… “You can have pickles? Or gelatin? Or cucumber slices!”
My mom tried to make these options sound appealing and delicious, but when I was a kid and my blood sugar was super high, pickles weren’t what I craved. My body wanted to chug water and cheeseburgers simultaneously in efforts to cleanse the ketones and sate the high hunger.
“Can I have something else?”
“Not right now. Those are the free foods you can have, until your blood sugar comes down.” she’d reply.
The phrase ‘free foods’ was a real one, twenty years ago in our household.”
… more about free foods at Animas.
I remember being nine or ten years old, on my hands and knees, crawling up the staircase to get to the kitchen, where my mom was cooking dinner.
I remember calling out for my mom, but the words lost their form and letters fell into a heap on the staircase.
I remember my mom sitting on the kitchen floor with me, breaking graham crackers into smaller bites and putting them in my mouth, dinner burning in pans on the stove. I remember my mom’s eyes being very wide but she wasn’t crying. I remember a glass of juice. I remember it was hard to chew because I was crying but I wasn’t sure why, and then there’s a sharp edit in my memory, where I don’t have any recollection of what happened next.
As quickly as it came, the low blood sugar passed. I don’t remember what caused it. I don’t remember recovering. I don’t remember what my face looked like, or how empty my eyes must have been, or what I sounded like as I crawled up the stairs, calling for my mom. I don’t remember thinking about it for days afterwards. I don’t remember feeling affected by it for more than those few minutes.
I think about my mother, cleaning up the cracker crumbs and placing the juice glass in the sink, salvaging what was left of the dinner she was cooking, trying to forget.
[For more posts about Memories on D-Blog Week, check out these links.]