Now and Then There'll Be Days Like This

I woke up this morning and got ready to go into the Flying J. I like to park close to the restaurant entrance. The handicap spaces are close to the door, and the rest rooms close to that entrance too.

First thing in the morning, before I've had my anti-inflammatories, Prednisone, Benadryl, Protonix, glimepiride, Glucophage, Synthroid, acyclovir, Cipro, minocycline, Prozac, and Xanax, I tend to move a bit slowly. I can take my four inhalers (Afrin, Flonase, Atrovent, and Azmacort), but for the rest I need a little cushion of food in there. A sort of food pillow to plop those pills down on. (Well, except the antibiotics, which are more effective on an empty stomach, so I have to time those. And that list didn't include the supplements I take. Details details.)

So I pull up to the Optimal Parking Area and find - the handicap spaces are being restriped.


Uh-oh.

I look over to the kitty-corner entrance, the one to the c-store. NO! They're striping ALL of them at the same time. Cones up, barriers.

grump grump grump!

Okay. I'll fuel up and do the car windows. Usually I do that the night before, but I was too tired last night.

I'm watching to see if a close, non-handicap space opens up. When I'm almost done fueling - one does.

YESSS!!! Quick quick quick! (Which, see, my current version of *quick* is NOT what it was.)

And just as I was wiping the last drips of water off the back window, some perfectly talented-at-walking person pulled in and swiped *my* space.

CRAP.

grump grump grump!

I drove back to the Optimal Parking Area. And spied the Striper Man.

I pulled up and lowered my window. --Excuse me. Any idea when I can go in and get my breakfast?

He comes over. At first he starts explaining, --OH, no no, can't park here just now... --I know. Sir. I can't walk good.

--OH! I see. Well, hell. Just pull in and park in front here, parallel. It's okay.

I hesitate.

--I'm telling you it's okay. You won't get in any trouble, don't worry about it.

I still hesitate. I don't want to be in the way of other cars, RVs and things go by. But he insists, points out they have a lot of room to get by me, so I accept it. He guides me in so I don't run over his nice fresh wet stripes.

I get out. I'm verrry slow this time of the day. I'm still talking to the man, he's a little distance off now. And an elderly lady lets him know, --There's a lady yelling at you over there!

--HELL no!-- he hollers back at her. --We been talkin. She's okay! She's FINE! She's my CAUSE, now. That lady needs a space so I'm making sure she can eat her breakfast.

I'm grinning. --Didn't mean to yell. I talk loud sometimes because I can't hear myself.--

He tells me, --If you're a cripple, hey. You deserve to park close. I may be one myself one day. I've got diabetes, since 1983.

He's in great shape, and I compliment him.

--Well, for a long time I was. I worked out a lot. But the last two years it's really fallen off. My blood sugar's probably between 200 and 400 right now.

Yikes!

--How are your feet?

--Not too bad. This one's getting pretty numb sometimes but I can still feel it, so that's okay.

We chat a bit, then I head on inside the building.

crip crip crip

huff huff huff

I plunk my purse and computer bag on a bench in front of the ladies' room, and go in there, come back out. Pick my stuff back up. I need to go ALL the way to the back of the restaurant here if I want electricity as I dine. I do.

crip crip crip

huff huff huff

People are looking at me, as always, and trying not to let me see them do it, as always. It's okay. While I was in the ladies' room I hooked my bra back up.

I finally arrive at the same table I sat at last night. And just before I sit down, I realize I've dragged a piece of toilet paper, stuck to the bottom of my flip-flop, all the way down that gauntlet.

blush blush blush

I sit down. Lively damn waitresses in this joint, I've noticed. The nice lady brings me a Diet Coke.

But it's not.

Tastes great though.

Tastes like Dr. Pepper.

With sugar in it.

I tell the waitress. She says she got it from the Diet Coke fountain, so, let's see. She brings me another one.

Nope. --Tastes great,-- I said. --But I sure don't think it's Diet Coke. I don't mind the taste, it's just that I have diabetes, and I was saving my sugar for something from the buffet.

--I bet those guys crossed the lines. Tell you what, I'll make them change it back out and bring you a REAL Diet Coke.

--No, no, that's all right, water's fine, thanks.

I sit down and eat and so on. Pretty soon, Striper Man and Wife sit down right next to me. Wife's the boss, it's her business. Mostly now he's a driver escort for heavy loads, he's just helping her out today. He said the wife is rough. I'd told him,

--That's GOOD for you!-- Listening to her at the table? Yup. She's rough, all right.

We nod. After a time he goes out, removes the cones, comes back and lets me know I can move the car any time I want.

About half hour later, a guy with a managerial air comes by, and leans over me at my table. --Is that your car parked that way? I mean, that's not how you're supposed to park. All we need is some yahoo come barrelling around the corner and --

I point to Striper Man. --Ask him. We were getting striped.

Manager man wants me to move my car. When I get up and his eyes drop to my feet he wants to do it for me.

--No, no, I'm fine, I'm much better now, thank you.

I came back to find the breakfast buffet gone, and the lunch buffet in its place. Well, hell, I was done anyway.

I did, however, decide that this morning required a certain Healing Medicine in the form of a small piece of warm fresh chocolate pudding cake. The kind that comes with the lunch buffet - but not the breakfast one.