First battle....

Moments after logging off, I was starving.
Maybe blogging will spur hunger spikes…how ironic.

I have always had issues with being shaky. “Hypoglycemia,” my doctor told me during a visit back in 2002, “is not something you want on your health records. It looks bad to the insurance company.” Right then, after being diagnosed, I was taught that my health problems can be overlooked, hidden, pushed aside like the steamed veggies next to your filet minion. How easy that was. How easy I pretend it is now to rush to the nearest box of sugary goodness to quickly raise my levels before I feel close to faint.

I might be doing this right, today.

Back to 10am today. I was so weak, like so many times a day that it happens. I commonly blame it on waiting too long to eat. Of course, that’s it. I should have eaten sooner. Well, I am going to go out on a limb, a very lonely limb, and say….that is a lie. Those feelings are caused by a poor, incomplete diet. My body cannot keep itself running on what I feed it. It shakes. It wants to keep moving, but the gears are dry…the oil is gone. I’m running on ‘E.’

Don’t touch those crackers. Don’t grab the microwave burrito. Stop. THINK.
It was very difficult to find anything COLORFUL anywhere in my kitchen. Brown, tan, white….

I found something: A can of diet soup, broccoli and potato. Broccoli is GREEN!

I snatched it up. Poured it into a pan and placed it on my stove, clicked on the fire and stared down at it. It was so white. The green was much less than I had hoped. I wanted to fix this. I went back to the cupboard. Peas…peas would help, right?

In they went, right into the soup.

I felt faint… Must eat now.

I plopped a multigrain pita into the toaster…pop…..oh it was so warm and toasty. I gave it a little dose of peanut butter and honey…honey is YELLOW. I ate the first half while stirring the soup. It was GOOD.

The soup was wonderful and warm. I was shaking so bad by the time it was ready, I had to concentrate on slow breathing and relaxation to keep myself from gulping it down like an animal. Ice water cooled the senses. I finished my bowl while watching Allie (our 10 month old) sleep in her little play pen. The sounds of my spoon clinking in my bowl were starting to rouse her.


I had done it. I had fought my first battle. I had won.


And the day is only half over.