Just One of Those Days

Yesterday was one of those days.

First, I overslept by 45 min, which meant no workout.

Then, rushing out of the house to get the boys to school on time, I popped an entire prescription drug pill when I was only supposed to take half. Figured it wouldn't hurt, right?

Wrong!

The pill, Metaformin, is prescribed to help diabetics control their blood sugar. I'm pre-diabetic, and trying desperately not to go there. My doctor has me taking a half pill twice a day.

Shortly after dropping the boys off, about 35 minutes after leaving home, I realized I needed to head north (my job is south) to pay a bill. As I progressed up the highway, I suddenly felt very nauseous. Like pull-over-the-car-before-I-barfed nauseous. Except I didn't pull over. I clamped my lips and took deep breaths, figuring I'd get something when I stopped.

My blood sugar was plunging. All I'd had to eat was one lightly cooked egg.

After taking care of the bill, I went to the gas station store next door, and looked for some crackers or a bagel. Felt like I need something bread-y. Nothing. The best I could come up with was a packaged cream cheese cake with the look and consistency of cornbread. Knew it would be too much sugar but at this point, I needed sugar to raise my blood sugar level.

Now heading south to work, I took a couple of bites, and quickly knew the cake wasn't the answer. Good thing I'd had the forethought to also purchase a yogurt-covered peanut-flavored protein bar. Normally, I enjoy these because the protein content is high and the sugar content fairly low. But the protein bar wasn't the answer either. The sweetness of the yogurt covering made me more sick. Ate only half of that.

I'm almost up to the bridge--12 miles across--and, with the two half-eaten goodies on the seat next to me, I feel as though I'm going to puke any second. I'm almost biting my lip now. I've got the windows rolled down to take in some fresh air, and I'm steering with one hand, while I tap my leg with the other.

Salt! I need salt!

As soon as I get into the office, thankfully distracted most of the way by a call from my childhood friend and sister-in-law, I head for the snack machine. I snatch the bag of salted pretzels out, rip it open, and begin munching as I make my way back down the halls to my desk.

I start to feel better.

Here's where things get silly. While I'm working, I finish off the half-eaten cream cheese cake and protein bar. Why? I don't know. Most likely because they were there.

And I start to feel nauseous again. I ask my body, "What do you want?"

It responds, "A Burger King hamburger." (BK because I love the flame-broiled taste.)

I totally understood. So toward the end of the lunch period, I head over to BK and get a whopper, ketchup, mustard and pickles only, and a BK strawberry-banana smoothie. Because while I waited in the drive-thru line, I convince myself that something milk-based would be just the ticket, and besides, it contained real fruit.

I haven't eaten a fast food meal like that in months!

But you know what? I felt so much better after I did.

Through all of this, I drank not one drop of water, which is probably why my stomach was hurting by the end of the day when I was ready to go home.

I decided to take it easy at dinner time, having clearly already exceeded whatever calorie count anyone might select for the day.

Today is a new day. Got up feeling fine, exercised, and had a slightly more filling breakfast. Passed on taking the pill, even half of one.

Didn't want to take any chances.

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia