a horrible person – I mean, seriously, I have shame for posting this, but I sometimes think midgets are funny.  OMG.  That is so wrong.  You are not allowed to say that.  But look – this one hotel room accommodates Little People.  It is only one room, but that is better than none?

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I Went Out Of Doors Again.

Instead of going to bed because my Benedryl is kicking in and I am finally getting sleepy, I am going to write a blog about two things.  The first is about something that made me angry and the second is that I went Out of Doors again.

The ice bucket challenge.  What was the goal?  Raise awareness and money for ALS.  Did it accomplish the goal?  Why, yes it did!  I am so sick of hearing people say it is stupid to dump ice on your head because that is not going to cure anything.  OF COURSE IT WILL NOT CURE ANYTHING.  Neither does putting yourself through hell for a 3 day Breast Cancer walk and neither does a 5K for Diabetes.  The point is to get people talking about it, and MOST people who are not jerks make the video and donate money anyway.  This is proven by the fact that ALS donations have increased very significantly from last year to this year.  Criticize it all you want, it worked and did exactly what it was supposed to.  Very few people are actually saying “I choose ice over donating”.  The ice water videos are funny and fun, and so we laugh and we get to see celebrities (and who doesn’t love celebrities?) and we get to pick on friends AND we are suddenly saying the name ALS a lot more AND we are donating money to them AND we suddenly find out “Hey, my high school classmate’s dad died of this, I didn’t know that” AND this is what we call a win.  Naysayers can shove it.  I have never done a Diabetes walk because I know that I can sit on my ass right here and donate the exact same amount of money, but if someone is going to go for a walk to benefit me, more power to them.

Also, I would like to take this moment to publicly apologize to my friend Mary, whose point is that it is stupid if you choose to do the ice bucket INSTEAD of donating.  I absolutely agree with that.  I just think most of the videos are from people who donate AND do the video.  This picture is for Mary.

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Dogs for Mary.

On a happier note, I unexpectedly went Out of Doors tonight when AJ and I decided to walk in the Metroparks after dinner.  We went into the woods.  It was lovely.  I was attacked by a buzzing insect.  It buzzed at me and crawled on me and AJ did not believe me, but it did that twice.  Here are a series of pictures from the attack.  That is right, there is photographic evidence.  That is because I was taking a picture of the trees before I was attacked, and while I was attacked, I was swinging my phone at the bug, and it ended up taking a bunch of pictures.

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Before the attack.

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In the midst of the attack.

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The height of the attack.

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The end of the attack.

We heard an owl hoot, and we saw two cardinals, and then I saw a deer and that made me really happy.  I talked to the deer and he came towards me and AJ ran and said I was making him cranky.  Then the deer had a friend, but they did not come near me anymore.

But look, we went into the actual woods.  REAL WOODS.  Sort of.  Mostly.

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Real woods.

Here I am in the Real Woods.

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This is not a selfie.

My Mom Wants Me To Eat Dog Treats.

My mom reads Guideposts and there is almost always an article that is in some way going to save my life.  This time the article was about a man and his dog named Vinny, and Vinny developed Diabetes and there were no treatments that were working and Vinny was basically dying a horrible slow death.  So the guy goes to sleep one night and wakes up and starts writing down ingredients, and he goes out and gets those ingredients, mixes them up, feeds them to the dog, and the dog became his old self and lived another 5 years or something.  So now the guy makes dog treats called Dia-Treaties (get it?) for dogs with Diabetes.  My mom wants me to eat these.  She got so excited about them, she called the man and interrogated him (to his credit, he is extremely nice and sincere), and he said they want to try it on humans.  It is still being tested for the FDA, but in the meantime, my mom literally wants to buy these dog treats and have me eat them.  So this is the e-mail I sent to the guy to at least find out what ingredients are in the dog treats.

“Hi there,

My mom would like me to eat your dog treats. I am a Juvenile Diabetic (for 22 years) and am on an insulin pump, completely insulin dependent. I am extremely wary of any supplements or “natural remedies” because my pancreas is a nonfunctioning organ and I do not believe there is any natural cure for Type 1 Diabetes. My mom is very excited and hopeful about your product, and talked to Kameron on the phone, but I am still skeptical.

Could you send me a list of the ingredients and are you actually testing this product on humans?

Thank you,
Darcy”

Also, my mom left the oven on…again…and when she got home my dad said “I figured it would be alright if I turned the oven off”.  My mom said “Shut up and go upstairs”.  My dad said “No really, I thought it would be ok”.  My mom said “Hold the railing and go up the stairs, leave me alone”.  My dad said “Ok, but when we get a new oven you are going to….” and my mom said “I know, Kenneth, hold the railing and go upstairs to bed”.  My dad said “But you don’t understand, when we get the new oven, I won’t know if it’s on or not because….” and my mom said “Goodnight Ken, hold the railing and go upstairs”

This video is the end of that conversation, my mom’s voice is coming from the living room.

I am about to update the quotes section, so go check that out, too, before you leave.

Oh and I went Rock Hunting again this past weekend in the Out Of Doors and was significantly less successful than the first time and also the next day my calves would not work.  It hurt tremendously.  That did not happen the first time.

Sometimes I accidentally see news and I hate that because I spend weeks dwelling on whatever I saw and right now I am dwelling on an elephant who was treated horribly and then he was rescued and he cried and it made me cry because I am happy he was rescued but there are so many animals who are in horrible situations and they are sad and scared and it makes my heart hurt and it makes me panic and I cannot save all the animals and I need to because it is all I think about and it is really just horrible and I cannot stand it that I cannot save all the animals.  And even worse, I hate the people who treat animals badly.  I am a nonviolent person but the things I would do to people who mistreat animals in any way – I would be able to.  I could summon up that violence and make them suffer.  FIFTY YEARS this poor elephant was tortured.  Here is the link.  I mean, I suppose it is a happy story because he is rescued and being treated fantastically, but all I can dwell on is all the sad animals in the world.

 

The Attempted Assassination Of Darcy J.

Someone tried to kill me once.  Ok, they did not actively try to kill me, but they were going to allow me to die, and here is that story.

Once upon a time there was a shift leader at Half Price Books named Katie.  She was a big, evil, mean, manipulative jerk, only we did not realize the extent to which she controlled and tortured the staff until long after she left and people came out of their PTSD/Stockholm Syndrome clouds and told us.  She was really mean.

I am Diabetic and everyone knows this.  It is not something I hide, especially because I often whip out my glucometer and test my blood sugar right in front of people, or my insulin pump beeps, or more likely, people are asking me “Should you be eating that?” because I am scarfing down candy.  Everyone at Half Price Books knew I am Diabetic.

I went on my break one day and what I remember is shutting the door and muting the store phone because I had to make a personal call and did not want to be interrupted.  I remember “shooting up” (taking insulin) in preparation for eating.  Then I do not remember much else after that.  What I have been told is that I was on the couch in the office, with the door still shut and the phone still muted, asleep.  Katie and another shift leader, I am not sure which one, came in and said my name and poked me in the face with a pencil, and I did not respond.  So they left me there.

Diabetic or not, if someone did not respond, I would try more vigorously to wake them up, and then I would call 911 if they still did not respond.  Normal people in normal medical conditions wake up.

Katie chose not to do that, so I laid there while my blood sugar went lower.  When I was lucid enough to check it, it was 12.  Normal is 70-110.  Most people require medical attention at 30, and most people are unconscious at 20 or below.  I have never passed out before, and only needed help once in college when my blood sugar went so low I did not know what I was doing and my friend Mary gave me chocolate milk and soup because she recognized that I was not right.

I assume I was passed out.  Because I did not fall over, or at least, I do not remember falling over, I do not know if that counts as passing out.  I seem to have either sat or laid down on the couch and then just flopped over or something.

Thankfully my friend and fellow employee Sasha Griffin was smarter than any other employee working that day (who was aware of the fact that I was not waking up) realized this was not right and called my cell phone, which was under my head.  I do not know for sure, but I think Katie either shut the door to the office so Sasha could not get in, or told people to leave me there, because Sasha did not come in on her own.  I guess I answered my phone enough to realize I needed to open the door, but I do not remember that part.  I do remember Sasha handing me a Coke and I possibly remember that her sister and fellow employee Kira MIGHT have been there, but I do not know if that is true or not.  I also remember being soaked head to toe in sweat.

So Sasha brought me Coke and quite literally saved my life.  I do not think that I would have woken up on my own, because it is not like I had just fallen asleep, I was unconscious.  I do not remember the rest of that day because having your blood sugar go that low really messes with your brain and stuff, and so the rest of the day is a big blank spot.

I know that Katie told other people I was not waking up and that I was locked in the office because of what people told me afterwards.  I know that she poked me in the face with a pencil because she told the manager she did that.  What I can’t figure out and either no one will tell me or no one wants to admit that they were assholes, is why Sasha is the only one who was willing to not let me die.  Maybe these people were too stupid to realize that a person who isn’t waking up isn’t normal?  Maybe this happens often in their house?  I don’t know.  I also don’t know how long it would have taken me to actually die, but I know that a blood sugar level of 12 is ridiculously low and I probably should have been in the hospital at some point.

I have been really bitter about this since it happened, but at the time, it was made even more complicated by the fact that I got fired for being late coming back from break.  I had been late to work twice in the year previous to this event, and the third time is the time you get fired.  I wrote a note in my stupor, and I don’t know what it said and no one ever showed it to me afterwards, but my manager said that it said something like “I took insulin and didn’t eat and my blood sugar was low so I understand if you have to fire me”.  The firing came from a long discussion that resulted in “She took insulin and voluntarily didn’t eat so it’s her fault”.  Needless to say, I called the corporate office and was “unfired” within two hours.  I was told I did not make it clear it was a medical emergency.  I could understand that, depending on what I wrote.  If I said I took insulin and didn’t eat, most people who worked with me knew that meant I would have been impaired in some way, but I can’t expect someone to know that me being unconscious was a result of low blood sugar….except that actually, yes I can, and that’s a big part of the reason I am still bitter about it.  I WAS UNCONSCIOUS.  Someone should have called 911.  They LITERALLY left me back there to die.  And *I* am the one who got fired?!

One of the “post drama” rumors was that Katie actually told people to leave me back there because she wanted to make me look bad, and if that is the case, Sasha is even more of a super hero for defying orders.  But even if that isn’t the case, there were probably 8-10 people there that day who chose not to call an ambulance when a coworker was in a very clear medical emergency.  WTF?!  Who does that?!

I feel like I should be allowed to sue someone for attempted murder.  At the time, partly because of the after effects of such low blood sugar and partly because of the shock of actually being fired for that – I never really asked anyone, Katie in particular, why they were ok with me dying back there.  What if Sasha didn’t realize I didn’t come back after break, or didn’t hear Katie laughing about how I wasn’t waking up?  What if no one came back there for an hour and I was actually dead?  I probably still would have been fired.

I am happy to say that would not happen where I currently work.  If they saw me unconscious, they are smart enough to know that isn’t normal, and they are nice enough to not intentionally leave me unconscious because they want to make me look bad.

Here is a picture of Harry Connick Jr. from when I saw him in concert last night.  We waited in the sleet and hail by his tour bus and he came out and very quickly signed autographs.  My friend Sabrina the Human took this picture.  I handed him my “myfoodisproblematic” business card with a picture of my cat on it and I said “Hi Harry Connick Jr. this is a picture of my cat and it has my website on it and there are videos of dogs eating peanut butter” and he said “That’s awesome, I love that!  Thank you!” so now maybe Harry Connick Jr. will watch the videos of dogs eating peanut butter.

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