Christmas Day

Christmas Day was a wonderful testimony to the nurse's conviction that I am border line diabetic. . . and that border line may be getting more and more thin.

At 6a.m., I began a series of very . . . disturbing trips to the bathroom. I'm sure they were related primarily to poor eating habits. But since my stomach was upset, I didn't want to aggrivate matters by eating further.

That's from the same guy who knows if he doesn't eat SOMETHING for breakfast (usually a turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread as I drive to work), that I feel "funny" by 9:30a.m. So at 11a.m. when I became incredibly weak and light heated, I walked to my parents spare room and practically passed out.

During the next 24 hours plus of extreme fatigue and constant sleeping, I determined such plausible reasons as second hand exposure to meth (don't ask, there's no where in my world where I could have come into contact with meth) and hepatitis (no, never turned yellow the least bit). There was also the possibility that I simply caught a 24 hour bug. Only in hindsight did I think it may be related to diabetes and my failure to eat anything at all, when I know good and well that 9:30a.m. is about as long as I can go.

Oh well.