Ever have that experience where you dread doing something, shrug it aside, and then watch dreadfully as it happens anyhow? That horror flick scene where a young college girl tiptoes toward the closed door, reaching out and calling "Is anyone there?" as the audience obviously knows the killer is waiting for her behind that door...
Well, that's how Wednesday morning played out for me. I should've seen it coming.
Backstory: Tuesday was a dental adventure day for both Suzi and I. A cemented crown had escaped from its spot in my mouth I like it to call home, so I had gotten in to the dentist to have that put back in place. A torturous gum-poking followed before I was able to free myself. Meanwhile, Suzi had a few crowns put onto teeth that weren't adequately cared for under our previous dentist's reign. Needless to say, we both weren't up for chomping on steaks or burgers or much solid food for that matter.
As a result, my dinner consisted of a few saltine crackers. Thanks to a pump site mishap and disconnect for most of the day, my sugar skyrocketed to levels we don't discuss - that directly led to a lack of appetite, for which I decided not to eat the great waffles my wife had made anyhow. So, they went into a baggie in the fridge.
The sugar fell as the evening progressed, and some intense house cleaning offered a tad more exercise than I'm typically used to in the later evening hours. Some late-night units balanced the sugar out, but it led me to wonder about something as I climbed into bed and snuggled in for the soon-to-be-slumber: "You know, I hope my blood sugar doesn't plummet tonight because there's no protein in my system. Oh well, I'll wake up and scarf a couple glucose tabs if I feel myself getting low and it'll be OK."
Uh-huh. Right.... (Enter head-shaking laugh here.) After 25 years of living with the D, I should know better, but once again the slumber-craved portion of my mind took over.
Fast forward to Wednesday, before 6 a.m. - the envisioned plummeting blood sugar came true, along with an added bonus: a face-slapping reaction. Snuck right up on me, even though I'd seen it coming.
The memory is foggy, but some highlights I recall:
- The dog was nearby, but this time she wasn't trying to eat my head (as has happened before). She tried to jump on the bed to help out, but to no avail.
- Suzi was there like a trooper, and this time managed to not summon the paramedics to our house (as has happened before).
- Alien Apple cider, being kept in a radioactive container: As Wednesday is the day our trusted trash and recycling trucks come by, I'd decided to do-away with the plastic gallon jug that had once contained apple cider. With only a little left, I transfered the contents to a little plastic container and disposed of the jug with our recycling. At the time, I didn't realize my actions would induce a train of thought that the container was some sort of weird alien contraption keeping in the radioactive poison that was now being forced down my throat...)
- When the apple cider forcing didn't work as well as planned, the aliens decided to use a probing device to force a thicker version of the poison into me. It appeared to be honey, but I knew better. No trickery was going to happen on this guy... As it turns out, it was a straw. And honey. And Suzi isn't possessed or abducted.
- Sugars were in there 30s. Some probing-picking device kept stabbing my fingers, and the aliens appeared to be winning. One suggested "36" and seemed happy about it, then another came at me for another finger-prick - this convinced me that not only were they lowering my sugar and taking pleasure in it, but there was more than 1 alien and they all looked like Suzi.
- While fighting the alien (disguised as my lovely wife, Suzi), that hovered over me, I slugged her. In the shoulder. I recall dreaming that my punch straight to the mouth would save my dear wife, and catapult across the room and out the window the little green alien creature lurking underneath the costume. That didn't happen, fortunately for many reasons, among them being the newly-placed crowns she'd had done within the past 20 hours. She later thanked me for this not happening, though promised to punch back had it happened. (Diabetic Domestic Violence Support Groupers, we look forward to your membership brochure!)
- Being fully confident in the disillusions noted above, I refused to consume anything unsafe. Somehow, I recognized glucose tablets as being "safe." I was willing to eat those. They tasted like candy. Mmmm...
- The cider also tasted better. But not the honey.
Soon, the fog lifted. The cider became cider, the honey-in-a-straw became just that, and my wife was indeed my wife, not an alien in a costume. Actually, there may not have been any aliens at all. I glanced at the clock, it was after 6 a.m. Realization set in. I was cold. And tired. Embarrassed about what had happened, as always. But thankful the paramedics were saved a trip to the Hoskins Household (again). There was a conversation about something, but I don't recall what it was.
The dog was sitting near the bed, watching me with those brown eyes and restraining herself from jumping on the bed. Her tail was wagging, of course.
Next thing I knew, Suzi was off to work. I was still scrunched up in a fetal position under the covers - the dog was keeping my feet warm, though sensing the earlier tension and wanting to play and comfort her daddy. Got off to a late start and headed into work. Only realizing after a couple hours that my pump was still suspended and that's what the double-vibration beat at my beltline was signalling. So now, the sugar is higher than it should be - again. And I am navigating that path of a day's suffering thanks to an early-morning low. All appears normal by mid-afternoon.
Fortunately, we have chicken stir fry on tap for this evening. So at least my belly will be full, and there won't be a sequel to the Cider & Honey Poisoning Aliens episode from this morning. This time, I won't open that door and will instead take a tommy-machine gun to stop what's obviously on the other side.
Many lessons can be found in this and any other D-experience, but the priority lesson learned from this one is a lesson reiterated: Eat dinner. And the aliens aren't out to get us, even if they are trying to possess our spouses and poison our honey and apple cider.