I have low blood sugar: hypoglycemia. I found out after having some strange episodes when I was a senior in high school. One time, I got so dizzy and disoriented that I couldn't speak. I couldn't recall facts that I know, like my parents' names or my telephone number. I knew them, but they wouldn't rise to the surface. It was almost like a walking coma.
If I eat right, the problem is non-existent. Seems like that should be a no-brainer then. No sugar for the rest of my life. No problem. No alcohol. No bread. No pasta. No way. So for me, however wrong it may be, the name of the game is balance. And by balance, I don't really mean moderation. I mean counteraction. I try not to tip the scales. If I'm going to drink alcohol, I make sure to eat a substantial meal with plenty of protein. If I feel a little funny, I go eat some peanut butter crackers or something. I try to listen to subtle cues my body gives me. I usually have about 15 minutes' warning, starting with irritability. This one is hard to pick up on because what ever stimulus may actually be really irritating. Or is it? Then there is mild confusion or disorientation. Nausea. Still not worse than having NO sugar, etc for the rest of my life. I realize that this is a serious condition and that I should be more serious about abstaining from these sugary pleasures of mine.
I should keep more handy in mind the time that my body convinced me of that seriousness:
It was while I was in college. I was waiting for my boyfriend, Rodney, to get off work so we could eat together. I was starving. Just a little longer, I thought. He finally got off, and we were headed for food when he decided to take a detour. "Let's go by Hastings real quick first," he said. There was some CD he really wanted that was released today.
"I'm so hungry. I think I might have an attack," I whined. Maybe he thought I was just being dramatic. This was one of those things I said a lot.
"It will just take a second. I swear."
We went inside Hastings and looked around for a minute, and I started feeling a warm sensation in my face. So I went to the bathroom and could barely open the door. It's always heavy, but I almost couldn't open it this time. I walked to the sink and turned the knob. My hand felt tingly and a strange heat wave shot up my arm. I was starting to freak out. I splashed the water on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked very pale. I was getting dizzy. Blackness started to creep into the corners of my vision. My heart started beating faster. I went out to find Rodney in somewhat of a panic.
"We have to leave now," I told him, and he could see that I meant it.
We quickly walked outside to the parking lot. He had his arm around me, trying to support me as we walked. I remember him saying, "We're almost there. We're going to make it."
But we didn't.
The next thing I knew I was waking up from a little nap that I had apparently decided to take on a bench just outside of Hastings. Before I could open my eyes, I heard far off voices as if I were dreaming:
"Is she ok?"
"I don't know..."
"Somebody call an ambulance..."
I woke up to see a young black man sitting by my side.
"Where's Rodney?"
"You mean that white boy?"
"Yes."
"He went inside."
???
He...left me out here? With all these people? There were people standing all around, starting to disperse now that the show was over. I turned to look inside the window to see if I could see him and all of a sudden, another man approached me. He was an older white man and he was smiling. Why is he smiling at me right now? I think he was trying to say something to me... What is he saying??? Maybe I am still too foggy to understand. No, I was almost certain that he was speaking jibberish on purpose. He started getting closer and reached out to touch my arm. This man is trying to kidnap me. He's trying to confuse me even more, so he can snatch me and throw me into some creepy van.
"Sir, get away from me. You are scaring me," I said plainly.
He began explaining that he was a minister of a church, even started to present some sort of paper as evidence of the fact. This is when Rodney finally came out with beef jerky.
I felt safe again when I saw him and a little guilty for suspecting evil in a man of God while he was praying for me.
I do still wonder what good beef jerky would have done if I was unconscious. I guess he panicked and didn't know what to do. For the rest of the night, he kept staring at me like I was the walking dead.
He explained that when I fainted, he had called out for help. And the man who had been sitting at my side, guarding me while I was unconscious, had helped him carry me from the parking lot to the bench.
I wish I had said thank you.
After this event, I swore I would never eat sugar or wait too long to eat again. I got a medical bracelet and carried sugar pills in case I ever passed out among strangers again. I was on top of it for the longest time....
I thought that night would be enough to set me straight for the rest of my life.
