Needing Help

Today was the opposite of yesterday. My numbers were good. My life was a mess.

Last night's low kept me up late so waking today was hard. I was called into work at 1:00, but the stage manager had asked if I could come at 12:30 to talk with him and the head of puppetry. A private meeting with two of the head honchos can only go two ways. They don't call you in for being average, and I was right in suspecting that I wasn't being called in for being exceptional. They spent about 2 minutes asking how I was dealing with Diabetes and I chose, as i always will, not to use it as an excuse. With that settled, they went in for the kill.

In words already forgotten but sentiments that will leave scars they expressed their disappointment in my recent performances, their nervousness about my state of understanding the new tracks, and their trepidation about putting me on as Joey. They accused me of "phoning it in," of not knowing my blocking, of deliberately being uncommunicative with my team, and of puppeteering in such a way that my physical presence distracts from the story, and what did I have to say for myself?

Uh... ouch. That hurt worse than injecting insulin into your foot.

I was outraged. I was upset. I was angry at myself. I was livid at them! I wished for the ability to take them back in time to a place where such things were settled physically. It's hard for me to describe how slighted I've felt with regards to the new production of War Horse. I made one request, not to have to work with a certain individual. Everybody else had their requests granted except me. "Sorry," the head of puppetry said at the time, "I owe you big." And then again today, "I know I'm asking a lot of you, working with, well, I'm not going to say any names here, but I know... I know I'm asking a lot." But it didn't have to be that way! And nobody understands what it's like trying to work with this guy. It's toxic. I'm repulsed. When I hold his hand for the final bows my hand burns and my heart hurts. I can feel his presence and it makes me unhappy. Nobody understands but Tom Lee. But trying to explain is futile.

In the meantime I did my best in the Act 1 run through. It was better, of that I'm sure. But I'll still get noted for all the same things. I only hope it was good enough for them to feel secure in my ability again; for them to have confidence in my competence. I hope so. Tomorrow will tell many things.


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11:12 -> 145 slight headache, probably from partial dehydration and some sleepiness (from going to bed late) but otherwise good. 5 units NovoLog with my epic cereal, an apple and an egg (jumbo).
2:07 -> 126 Had half a pb&j and participated in the fight call for act 1 as Joey. By 4:00 I finished the pb&j and had a clif bar.
6:27 -> 165 I guess the clif bar was more sugar than Act 1 in Joey called for. Took 5 units with a Chipotle chicken burrito, a small banana and a small handful of blueberries.
12:30 -> 130 15 units of Lantus and 5 units of Novolog with dinner: salad (red romaine, cucs, tomatoes, avocado, arugula sprouts, feta, parmesan, evoo, balsamic, 2 veggie sausages), 2 baby apples and two medium yams.
2:57 -> 88 This is a good number. But just to be safe I had a handful of blueberries to make sure I make it through the night. Washed it down with ACV spiked water. Delicious.



Also something dawned on me today while on the phone with my family. They decided to say a prayer with me on the phone. There I sat on the floor in my hallway leaning up against a wall, the fluorescent light flickering above me, while 3000+ miles away half a dozen people were praying... for me -- for my health, and my well-being, and the presence of God in my actions. I'm not used to being at the receiving end of prayers for health. I've always been healthy. I could handle my body myself. It's always been something I've had control of. My body, entrusted to me at birth to look after as my most valuable tool in life. As a soldier treats his rifle or an photographer his camera, I treated my body better. I never needed the help or prayers. I sculpted what I had deliberately and with care. But the control has been stripped away. And even though I've always thought of myself as being partly defined by my self-sufficiency, I need the help and support and prayers.

Tomorrow I wake up at 8:15 to go get 15 vials of blood taken for testing purposes. From there I go to see a nurse who will tell me everything I ever needed to know about Diabetes. Finally I head to the theatre for a 1 hour note session followed by a run of Act 2 (in Joey) and then a performance (in Topthorn). It can't get much worse, which means I can take comfort that it will soon get better.

Day 17