The Universe is a Dirty Dog

Oh, I had an evening out on Friday, yes I did.  It was my first time out (other than necessary grocery shopping in months.  I went to see the fabulous Wynton Marsalis Jazz Band at our local Licoln Center   It was a Wynton Marsalis Jazz Band performance at our local Lincoln Center, which is a wonderful concert venue.  I went with my friend Lynn and we had great front seats on the mezzanine. There were people, and lots of them.  The venue was very responsible and required vaccine cards and photo IDs, plus mask wearing.  I had my KF94 with great coverage.  I was ready to take the leap.  

Just as the lights were dimming and the stage lights coming up and our host grabbed the microphone to welcome us all, my insulin pump alerted me to a plunging blood glucose level.  Christ on a bike.  I alerted Lynn and then crawled over the 4 people to my left in order to make my way to the bar for some juice.  I purchased two apple juice and made my way back to my seat just as the band was taking their positions on stage.  Climbing back over my row mates I wondered just how annoyed with me they might be.   I downed my juice after I turned off the insulin spigot and began to settle into the music.  Jaysus, of all times.  What are the odds?  I planned my meal and my insulin dose specifically to avoid this situation.  F*ck my life.  Okay, calm down.  Enjoy the music.  Thirty minutes later my lower intensives began to rumble, as they often do after a hypoglycemic incident.  My mind began to worry I was going to have a bathroom emergency now, as I often do have such an incident.  I don't know why, and no doctor has ever explained why this happens.  Fearing the worst, I waited until the song was over and, apologizing sincerely, crawled back over four people and made it to the ladies just in time.  So I took my time.  Let my body settle and work itself out.  Then when the song ended, I crawled back over four people and took my seat for the last song of the set.  I was mortified, but what was I to do? Next time, I'm choosing my seat to be on the isle if at all possible.

I explained to Lynn so she didn't think I was a freak, and she was very sympathetic.  During the intermission I ordered a whiskey and ginger ale and waited for the warmth of the whiskey to calm my nerves.  Worked like a champ.  I made it through the second set like a rock star.  My blood sugars were back up and I could concentrate on the great music.  And it was great.  It's not usually the kind of jazz I listen to at home because it's horn heavy and gets frenetic.  But watching the band playing together, taking their solos, having a great time, just admiring the talent and experience on stage -- wow.  First Class.

A milestone for me, getting to go out and enjoy a public event with a friend.  It was a joyful experience once I fixed the whole diabetic thing.  Coming through my front door, hanging up my coat and emptying my bag, my phone vibrated.  I opened it up to find a text message notifying me I had been exposed to someone who has tested positive for Covid 19.  A lot of 'blah blah blah' about getting tested in five days and if I hadn't been vaccinated to quarantine until a negative test result.  More than a year ago I signed up for a contact tracing program and this was the first notice I got.

What the hell?  Oh-ho, universe, you dirty dog!  I'm vaxed and boosted and I was wearing my mask, so I'm not overly worried, but I will go get a test on Wednesday.  

The evening, on the whole, was a thrill.  And I've learned my lesson, again, to always carry juice or sugar with me wherever I go, whenever I go, even if I think I'll be fine.  I had lost the habit, not being out much in the world for 2 years.  I should always carry insulin kit supplies and a bottle of the stuff just in case there's a malfunction, or one of the tabs come off my skin that is holding the needle in there.  The pump offers a freedom of sorts, and does do some automatic tasks which help maintain a healthy glucose level, but it also comes with a lot of responsibility to how it works and what to do and have it case you run into a problem.

I am going to another performance at the Lincoln. Center on February 26, and this time I will be well prepared.  Got my kit, my juice from home, my Depends, and a good sense of humor.  I mean, we can't remove people with disabilities from the arts, performances, restaurants and the like.  AND I would not want us to.  I am in that number.