In one of my high school English classes, we had to read Samuel Beckett's play of this name. Thirty-some-odd years later, I don't remember the details, only that it centered around two men who seemed to be relatively old, penniless, and alone. They met at a particular spot each day, left each evening, and could only remember one day past and think towards one day forward. They awaited a third character, the eponymously named "Godot", who never arrived. The style was considered existentialist in that there wasn't all that much character development: what you saw was what you got. While I never read the French original, in English, "Godot" seemed a thinly-veiled metaphor for "G-d" — and since old, penniless (and possibly homeless) folk have always had the shortest from-this-point life expectancy, it made sense — at least on one level — that these two characters were waiting to die.

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Every morning, I weigh myself, check my blood pressure, and test my blood glucose. The latter two measurements are checked on various occasions throughout the day -- moreso the glucose than the pressure, even though my only prescription medications are for my blood pressure rather than my blood glucose. There is a range for each that I consider "safe". When the ambient temperature drops, Raynaud's kicks in, and with it, the risk of hypothermia. Unfortunately, three of those parameters -- blood pressure, blood glucose, and body temperature --
have a common symptom when they drop below the safety zone. That symptom is shakiness.

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Last week, a rabbi I follow on Twitter mentioned that she was beginning to work on her sermons for the Jewish High Holy Days. A bit off-the-cuff, I threw out the topic of "G-d forgiveness, versus self-forgiveness, versus forgiving one's fellow man". While the first of these sits squarely within the framework of religion, the other two often sit at the same table as the many theories of diabetes management. Especially where caregivers, and type 2 diabetes, are concerned.

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It's soft like velvet, it's sweet and buttery and melty, it's just a touch crisp on the outside, and salty. And after dipping a Wetzel's Pretzel into cream cheese I feel as if I've died and gone to heaven.

OK, not really, but Wetzel's Pretzels are one of those foods that I hate to love. I crave bread and have since forever. I also crave textures. Yes, really. There are times when I want something smooth like yogurt, or something thin like water, or something heavy like ice cream. So yeah, I crave textures.

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Sometimes all it takes is a swift kick in the ass.

Late last week I emailed several of my friends who also have diabetes with this problem: I'm spking high and low after nearly every meal. I can't seem to even have a NutriGrain anymore without issues.

They all agreed that my situation sucked. Maybe increase your basals, they suggested. Maybe it's time to switch insulins, they said. Have you stopped exercising, they wondered. Are you, you know, eating right, they questioned.

While my eating habits are not the greatest, I assured them, these crazy spikes were happening even when I was eating by the book. These blood sugar spikes were insane: the line on Dex looked like a capital W. 

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There are some days when a person ought to just stay in bed. 

Under the covers.

Cuddled with the cat.

Warm and safe and happy and comfortable.

There are some days when staying in bed is the best possible option.  Of course, those days are often realized in hindsight.  When the proverbial ball is already rolling in the absolute wrong direction.

Today has been, without a doubt, one of those days.

I got up this morning feeling alright.  Fairly well-rested, actually, and not fighting - as I'm wont to do - the inevitable reality that another day has dawned and it can't be spent in the paradise of slumber.

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