GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #58: CHANGES

I swear to fuck, I can't figure out what's going on with my body right now. I've been testing and double-checking results, and I'm in a bit of a quandary.


OK, it would seem that when I behave myself, I've been getting super-low blood sugar readings. Ordinarily, that would be good considering my 'Beetus. However, my readings are so low they're fucking everything else up.


When I act like an animal--these days, not way-back-when--my readings are a bit high, but they're acceptable. I'm getting mixed messages here.


After adding everything up, I can only assume I have two choices. Everything else sucks, because if I behave myself AND take my meds, I find myself in a hateful position where I want to vegetate instead of do anything useful. Here are my choices.


Keep up my meds but add some sugar to my lunch (maybe a can of soda). This will keep me from going into a diabetic coma while still obeying my doctor, more or less.


Or . . . I can disobey my doctor and cut one of my meds out while sticking to the plan I have now. This is fiscally irresponsible, since I just bought a three-month supply of my meds, and I'm still waiting for my doctor to get back to me in regards to my most recent blood test.


I think I'm going with the latter, at least for now. I'm tired of being angry all the time. Also, I can't fall asleep at my job. I certainly can't fall asleep while driving home from work every day. And I definitely can't bring myself to waste $40 worth of meds. I think I'm just going to add a bit of sugar to my diet. Hopefully, I'll be able to control myself so I don't need to get my feet chopped off. (Although if I had to lose my feet, it might be cool to lose them as a special effect for THE EXPENDABLES 4, if they're planning on that happening. Chuck Norris is in that series now, right? Bill Hicks wouldn't cringe too much.)


I couldn't write tonight because of my diabetic incident. I couldn't exercise, either. I loaded down on sugar until I reached the point where I was hopped up and bouncing off the walls. Except now I have to go to bed, so I administered a bit of booze to take the edge off. I feel like I'm living a lonely, isolated version of THE WOLF OF WALL STREET right now, a version that involves no money at all. How awful is that?


New blood sugar experiments begin tomorrow. I'll report the results then, if my mindless whoring of my work doesn't get in the way. Fuck.