My wife is convinced this Tri is going to kill me...
After my bouts with vertigo last week, I went in for a check up with my doctor on Thursday. I felt fine. Really good as a matter of fact. He gave me a clean bill of health, told me he might see me in Durango (he runs Triathlons as well), put me on a routine maintenance of Procrit and sent me on my way.
Fine and Dandy...
Right before lunch I was hit by an overwhelming amount of stupidity and bureaucracy at work. It pushed me up a bit. I calmed down, changed clothes, and went out for a run. I got about one block.
Bonk.
I felt suddenly weak. I was confused. I walked a few blocks and decided to turn around and head back to work. It took me a reeaalll llooonnnggg tiiiiimmmmee. I had to sit a few times. I finally got back, went upstairs and ate (salad with tuna). I didn't even change back into my work clothes.
I do not really remember too much after that...
I called home and told Linda I was coming home. The next thing I knew my boss had come by to see me and was checking on me (I think the world of my boss. She is great unlike many of the other losers that I have had as leaders). She told me that I was going home. That made me happy because I wanted to go home.
She told me that my wife, Linda, called her.
I told her that I had a wife named Linda. She was home.
My boss looked worried. (at the time) beat the hell out of me why. My wife's name has always been Linda!
Someone came and sat with me. They talked about IT policies and Catholic Nuns. There had to be a connection somewhere. This gal sounded like the adults on a Charlie Brown Christmas. Whaa Whaa whaa...
Someone told me my wife was there. Great. Her name is Linda. Can someone tell her I want to go home?
Uh, Dale, she is here to take you home.
Great. My wife is named Linda. Please call her and tell her I am going home.
No, Dale, she is here.
Who is here?
Your wife is here to take you home.
I have a wife. Her name is Linda. Please excuse me while I call her and tell her I am going home.
Worse than Abbott and Costello.
Got home. Did some other strange things. I do not actually remember most of this, just what others have told me. Two guys helped me down to the van where my wife (hey, that's my wife Linda. What are you doing here? Can I go home?) was waiting.
This has happened a few times in the past. Scares the hell out of everyone....but me. I am in Laa-Laa land.
Took some meclazine, zyrtec, and valium and SLEPT.
The next morning went back to the doctor (nurse practitioner. I really like her). She was baffled. Linda (my wife) get harping on how I was fatigued. I was tired but I did not feel fatigued. I was getting almost enough sleep. I needed a few more hours that week but I am not too far off.
A few discussions later and they decide to check my blood sugar. Now, I am really against this. I am going nuts NOT to be diabetic. The though of using a monitor pisses me off.
I lose. I get to use a monitor several times a day.
Turns out I am not diabetic.
I am hypoglycemic. My blood sugar registered at 58, way below normal. A formal blood test taken 30 minutes later (after they forced a REGULAR high-fructose laden COKE (I try to avoid regular soda like the plague!!!)) came in at 44.
44 means they admit you and inject glucose into your body.
Luckily for me we had already left the hospital and were heading for Santa Fe to pick up my bike from its tune up. Hell, my priorities are in order!
Actually, I did check in and my sugar levels were going back up and were 109 when I called in.
So, here is the deal.
- I must eat protein for breakfast
- I must test before I exercise
- If my blood sugar is below 90 I must snack
- If it is really below 90 I do not exercise (damn!)
- I must test after I exercise
- It my blood sugar is below 90 I must eat
- It is is really below 90 I chomp on some glucose pills
- I am allowed to do the Tri
Love and sweat,
and a regular coke (sigh....)
dale
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