I’m doing well with my diabetes; sometimes so well I forget about it.

I’m good at taking my insulin, which I never forget, but I sometimes forget that what I eat and when I eat can be complicated for a person with diabetes, even dangerous. A nurse told me once that diabetes will take care of you if you don’t take care of diabetes. How true.

(Above, the white hen and the blue chair. She wants to eat my camera. Good for picture taking.)

I got a lesson in that today.  I was at the gym walking on my treadmill, listening to the Beatle’s Rubber Soul album, and trotting along when I felt nauseous, light-headed, and sweaty.

I also felt confused, trying to remember what time it was and what I had to do when I got home. I also realized I was about half an hour from home.

I thought I might be about to faint. This is the point where I’m supposed to ask for help, but this is also (apologies to Tucker Carlson) where I have too much testosterone in me; I always want to tough it out. And I didn’t want to end up in an ambulance.

The strange thing about low sugar attacks is that I never understand what’s happening until it’s nearly too late. I got out of the gym, called Maria, and said I was dizzy and confused. Perhaps I had Covid.

I could say something to Laura, who looked strangely at me but left quickly. I knew I needed to get home and lie down.

Take the glucose tablets said Maria; it sounds like a low sugar thing. Once she said it, I knew she was right. I have a bottle in the glove compartment. I took two.

(Sun on the mountain, just before noon)

I forget that I am eating less, exercising more, and I paid no attention today to the balance diabetics need to maintain to keep their blood under control –  protein, and the right carbs. I had a cup of oats for breakfast and a thin tuna wrap for lunch.

I ran around all day, writing, doing farm chores, and taking pictures. I’ve cut way down on portions, and avoid white carbs.

I forgot my glucose snack bars. I ate very little and moved around constantly. This was only the second or third low sugar episode I’ve ever had, but my whole diet, schedule, and activity have changed radically. I need to factor that in. There’s a lot to keep track of in my life, and being all too human, I stumble.

I was out of whack, and my body was letting me know. It didn’t feel good. I kept wondering about the possibilities – heart attack, stroke, diabetes. Since I just had a heart check a couple of weeks ago, I went with option C.

Maria helped me when I got home. She fed me some dark chocolate, the diabetic’s reward, and some peanut butter and sugar-free jelly on a piece of pita bread. Then I lay down and conked out for 45 minutes. I was okay when I woke up, and Maria headed off to belly dancing class.

I took Zinnia out for some ball throwing and Fate out to find the sheep that I couldn’t see or hear in the back pasture. We found them, and they are fine. I took a few pictures, some in this journal. I made a good dinner for myself: fresh large shrimp, wheat couscous, and vegetables.

Maria won’t be home for a while.

I love the afternoon light when it shines on the hay. Barns are like cathedrals to me. We are blessed, and we know it)

The brown/red hen hasn’t moved all day out of the roost; we’ve decided to let her die in peace. She isn’t struggling or moving much at all. If she isn’t gone by the time we leave on vacation Sunday, I’ll step in and let her go peacefully and quickly. She’s not going to recover.

We are both eager for Sunday when vacation begins. I need one, and so does Maria. Doesn’t everyone? Back on Wednesday next.

 

In the warm weather, the back porch becomes the heart of the farm, its images and symbols forever changing. We have a new Bud-like planter and the three-year-old blue birdbath, which the birds avoid because of the cats. The dogs like it, though, and we love the color and look. Fate jumped up on the porch and posed agreeably for me; she was worn out from running circles around the sheep.

 

 

I loved the way the clouds nestled on the mountaintop when the storm passed. The town down in front is Salem, N.Y. The picture speaks for itself. The cloud is a stratocumulus lenticularis (I don’t care for whoever named these clouds, they are all impossible to say quickly.  These particular clouds form in layers of clouds rising over hills.

 

After the rains come, the worms and the chickens patrol every inch of the grass, looking for them. They don’t need to be fed their meal anymore. They walk in perfect and efficient formation. The red/brown hen is no longer coming out of the roost.

Here is one sheep calling out for his mother; the image struck me. Off to bed. See you tomorrow.