Friday, March 19, 2010
So I went to dinner with dear Momma at Bob Evans. I had a meal that I've vetted and had in the past. It's within my carb-restricted diet guidelines. I ate 95% of the meal, and then I dropped Momma off at home. Momma thought I was acting weird, but I insisted that nothing was wrong. I didn't think that anything was... That maybe should have been my first sign. I told Momma I was going home, but I had to stop at Giant Eagle to grab a few things on the way. I got about three aisles through the store, and I felt VERY out of sorts. It felt like my whole body was flying apart again. I felt like I needed to go to the bathroom, my mouth felt like a metal can inside, my heart was beating out of my chest, and I couldn't get my brain to get my feet to move. I was shaking. I checked my sugar. THANK GOD I had my whole purse in the buggy. It was 44. I pushed the buggy to a point in the store while hitting dial and waited as I shuffled until I saw that it finally connected... This store is cell hell... It's a complete dead zone. Momma answered when it finally rang through. She said she and Ken were coming after me. I thought about just sitting down on the floor in the middle of the store. I didn't think I had enough strength to go any further, but I told her I was going to go to the checkout. I think the checkout girl thought I was a complete crackpot. I couldn't perform the simplest task with ease. I was awkward handing over my Giant Eagle card and trying to use the debit machine to pay. Finally, I was on my way out and headed to the car. Momma called again to say they were almost there and see how I was doing. I told her I was going to crawl into the car. Momma and Ken arrived just moments after I got myself inside. They both checked me over and insisted that I was cold and clammy to touch. We already know the hospital is just going to pump me full of sugar so we took care of that ourselves. Approximately 40 minutes later, my head was throbbing, but my sugar was 120. I had (TOTALLY VIOLATING THE DOCTOR'S ORDERS) allowed myself 12 oz. of my favorite Tropicana Homestyle OJ. I am going to monitor it over the next few hours and go to bed... Feeling like crud, but glad to be ALIVE and not in a coma!
THANKS TO MOMMA AND KEN!!!