Placid

Today, I had my follow up appointment regarding my diabetes. It's pouring rain in my soul. I walked from the hospital to the BART station in a slow motion haze. After spending an hour and fifteen minutes with the doctor going over my understanding of meal management and how to use a syringe, my heart could not take it anymore. I succeeded in managing to keep my blood glucose down with food, yet it my body is not producing enough insulin in my sleep. Therefore, I am urged to introduce insulin into my body before I go to bed by way of injection in the stomach. Sob. Not only am I on a restricted diet and having to prick my finger four times a day, but I have succumbed to a syringe filled with a light dose of insulin.

I am morosely moved by this news as I have tried my best to control this condition. Unfortunately, this is beyond my control. Sniffle. Such is life. In the flames of my hormones, I have to mortar myself together. It is in my nature to hastily becme numb, but the dreary weather is inducing me to crumble to my knees on this filthy sidewalk on Valencia and sob feverishly. I need to feel this sadness. It's normal. On a Friday, no less, I should be jumping for joy, because the weekend is at my feet. Not today.

Shellie's Proverb: A wet log can not make a fire.

I paid a phone call to mom to bear the bad news. Mom's not great at receiving bad news, as she quickly wished me good health and love and quickly got off the phone. That was her way of dealing with it. As I can wish as the rain does fall that she was in closer proximity than Hawaii, these are the times that I could use her arms for comfort. It could be worse. It could be detrimental. Think about the children in Africa and AIDS. Think about the women who are unable to bear children? Think about the families that have lost loved ones? All I can do is feel sorry for myself. I never do. Today, I am giving myself the opportunity to go through that process. I don't need a consolation prize. I'm just caught in the line of the hormonal cross fire and licking my wounds. Whatever it is, it still pangs me. I'm not receiving any phone calls today. I'm turning off my ringer. Tomorrow is a new day and it will all be better. Tonight I have a hot date with my husband, we're catching an early dinner and a movie. Chin up. Shoulders back. Smile. Tomorrow's a brand new day.

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must learn to lose battles in order to win.