Jan

Two Near-Death Experiences in a Week Will Really Take it Out of You

by Secondhand Karl in 2HRadio, Body of Mine, Depression, Diabetes, Local Goings On, Relationships, YOR.

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Trust me, I’m here to tell you. It will. Mix that in with a bedridden parent who needs caretaking for at least the foreseeable future, sleep deprivation, heartache, and you’ve got a great recipe for stress and depression.

For the first time in a long time, I actually saw light at the end of the tunnel. I was finding myself in the strangest position: contentedness. No worries, folks. That shit is gone. Karl is back to Normal.

So Saturday night, while Britt was partying down with many friends to celebrate her birthday (so wish I could have gone), I was busy being a fucktard and nearly killed myself. AGAIN. That’s twice in one week, for those that are counting. Both times from diabetes, or rather, my incredibly poor handling of mine.

I was on the phone with a friend – and here’s the fucktard part – while at the same time giving myself an insulin injection. BIG MISTAKE. I was distracted. And I gave myself the long-acting insulin dose instead of the REGULAR insulin dose.

Most of you probably don’t know what the hell that means. I’ll put it simply. I gave myself 26 units of regular insulin, when I was supposed to give myself 8. That’s bad. VERY bad. I think 26 units is enough for a diabetic elephant.

I knew it before I even took my finger off the syringe plunger. “Oh fuck!” I told my friend. “I have to go. I just gave myself too much insulin.” And I hung up.

Since I had come so close to death mere days before, I knew enough to go TELL SOMEONE. As in, my mom. The bedridden nurse.

“It’s OK,” she said. “Go eat something. NOW.”

And I did. But I also had the sense to call my best bud, who thankfully only lives a few blocks away. She came over to watch me eat three fucking bowls of manicotti. And two big glasses of orange juice (with added teaspoons of sugar). And half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

All this while, I’m testing my blood sugar every 30 minutes. Normal blood sugar ranges from 80-120. At the start, mine was 245…thus, the reason for me taking insulin. Half an hour later, it was 171. Then it was 117. OhmyGodI’msofuckingfullIcan’teatanotherbite!

Then it was 71. NOT GOOD. I’m chewing glucose tablets, drinking more orange juice. That’s when Mom said, “It’s time to go to the Emergency Room.” Called another friend to come babysit Mom, and off I went to the hospital.

My bud drove down Highway 27 like she was Riggs in a car chase from “Lethal Weapon.” Riggs, by the way, is the saner of the two between him and real-life counterpart Mel Gibson, but I digress. All this while, I’m tearing up…yes, actually starting to CRY (and no, there wasn’t a Blue Moon that night). The stress, every shitty thing compounding together from the week, and I was starting to crack.

Got into the ER, my bud tells the Triage lady that I took too much insulin and I’m crashing, and the Triage lady says, “Someone will be right out.”

Apparently, “right out” translates to 20 minutes in hospital lingo. Mental Note: next time lie on the floor and start slobbering and shaking.

Finally, they walk me back – I’m fortunately not feeling “low,” with the traditional dizziness, sweats, and shaking. They put me in a bed, hook me up to monitors, draw blood. Check my sugar, it’s 96. Better. After sitting there for 45 minutes, waiting on the blood test results, they finally let me go after seeing my sugar was 116.

10:30pm I’m back home, all is ok. Physically. Our mom-sitting friends go home, I sit outside on the veranda with my bud, smoking and talking. She goes home.

And I’m once again left to my own devices. I survived again. Twice in one week, I brushed with death due to my own carelessness. I didn’t die.

I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to still be here.

Whatfuckingever.

NOTE: SecondHand Radio is on hiatus from now until further notice. Can’t do it. Don’t want to do it.

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Tagged with Tags: bad news, Bec, being vulnerable sucks, big mistake, birthday, blood sugar, britt, broken kneecap, death, Depression, Diabetes, emergency room, Freaking, friends, fucktard, hd, heart, heartache, heartbreak, hell, hiatus, hospital, insulin, insulin dose, insulin injection, Karl, light at the end of the tunnel, mom, NIN, nurse, partying, radio, Rob, SecondHand Radio, secondhandkarl, sleep deprivation, stress, syringe, test results, tunnel

Two Near-Death Experiences in a Week Will Really Take it Out of You

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