After Tuesday’s incident at Kroger, I did contact my Dr. to get advice. First bit of advice: if it happens again, call 911 and at least get checked by an EMT to see if I need to go to the E.R., or just take myself to the E.R. for evaluation. With luck and good management, I won’t have to go through that again. He thinks my incident at Kroger was more due to bowel problems than blood sugar. I don’t know; maybe could have been. First the abdominal pain, then the fainty, hurty, sweaty stuff.

The other bit of advice he offered: “…  it might be good to not go to the store alone.”

Well, fuck! I mean, I understand what he’s saying, and he’s right — I don’t want to be in a situation I can’t take care of myself. But I am hoping this advice is for the short-term, until I get my bowels and body back on track.

Most of my life I have been a walker. I didn’t get a driver’s license until I was 22 or 23, never did like driving, and I haven’t had a car since 1989 when my Nissan Sentra died and I couldn’t afford to get it fixed. I learned to depend on the bus in New Orleans, since it took me any place I needed to be and was convenient. It was only a block or two to the nearest bus stop, and I could walk locally for groceries and other shopping, and a taxi was readily called when needed.

Now, though, I’m a 40-minute walk from the nearest bus line here in Houston, which creates an entirely different scenario. I’ve made the habit of going to Kroger 2-3 times a week. It kept me active, and by carrying just a bag or two, I had an excuse to shop lightly and frequently to ensure I got my “fresh air, sunshine, and exercise” routine. With increasing difficulty, I’ve begun using my shopping cart for even just a bag or two. And this week, I took advantage of Leanne’s offer of a ride and double-stocked on a lot of my regular staples, so I don’t have to go for a while.

So, here I sit having to face the fact that (for now) my body just isn’t able to do what it used to do so readily. And it pisses me off. I do not want to have to call someone to carry me to market and shuffle along by my side in case I faint or just need to stop and rest. I do not want to be needing someone or depending on someone for my routine life activities.

I am keeping a log of my blood glucose — today was lower than yesterday — as well as all the food and stuff I eat through the day. And I’m taking the meds that were prescribed for me. Since I can’t do my semi-regular walking I will have to start looking up dance music on YouTube and dance at home. Or at least move about, if not proper dancing. 🙂

I am not the first person, or even the only person to have to deal with this shit. And, as far as I know, this isn’t some weird terminal thing. But it is still fucking up my life and I have a right to be pissed off. And while it would be nice to have someone here to go through this with me and maybe understand my frustrations, it’s probably good nobody has to put up with me as I get my life readjusted. And lord knows I am not ready or willing or able to actually share my life and my space with someone. So, I pound out my thoughts on the keyboard. 🙂

The ibuprofen seems to be working. Maybe I can get to sleep in a while. I have a load of yarn that must be dyed tomorrow later today. Like it or not I have to keep making money, whether I feel up to it or not. I can do it slowly and in smaller batches and still get it done.