This is such a small thing I can’t believe I feel compelled to blog about it. Then again, maybe it’s a huge thing. So who knows.
But it happened again yesterday.
I went to visit my parents after work last night because my dad had shoulder surgery yesterday and he needed ice for his cold machine. I went to the grocery and got 4 ten pound bags and carted them in. I went to the frozen yogurt shop and brought him some frozen yogurt for when he got hungry. I got him orange juice, no pulp, for when he got thirsty.
And when I took all the stuff in and sat down to chat with them, I realized that I hadn’t eaten much all afternoon and I was low. I announced “I’m low” right after I sat down.
That’s when it happened.
My mom asked me if I’d like her to get me some juice.
And (this is the little/big deal) I said “yes, please.” And I sat there until she brought me the juice.
I’m slowly realizing that I have said “no, I can get it” for decades now when I’ve been low. Decades. And I’m finally realizing now how unnecessary all of that has been.
I don’t know who I’ve been trying to impress, or what I’ve been trying to prove, and I certainly don’t know who I’m trying to prove something to—probably it has been to myself. And, many times I just want to take care of the low instead of facing the worried expressions and frantic scurries that result from my explanations of what I need. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t feel normal, either.
But sheesh. Here I am, devoting my evening (quite happily, I assure you) to making my parents more comfortable and when I am in an overall minor medical predicament I want to refuse help?
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had someone else that I am not related to bring me low food or juice. I just don’t usually let it happen. Yet I know that every time I have accepted the help I really appreciate it, and in a lot of ways it feels like a vacation.
So I decided yesterday I’m going to ask for more help with my lows. Not because my lows are any worse than they ever have been, and not because I necessarily “need” the help. But because I think it would feel precisely what it is: help.
I could use some help with my diabetes.
We all could.
