Sunday, October 05, 2008

Soccer Game

I'm in my senior year, and that means that I know most of my classmates. This quarter, I'm taking a course on statistics. Two of my classmates are student athletes- athletes whose tuition is paid for by being on a sports team. One of them in the pitcher of the softball team- she comes in with ice on her shoulder some mornings. She was in my oceanography course last spring, and I've gone to some of her games. The other student student athlete I hadn't had as a classmate before, but she's on the soccer team. Soccer season is now. I figured I'd go to a game.

The game was scheduled for 1 PM. I packed my bag with some library books to return, my diabetes supplies, a notebook for boredom, and lots of food in case of hypos. I went to wait for the bus just past noon, and missed a bus going by. The next one didn't come for forty minutes, and traffic was icky. It started to rain when we were halfway there, and I considered just getting off the bus and going to the library instead. I knew I was going to be late, and I didn't know how long a women's college soccer game would last. But I rode the bus all the way, and then went to the stadium. The rain was coming down harder, and some of the spectators were holding umbrellas. There were about five minutes left in the first half. The score was 0 to 0.

I sat down about two feet from the field, and it rained more. During halftime, the rain came down hard, and I asked somebody how hard it had to rain for the game to get rained out. He went and asked an official, and came back to say that games would only be called if there was lightning. It didn't look like lightning. The game resumed after halftime, and I saw that each half was 45 minutes. Real minutes, no subtracting minutes while waiting for penalty kicks or anything. My classmate is our goalie. I learned that in soccer, the goalie defines the team. The other team's goalie was physically amazing. First off, she was built. Second, she made a lot of amazing saves. A double digit number of saves. The ball was in her court a lot, and she didn't let. Our goalie, my classmate, was of a different style. She did a lot of shouting, directing her teamates. The ball rarely got close to her, and when it did, she ran in and got the ball and then kicked it way far away. Thirty minutes into the second half, she ran for the ball, and she didn't run fast enough. Somebody kicked the ball, and it went in the goal. 1 to 0. No more scoring happened during the rest of the game. Both goalies were amazing, but I bet my classmate is going to still be upset about letting in the one goal tomorrow.

A lot more raining happened though. I eventually stopped minding being wet, and just admired all the rain. The ground was so wet that when the ball skipped accross the field, it splashed and splashed at every bounce. And remember, this is a smooth, perfect, collegiate field. We got wet. After the game, when I got on the train, I took out my meter and found that it was... wet. Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. I cleaned it out as best I could but couldn't get it to test my bloodsugar. I went to the library, stayed there awhile, and then went home, started reading through my books, thought I might be hypo, reached for my meter.

Stuck in a strip, but it didn't turn on. Tried a different strip, nothing. Pressed on the button, nothing. So I peeled my used test strip artwork off the back of the meter, and called Accu-Chek. Thought I was going to need a new meter, and the guy on the phone sounded like he thought so too. Then he asked me to open the battery cover, and check the battery. I did. Was the battery wet? No. Take it out and put it back in. Now try turning on the meter. It turned on! I told him to stay on the line while I tried to test my blood sugar. It worked! 78, though I didn't tell him that. I felt kind of foolish and hung up. No new meter, but I don't mind.

Today was the Ron Santo Walk to Cure Diabetes, but I didn't go. Did you know that Ron Santo didn't go on insulin until he had been diagnosed for two years? He wasn't even on insulin yet when he was my age, not until his third year in the major leagues did he take insulin. I read his autobiography on Rosh Hashana. He was diagnosed with prandials in the 400s and fastings normal, no symptoms, age 18. He didn't want to admit he was diabetic, refused insulin. Two years later got sick, lost a lot of weight, had leg cramps (probably ketosis), went on insulin. He is currently a radio announcer who announces Cubs games.

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