.
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I made a fatted breakfast, as well cooked two thick pork chops. The problem? I was only able to eat half of what I made. And, what I made... wasn't going to modulate blood sugars up all that far. So? So I drank raw milk. You know, that stuff is the original coca~cola. It has it's purposes, of course. But, for adults? No. Not unprocessed. Fermented, in one form or another? Sure. But raw? No.
I had between three and four cups of the stuff. It was a hail mary, the last thing I had in me, on me, other than candies and tabs. Which I sorely avoid these days. I didn't feel bad, but I desperately distrusted going to bed with a 55 blood sugar. I feared that, boys and girls. Waking up, having to crawl around to find a light source, then glycose tabs, then water, while trembling, unable to see well, nearly paralyzed, sweating, heaving, is no way to go through life... Assuming I do wake.
If 55 wasn't triggering my warning response, what would? And, what condition would I be in. Could I wake? No, no, no, and no. I was absolutely not going to risk it. Still, as bad as milk is? I count it as real, since it is natural, grass fed, pastured (when seasonably optional, hay fed otherwise). This is as good as milk gets, not homogenized, not pasteurized, not batch combined into a glob of... pseudo milk, then processed to make it all the same... the good and the bad. Even so, that was a LOT of sugars. Plus the french fries earlier.
Taking blood sugar first thing, I was thinking, maybe, 200? I... was really afraid it might even be up to 300. More. Who knows. Still, gotta do it. Put on your big boy pants and take the beating. The meter set up, with the tab slid in, a quick prick, the blood to the tab. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Hurry and wait. Ah. What? My blood sugar is 98 fasting? Seriously? All that worry, and for nothing. Bleh.
*grinning like a kid in a deserted candy store*
No, no no no. No candy. How about a kid who got what he wanted, THEN escaped without trouble of fuss. Not going back. In spite of not getting caught, I learned my lesson. I don't want any more candy. I didn't even get a stomach ache. Then again, after all was said and done, I still probably didn't eat enough calories, even for my low calorie count, yesterday! Gah! I just ate it late, and more to try to tend blood sugar... which wasn't causing problems, if I believed was a threat to cause serious problems, or... worse.
Yes, death, at times, looks a lot easier. There are days when I feel bad enough. Or I realize how little I am doing, what a dump the place has become, and some other things. Even that I keep fumbling getting to church! I find the times, set up to go, get a shower early, and fall asleep, or completely miss the time, with alarms galore. Can't focus. I don't even get to go to the store when I want to. I go when I can. It is open, say... fifteen hours? And I still can miss for a week! Shame, horror, pain, all... make me think death would be better, wiser, certainly easier. And, yet... I... can't... quit. I can't just let it happen. It would be so easy. But, that... life, my life, the only one I can do anything about, is not just a job, it's a responsibility. One, literally, recently, frequently, often, handed to me by God. It's the last opportunity, if done properly, at real life.
I believe that with the fullness of my being. He didn't let me die until I could see, and He knew I saw. And, letting go, or throwing it away then, would be akin to the denying the Holy Ghost. The one damnation I have yet to... perform. The only one t here is no coming back from. I can't say it's the same for others. And, when I died, before, as a foolish child, I was... given some hope of mercy... but once. So... So I stay, and do my best, in my humble, painful, situation. And I advise others to do the same, to their ends. It isn't about the pain, or humility. It isn't about you. Hell, it isn't even your life, not even your body. Will you be taking your body with you, when you die? Given back isn't the same. If it hurts, pray. If it feels bad, pray. If they say you don't deserve to pray because you aren't going to church, pray for them. For they are wrong. If you can't go, you... can't go. Amen.