Equal Opportunity

By the time I have a shave and a shower in the morning, barge dripping wet from the bathroom and dry off with two towels in the bedroom, sit on the edge of the bed and blow-dry my hair, I'm exhausted. I’m almost too tired to get dressed. But I do. Then I’m almost too tired from that to stand in front of my dresser and count out the morning’s pills.

When I get to the breakfast table, I set the pills aside and dig for another pill or two and take them. Standing at the kitchen counter and making myself oatmeal or a bowl of Cheerios seldom makes me cheery, just tired again. By the time I carry it to the table and get some artificial sweetener into it, I’m almost too tired to begin eating. But I do. If it was oatmeal, it slowly cools. If it was cereal, it gradually softens. Whichever, I eat little spoonfuls until all the good taste is gone, then I continue eating until the rest of the tasteless bites are gone. Why is eating never fun any more?

When the bowl is empty, I remember which pill I forgot and get that. Then, one by one, I take the 4 or 5 other pills that I start the morning with and consider that I still have 3 or 4 to take later in the day. I hate keeping track of stuff like that, but now I have to.

Meanwhile, I still have to stab myself 1-5 times in the finger to get a drop of blood sufficient to test with the glucose meter. It would be fairly simple if the first stab produced a fat droplet or if an expensive test strip didn’t get wasted, but that’s not always how it works out. I’ve taken to bathing my hands in warm water just before taking the blood sugar reading and also to taking an aspirin every day to assure better bleeding! Sometimes it all works and I only have to stab myself with the needle once. Praise God. Or, if it doesn’t work, I curse God. I’m an equal opportunity True Believer.

---