July 11, 2016 by scratchtype1
That’s where they built the bridge to Hades and then the ferryman became unemployed, no longer needed to make the crossing. The mailbox is some 10 yards away from the crossing, as the mail lady has good sense not to go wandering so close.
Unlike me and feeling like I nearly bought a one-way ticket across it last night. This year, thanks to the way I’ve become employed again, first through a temp agency and then hired by the company that had used a temp agency to find someone for the position, I’m in an unfavorable financial pinch because of how screwed up the American system of healthcare and how it’s paid for is done. Obamacare has made some real improvements to the situation, but there are still a lot of bad aspects to things. The bad aspect I’m facing right now is because of my hire date and the insurance offered by my employers, I have to spend $3000 out of pocket before anything gets paid for. Over a year’s time, I can manage that. In 6 months time, no. So I’m in a situation where I’m having to stretch the good and modern insulins that I use, Lantus and Humalog, with their older and clumsier counterparts, NPH and R. Even so, I’m not sure if I’ll have money to pay for Humalog when my current supply runs out. The retail price of a box of Humalog pens is around $600. Fuck. If I only lived close to the Canadian border, I could drive across and buy insulin for way cheaper. It’s absolutely sick how much money the pharmaceutical companies are gouging out of the United States market. Especially when considering that for type 1 diabetics, being without insulin is not an option. I can’t live without insulin. If I stopped taking insulin, I would be dead within a week without medical intervention. And a miserable horrible death that would be.
Of course, insulin isn’t any simple thing to administer. Too much can drive the blood sugars down to dangerous levels. And I got whacked by that last night. I had underestimated how much tail remained from my R insulin dose for dinner and gave myself too large of a correction dose.
I woke up last night in a very disjointed and stuttering kind of way. At first I wasn’t sure if I was just dreaming or waking up. Any time I tried to lift myself up, I fell back to the bed. Over and over. For how long I don’t know. Finally when I sensed how my forearms were slick with sweat, I realized that I had been badly hypoglycemic while sleeping. And I started to think. Gotta get up, gotta get carbs, gotta get carbs. At some point, I finally stood up but fall back into the bed. And again I tried. How many times I don’t know. Where are carbs, I’m thinking. It was hard to think. Finally I remembered that there were carbs in the fridge. Must get to the fridge. In truth, I actually carbs close to the bed, but mind couldn’t remember that. There wasn’t enough sugar to stir those memory cells. Gotta get to the fridge. Finally I got up and start wobbling towards the open door of the bedroom. I wobbled a bit too badly on my way out and scraped some skin off the underside of my left forearm.
I turned on the hall light and saw the two cats watching me anxiously as I teetered my way through the room on the way to the kitchen. When I opened the fridge door, I stood there for maybe a minute before I was like, “Ahh, yes! M&Ms on the top shelf.” I tore the packet open and devoured them greedily.
Then I stumbled back to the bedroom where I finally remembered that I had Gatorade near the bed. I grabbed one and opened it and took a big swig. Then I went over to my desk and did a blood test. 52 mg/dL although by that point I was probably already seeing it rise from the candy and Gatorade, but also the fact that my liver had rallied to my defense and had begun squirting out glycogen reserves. I drank all the Gatorade. Then still ravenous, I went to the fridge again and ate another bag of M&Ms. Way too many carbs, but it was so primal I couldn’t help it. And though I dimly thought how I probably needed to take some insulin, I made the decision that I didn’t want to fuck that up and repeat anything. So I got back to the bed, stripped off the sheets that were soaked in sweat and changed my clothing, found 2 dry pillows, and after flipping over the mattress because it too had had sweat soak into it, I put new sheets on and then pulled a warm blanket over me. I was chilled after sweating so much on a cooler night. Then I closed my eyes and found my way back to sleep, helped along some by one of the cats who came to sleep beside me and purr. Thanks, guy, you’re a good cat.
The hypoglycemic episode whacked me pretty good and when I got up at 5:30, my blood sugar was near 400 mg/dL. I didn’t get my blood sugar back down under 200 until about 11 in the morning. So I knew after that roller coaster, I was going to have shitty running legs after work. So it was only 1.34 streak preserving miles on day 456.
I ran them barefoot and told myself to be grateful that I was able to run and feel the warm pavement under my feet. And that even when I ran down that hill to the creek with the bridge across it, I’ve gone across it and come back many many times. Not all crossings are so dire.