One of my friends from my Duran Duran mailing list sent out a message detailing her trials and tribulations with low blood sugar. That made me think of a little story. Since I’m so stressed out (the wedding is in 17 days) I thought a fond memory might serve some good. It should also give you, my loyal public, some insight into the reason behind the marriage.
I’m hypoglycemic. Joy. Anyway, on the night before Valentine's Day of 1998, James and Harold and Sonya and I went out for Sonya's birthday. (James and I had already had our "big date" the night before). We ate pizza and king cakeand drank an exhorbidant amount of wine and beer.
The next morning, I got in the shower. James happened to be in there as well (funny, that) and the water was very hot. The bathrooms in the building don't have any ventilation so the steam was getting pretty thick (no . . . not from that you cheeky monkey ). I stuck my head outside the curtain to try and get some fresh air. Unfortunately for my face I was too late. I felt myself start to swoon but before I could stop myself, I took a dive (face first) into the toilet. James tried to catch me (unsuccessfully – poor dear even threw his back out) and I bit through my lower lip - well the skin between that and my chin - with my two front teeth.
All the while Harold and Sonya are asleep in the bedroom. James throws on a towell and gives them the bad news. They find me wet and shivering on the couch. I’m in shock so I insist that I’m ok. James says “No, no, no!” and starts getting me dressed. I had to go to the hospital and get stitches. James is totally freaking out (we’ve had only known each other for four months at this point, and only been dating for two). I don’t know what scared him most. He had a lot of possibilities to mull over:
1. I would dump him.
2. I would be hideously disfigured.
3. My Dad would kill him.
4. My Mother would find out that he had been in the shower with me.
But there was some good to come out of the whole hypoglycemic mess.
1. I got a cool Harrison Ford type scar.
2. I got my man.
You see James said that when he looked at me (dazed from a concussion) after I fell, he knew that he was in love with me. And I knew when he took me to the hospital and he was so worried and genuinely concerned about my wellbeing, that I loved him.
I look back on it now as a test of sorts. James graduated with honors (hence the wedding). My previous boyfriend of five years didn’t pass it (hence the previous).
You see, I am somewhat accident-prone. Back in the summer of 1986, I took a stumble. I came home from work and started down the flight of stairs that led to the basement of my parent’s house. We lived in the basement for over two years. It’s a long story and I’ll leave it for another time as well. So, I’m wearing these wide legged pants with cuffs and one of them, unbenounced to me, has become undone. As I step down, my shoe catches it and I am immediately sent into a tumble. Now I think that I hit my hip on the third step and then banged my head against the furdown. We concluded that that knocked me out cold since I ended up on the landing 10 steps below in a pool of blood.
It was about 15 minutes later that I regained consciousness. I was on the phone. I guess that I remembered the number because it was the last one that I called before I left the office. I don’t remember a lot after that. The neighbors came in and tried to clean me up before my parents got there. Then they took me to the hospital. I had to wait forever. The power went out. That made me wait even longer. Chris, the former flame, came by on his way home from work. In the fifteen or twenty minutes that he stayed he seemed rather unconcerned. I didn’t think about it much at the time (having the concussion and all) or even in the months that followed.
As I was sitting on the gurney in the emergency room waiting to get sewn up, it hit me. Suddenly I saw everything clearly. I saw all that was wrong with my co-dependent nature and looked up to see someone that I wanted to spend my life with. Of course at that moment, he looked as if he was about to shit his pants, but love overlooks such things.
I’m sure you’re wondering how I got from low blood sugar to love. Just go with it. It’s a love thing, baby.
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