Monday, September 21, 2009

Eating Reese's Pieces at 9:00 am

So, this weekend we learned a very interesting thing about Laura, something that might be a doctor's office worthy thing, an oh-no-she's-losing consciousness thing.

Jen, you and I have discussed the randomly passing out affliction we have both suffered in our lives, and how it does go away, and how it's totally inexplicable (unless you just say we need sugar, which kind of makes sense, but I don't pass out every time I need to eat something).

For both of us, it kind of went away, right?

On Saturday, after an evening of actual exercise (I took a long walk that involved my falling into a hole, a fact hardly noticable to the single onlooker). Exercise was painful. I don't like it. I woke up, took ibuprofen to handle the pain from the fall (I'm serious), and then put the heating pad on the joint that took the brunt of the shock (dead serious, this really hurt).

I poured myself a glass of milk for the painkiller. But that was as far as I got. I curled back up into bed and watched an episode of Gilmore Girls, because that was what was most likely to distract me from my hip and the fact that someone (me) thought it would be a good idea not to fall into oncoming traffic at night, therefore forcing it to take on responsibility for all my body weight. And it hurt (I'm still being serious).

I hate exercise.

But Mom and Paul wanted to go to Kokomo, and I thought it would be a good idea to go with them, so I tried to make myself presentable, and we left.

Paul was driving, but he didn't really know the way Mom was telling him to go, so we got a bit turned around. We made fun of him, recounting the famous incident during the year when he had his permit and was learning to drive. Paul was turning out of the bank or McDonald's or something with the intention of going toward downtown Wabash. Mom said to him, "Turn into the far lane." For most of us, this would mean getting in the left lane going in the direction we all intended to go. For Paul, this meant turning literally into the far lane, while still going in the direction previously decided upon. So, Paul turned and drove the wrong way, as if to hit the oncoming pickup truck head-on. It was a driver's ed game of Chicken, and I actually screamed. It was a great help.

As we made it to 24, our story had ended. However, Paul still pulled through the intersection to the middle part where you yield. Then he put on his turn signal. He was planning to go the wrong way again, this time on a four lane highway, with a hill right in front of us so we couldn't see the car about to slam into ours at 60 mph.

We stopped him. Still, that was pretty freaky. How many other times has Paul done this? Was he driving my car at the time? Because...that kind of accident in the Honda would kill you and leave the other driver completely unaware that they'd been in an accident.

After that, I started to feel sleepy. Then I started to think it was too hard to talk, so I went quiet. And Paul wove through the countryside back to 24 to head in the right direction, and I stopped answering people when they asked me questions, because thinking was really hard and making decisions was impossible.

Apparently, I went pale and they all became worried. They gave me food, and I was forced to get up and go into the restaurant. Also, I had to order.

Just to give you an idea as to how freaky it got (I was fine, the others were the ones freaking out), I knew I needed sugar, but I couldn't get it myself because my arms were so heavy. Paul got my drink and he put it down on the table next to mine. But I couldn't bring myself to pick it up. So I sat there until he realized what was going on and gave me my drink.

When I perked up a bit, I convinced my family that I didn't need to be taken right home and put into bed. And I was fine for the rest of the day.

Hypoglycemia? Maybe? Yeah. I think so.

Mom thinks this is a terrifying medical condition. But really, I am this way normally. The only difference was the exercise. I have to eat tons more in order to exercise. And I still lose weight. I just need more fuel ready for consumption than some people. I convinced her I didn't really need to go to the hospital.

My friends will tell you how testy I get when I need food. And usually, I have a Sweet Tea and it isn't important. But apparently, Mom and Paul have been away from me long enough not to remember some of the funny from when I was in junior high and high school.

Too bad for them. It got pretty funny.

1 comment:

  1. I'm sorry, that's a terrible feeling I know. Hopefully you drank some Mr. Pibb, that would perk anyone up. Or maybe Paul should've tried driving into oncoming traffic again to keep you alert.

    Ps. We still need to celebrate your new car!!