#labradane

[iaminaglasscaseofemotion]

[wandanvision]

Meet Axel Rose K

[thefandomimagines]

Its been forever, so here's a picture of my pupper to make it better

[geraltofsuburbia]

My babies: Freya (cat), Asuna (dog). There’s so good with each other, no fights and plenty of cuddles.

[spoonlesstheory-blog]

Possibly forever my favorite photo of him.

[iaminaglasscaseofemotion]

[spoonlesstheory-blog]

So many good oldies I have saved

[spoonlesstheory-blog]

Hypoglycemia is sweaty hands, chapped lips, slurred speech, and the frequent public assumption that you’re under the influence. It’s being nauseated to the point that water is unappetizing but goddammit you’re gonna eat. It’s trembling in a cold sweat and yawning an alarming amount of times in a minute. The best part about it is it’s not covered by insurance and the only real treatment is “snack often”. 

Diabetes runs through my family, and much like all of those distasteful and untrue jokes, it’s the only thing that runs in my family. You guessed it, majority of those cases are Type 2. I managed to take after my family at a young age and got slapped in the face by a high A1C level and a failed glucose tolerance test. By the time I was able to bring my A1C down and get my body mostly functioning, I had fried my insides so much that now whenever I eat items with a high sugar content my body just kinda goes “Thanks.....I think. But what do I do with it?” 

But not today, no sir. Today I woke up thinking I must have really slept in because my head was spinning. my center of gravity was on vacation, and even my thoughts were running on auto-correct. But why wasn’t my lanky burrito alerting to me? Why was he just sleeping on the couch so peacefully? So I whipped out my meter as I resentfully glared at him across the room and found myself stumped at the sight of a glucose level in the 140′s before I had even done so much as smelled food. Fourth time this week my glucose had spike but I’m hypoglycemic, so what is this fuckery? Did I fall back into the trend of B&B (Benches and Burritos)? In one months time I’ll find out but in the mean time if you need me, I’ll be shoving scented cotton balls up Hemingway’s nose as he learns this new alert and having a stern talk in the mirror because my body needs to get its shit together.