Delusions of grandeur

Last month I needed a blood test and I had an eye appointment. Because anything that involves me leaving the house has a similar set of challenges, I arranged for care for my mother and was going to get all my medical stuff done on the same day.

It started off really well. I made an earlier bus than I needed and finished my book before checking in at the first appointment. This was important, because my eyes were going to be dilated and there was not going to be any reading after the appointment. Score!

Trimet trip planner had said the best way to get from Point A to Point B was to walk from St. Vincent's to Sunset Transit Center and grab a 48. I had never taken that path before and was a little worried about traffic (the area right around there is busy and some of the intersections are a little complicated) but I made it - still ahead of schedule - and started the last leg of my journey.

I was feeling really good about this. I'm sure some of it was the thrill of being on my own, even if it wasn't for doing fun stuff. Beyond that, it's nice to sometimes feel like I am accomplishing things and competent again; this current life phase does not give me a lot of that.

I had not gone to the Tanasbourne Providence by bus for a while, so I was not sure about the pathway there either; there has been a lot of construction and change. As I was getting across Cornell I could see that they had really improved pedestrian access and there was nothing to worry about.

Just as I got onto the sidewalk, I felt my blood sugar plunge.

This was not a tragedy. If it had fallen like that in the middle of Cornell, it could have been, but I was safely on sidewalk with guardrails. I quickly took a glucose tab, took one more immediately after, and then I went and got my blood test done. I had thought about taking the bus home too, but I called my sister and had her pick me up instead. That seemed like a better idea. I went home and had dinner and everything was back to normal, with two important tasks completed.

Obviously, one point of that story is that I shouldn't get cocky. I don't fall into low blood sugar often, but when it happens it takes away all of my illusions of strength and durability. Yes, I am sensitive to when it comes - and that is helpful - and I am prepared for it to come with keeping the glucose tabs on hand. Before that, though, there is a certain unpredictability that just grabs me and reminds me that I have a chronic illness in a way that the daily regimen of measuring and injecting doesn't. I suppose it's because those steps feel like keeping it under control, and then the drop is a reminder that control is limited.

Also, there is a way in which it is not completely unpredictable, in that when it happens I am probably in the middle of something, maybe trying to do more than usual or do it for longer. I don't want the interruption but I don't get a choice.

So there's that.

In addition, when you look further so much of that being in charge was never real anyway. Arranging care for my mother took not one but two sisters, because one was available earlier than the one who was available longer. My mobility was possible because I live in an area that values public transit. My medical appointments were possible because I live in a state that does not believe that having no income should automatically bar me from having healthcare. If not, there would have been no ophthalmologist visit and no A1C test, even though both of those things are important parts of staying on top of my chronic illness.

There are a lot of factors that go into the opportunities that are there for each of us. Of course our own efforts matter, but it's foolish to think that is all.

I am grateful for my sisters, Tri-met, and the Oregon Health Plan. None of them are perfect; they all still help me.

I'm still not grateful for diabetes or Alzheimer's, but they are still a big part of my learning and my growth. It's not even unfair, it just is.

And if my blood sugar had to drop, I'm glad that it was on the right side of the intersection. That could have been messy.