Sunday, March 16, 2008


I started my counter today. I'm curious about how many visitors I get.

I'm also curious what several cans of mountain dew do to a diabetic. Better than alcohol - I'll pass out in a Mountain Dew coma. yesssss. Maybe I won't dream, which would be the best present to me ever.

I still can't believe how much I drank last night and how little I felt it. I only got a 1/2 hour or so of being silly and not knowing what was going on. And during that time, what did I do? Played Chinese checkers. L to the AME. Lame. Not that it had anything to do with Lena or her party (the food was BEYOND fabulous. I ate way too much - maybe that's why I didn't get more drunk.) For the little time I was drunk, it never occured to me that I'm still diabetic. I was sleepy, and thanks to Chad, I was able to remember I need to check my blood sugar.

He asked, "Isn't there some way you can test your blood sugar?" After I asked how many carbs are in alcohol (this seems to be my only concern when I get drunk - "How many carbs are in an alcohol?" As if I have any idea how much I've had to drink, or I have the math skills to calculate how much insulin to take.) Chad's suggestion hit me like a ton of bricks. "You mean, I can check to see if I need to take insulin? I can prick my finger and see what the sugar content of my blood is? NO WAY!!!" Way to be smart, Carla.

While drunk, I am still able to explain why my system needs insulin to take care of the alcohol and I'm also able to soot up the insulin. Go me. I have no idea whether or not I gave the correct amount of insulin, but I gave myself insulin, and I guess that's all that matters.

It was really disappointing how long the drunk lasted. An hour, tops, maybe. If that. By the time I gave myself the insulin I was starting to not be so drunk anymore. And you know, maybe I didn't get more drunk because of those damn alcoholic genes in me. DAMN YOU RELATIVES FOR NOT LETTING ME ENJOY ALCOHOL.

I've heard that you're supposed to enjoy it more if you have the alcoholic gene. It may take more to get you drunk, but you're supposed to like it more. I don't like it very much. Maybe I didn't get the gene - maybe my system views alcohol as a vacation. What's this? Something poisonous? "Yipee! At least it's not those damn antibiotics again," my already calcified liver cheers. My poor little kidneys chime in, "This shit is nothing compared to that stuff she shoots up!"

Wow, my system must really enjoy the hour or two I have alcohol in my system. It's a short break from the five weeks of dangerous antibiotics being shot straight to my heart. I never really thought of drinking that way. I should drink more often to give my system longer breaks.

Lena told me last night not to do anything stupid. Too late. I'm going to pass out in a diabetic Mountain Dew coma. Since I'm not fully diabetic, my blood sugar shouldn't get higher then 300 (only on prednisone did it ever get over 300- and the bastards thought I was "over reacting") so it shouldn't be dangerous. Wise? No. Dangerous? Probably not. If I die in my sleep, well at least we can say the CF didn't get me - it was the Mountain Dew.

If I die in my sleep from this, please, please write on my tombstone "At least the CF didn't get her, it was the Mountain Dew." That will make me laugh for years in heaven. Every time I think about my death I will giggle. Maybe this IS how I want to die.

I wonder how many Mountain Dews I have left in the fridge... I'm only curious.

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