Grandpa is Not Invincible

 Wednesday Night Trail of Tears

 I had a very scary experience Wednesday evening, 9 December 2020.
Jacque and I rode our trikes over to the local chiropractor, a mile or so away.
I needed to get some glucose meter test strips, so I had planned to ride my trike on over to the local Big Box Store (WM) to purchase same, while Jacque rode on back to the house.
I was feeling a bit woozy when we exited the bone-shaker office, and for some odd reason I didn't think to test my blood glucose before I rode onward.  As I rode the familiar and easy route toward the north end of town, I was getting "foggier and foggier" in my brain, still not thinking to simply pull over and test my glucose. 
I was really in a funk by the time I got to the stop light at the overpass going over Highway 60, less than a quarter mile from my desired destination.
The only thing I can vaguely recall from then on is a state of total fear and confusion.  I could not figure out where I was or what was going on.  A weird vision like a frightening cartoon played in front of me, with various strangers looking at me, trying to talk to me, asking if I was all right, etc, etc.  I didn't recognize any of them, nor the settings around me, though they were normally familiar settings (I was seeing the nearby Murphy's Gas Station, with various cars in and out, but I just could not process anything in my mind.)  I felt trapped, like I couldn't move, being "stuck" in this horrible nightmare of strangers around me and unrecognizable surroundings.  I wanted help and relief, but not from all these weird strangers that kept floating in and out of my vision.  I responded angrily to all those who approached me or talked to me.  I began crying out for Jacque to help me, hoping she would somehow be able to get me out of this mess of weird visions and sounds. She wasn't there and I continued to suffer, totally unable to understand what was going on.  I was helpless but fought fiercely against all the strangers who approached in this weird nightmare setting.
I began to see a weird armored door at my feet, with a glassed-in shelf to my right containing bottles of some sort, almost like a medicine cabinet.

I was still agonizing for Jacque to rescue me, and eventually a gal who looked somewhat like her appeared, though I didn't recognize her for several minutes and didn't respond to her at first. 
Finally, I realized it WAS her, strange though she still seemed.
As I began recognizing my surroundings, I realized I was in a rescue van from Mercy Hospital, and Jacque was rubbing my head, trying to calm me down, and a female and a male medical team were working on me, having implanted an infusion tube in my wrist, pumping glucagon into me, trying to bring me OUT of the most Horrible Insulin Reaction I've ever experienced.
- I had ignored several warning signs of low blood sugar.
- In the past, I've always been able to deal with low sugar episodes, stuff something sweet into my mouth, etc.  I keep my pants, trike, and other vehicles stocked with sweets for just such occasions.
- BUT this time I was completely hopeless, and likely would have died had no one stopped to help.
Thankfully, several people did help, and put up with my abusive behavior trying to reject them.

SO, now I have suffered a horrible thing:  Realizing I need to pay better attention to all situations and GIVE UP the idea that I can always deal with things myself.  BAH