A Wish While Waiting.
I want to be happy right now.
This week has been nearly perfect – not completely perfect because, c’mon, how many weeks are completely perfect? – but it’s been pretty darn good so far.
First, it’s a four day week. That alone makes it a pretty good week, neverminding everything else that’s happened. We have also had two visitors from our other offices in town this week, including one of my team members who I hardly ever see because he lives in silly Chicago (not that I don’t like Chicago or anything…). Then on Wednesday, I worked in New York City and that alone is pretty cool but I also attended the Media Bistro book launch party for Robert Rummel-Hudson’s new book Schuyler’s Monster at a chic club on Third Avenue which was also attended by Kerri and a whole host of other cool people whom I met, which is like ten cool things all in one. Then today, we had an awesome brainstorm about something I can’t tell you about or they’ll have me killed and then a whole bunch of my co-workers went out to a bar and had drinks and appetizers and I didn’t have to pay, so there’s another ten good things.
So there’s a lot of really good things about this week.
But this entire week has been filled with terrible, awful food that I most certainly could have avoided eating but of course, didn’t. On Tuesday, I went out to dinner with aforementioned co-workers and thinking I had the entire week to be good, decided, “Sure I’ll have some fries with my sandwich! Why not?” Then on Wednesday, I thought I would either make it back home in time to make dinner or something else would come up, but the aforementioned Robert (also known as The Rob, or more casually, Rob) and his friend decided to stalk down a diner in NYC. Perfect! After nearly nine hours of no food, I was pretty much ready for anything. Oh, and don’t forget the cocktails at the bar. Then I thought, okay, tomorrow (which is today) will be better. For the most part, it was. I ate a nice healthy full-of-fiber cereal and a glass of fat free milk. But then I went low. So I had some juice. And then I went low again. So I had some Dr. Pepper. When we headed out to the bar, I arrived at 71 mg/dl. So I had some more juice. And then I had some cocktails. Not realizing that appetizers was dinner, I ate some appetizers. Not a lot, but certainly not something I really should have been eating to begin with.Then I thought, “Okay, I am definitely definitely going to the gym tonight.” I had managed to make it to the gym on Tuesday after dinner and did some cardio for 45 minutes, which I thought helped. Didn’t do a darn thing yesterday seeing as how I didn’t arrive home until a quarter to midnight. Tonight was going to be different. Paying my tab and excusing myself from the little shindig, I announced that I had to go the gym tonight and scurried off into the frigid night air. I tested my blood sugar before I got into the car and rang in at 161 mg/dl.
Perfect! I thought. I’m set!
I drove home and changed into my gym clothes, hopped into the car and dashed off to NYSC. As I got onto the elliptical machine to do a quick half hour of cardio, I started to feel a little funny. I trudged along for about five minutes when I thought, Yeah, this really isn’t working so well. I should test.
I got off and went over to the table to test. I could tell immediately when I started walking that I was slow. That slow, cumbersome, woozy walk.
50 mg/dl. And like a snap of the fingers, my nearly perfect week was over.
Of course, since I was in such a rush to go to the gym, I forgot to repack my purse with an extra juice box (I had used the one in my purse earlier at the bar to take care of the 71 mg/dl). So I go into my car and carefully made my way over to the Wendy’s two blocks down the road. I ordered a regular Coke and pulled over into a parking space to sip my soda and wait.
Let me tell you something about waiting. There are certain times in my life when time seems to slow down to a halt. Waiting for an elevator when you’re late, waiting for a plane to take off or land (especially at Newark!), waiting for the next bus or train when you miss yours. With diabetes, time seems to slow down when I’m waiting for my blood sugar to rise after a low. It’s like I’m in a bubble. I’m in a bubble where time takes its sweet, well, time. But everything around me is still moving at the same speed. Sometimes even faster. After a low is over, it’s like I have so much to catch up on. There is so much I could have done if my body hadn’t been deficient in its source of energy.
Then there is the whole “it’s my fault” factor. Whenever I’m low, especially in situations that are out of the ordinary, I always think, if I had just done things the way I normally do things, this wouldn’t have happened. If I had just had a diet coke and a sandwich at the bar, I would be fine. But instead, I had to pretend I was like everyone else and drink alcohol and eat fatty foods that taste incredible. I think, I had to screw up the system and now I’m paying the price.
As I sat in my car in the Wendy’s parking lot, I thought all of these things. I thought about how if I didn’t have diabetes, I would still be at the gym working off all the food I just ate. But instead, I was sitting in the car sipping on yet another high calorie does-nothing-for-me drink except for the fact it had the carbohydrates my body was so desperately seeking.
I felt fat and sad and alone and miserable.
I should be happy right now. But instead, I am wishing that someday the time spent waiting for my blood sugars to rise back to normal or to fall back to normal, or the time I spend counting carbohydrates or filling my reservoir with insulin, or the time I spend checking my blood sugar at the gym, or the time I spend away from work or my friends or my family because I have “go do something really quick”, or the waiting at the doctor’s office or the pharmacy, or simply the time spent waiting for a cure is over.
I want this time back. There is so much I could have done with this time.