This Week’s Bag: Diabetes at the Theatre

March 16, 2012By 0 Comments

  Among all the things my husband James supports     me in, including my diabetes through all the ups and downs,   he has also attempted to bring out the thespian (theatre person) in me.   I put ‘theatre person’ in parenthesis because for me, I never knew what a thespian even was before I met James.  My idea of culture consists of heartfelt acoustic songwriters getting on stage to pour their hearts out with their lonely instruments, or watching a classic 80’s movie like Beaches or Saint Elmo’s Fire and balling my eyes out.   He has definitely opened my eyes to what the theatre has to offer, and yet I still never learn my lesson with how to properly dress up my diabetes for the theatre.

For his birthday, I got us tickets to see Les Miserables at the Boston Opera House on opening night.  He was in the play as a child, and for some odd reason he loves live musicals as much as he loves a good UFC fight, go figure.  We spent the day putzing around the city, and wouldn’t you know it, that just a few minutes after we left the Prudential center, a transformer blows and the entire area lost power.  Sometimes I wonder if I drain the power out of every room that I leave? 🙂 We changed our clothes in the car in the parking garage (cause that’s how we roll) and headed to dinner.

I rushed to switch out my purses in the car.  I went from my giant over-sized Tory Burch tote to a lovely, but tiny, Cole Haan clutch (believe it or not I never used to be into purses).   I thought to myself, “okay, just throw in the necessities…” (i.e. license, lipgloss, and inhaler).   I knew I had my CGM on, and that I would be back to the car within a few hours so I didn’t take my meter.  Mistake number one.   Then, as usual, I hate being cold and I usually say I would rather sweat then be freezing, so I put on my warm blazer over my blouse.  Mistake number two.   In hind sight, the only smart thing I did was put a roll of lifesavers in my clutch along with the lint stuck on it.

We grabbed dinner next door to the theatre.  I ate a simple chicken and green bean dish.  Prior to the meal, I could feel I was dropping.  We had been walking around the city most of the day, and I thought I had a good handle on eating just enough carbs to cover my activity, but apparently it wasn’t enough.  So when I started to drop at dinner, I ate some bread and didn’t bolus for it (whipping out a Juicebox at the white linen table just didn’t fit the moment).  I had one glass of red wine with dinner.  Rushing into the theatre, as we were running late, I asked my husband to grab me a coke and some M&M’s from the concession stand, as I could feel that I was yet again dropping.  I was starting to sweat a little too, but I thought it may be just because we had been rushing around.  As we sat in our incredibly uncomfortable seats (seats which are made for the tiniest people on the planet), I piled my clutch, 2 Playbills, my camera, and M&M’s on my lap.  As I balanced my pile of random stuff, I held onto the stupid cup of coke in which they gave me no lid for.  The play began.  I still felt low, there was no way that one glass of wine gave me such a buzz that would make me sweat as much as I was!  My CGM told me I was about 85, but there were no arrows going down to tell me I was as low as I was feeling.  My meter was far away in the parking garage to confirm the accuracy, I was now squeezed into my seat like a sausage, and I wanted my husband to know I was enjoying myself and engaged in the play that means so much to him.

I forgot to mention, that this particular night was an unusually warm night in Boston, and it was about 64 degrees outside, and the heat was blazing inside…. And I was stuck in a low blood sugar marathon.  Oh, and I had to pee so bad from chugging the coke so that I wouldn’t spill it all over myself and I was trapped between my husband and an angry looking women on the other side of me so I couldn’t get up.  Moral of the story, my blood sugar eventually came up, I was able to take off my blazer during intermission, and pee.   I slapped myself in the face (in my mind)for knowing better and knowing I should have allowed my meter to take the place of my lip gloss in my tiny clutch.   I was so consumed with not wanting to over-treat my low and end up sitting through a play with a high, that I let myself just be uncomfortable for a 3 hour performance.  I need to keep reminding myself that no one really cares how big my purse is, and if I want to bring a fan and a giant blanket in my purse along with all my diabetes crap, then so be it.  Silly Regina.   Les Mis was wonderful, but I’ll take an acoustic show at a venue with lots of leg room any day!

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