Shop 'til you drop

I was going to call this post "Kindness of Strangers," but the term appeared when I began typing in the Title box. Can't find that I posted something in this blog with that title, but I've used it somewhere recently in a fill-in box. So, in the interest of variety, I picked a new title.

Back to the story, augmented with Ten Valuable Life Lessons:

I went to the Red Cross after work and donated blood. I have a fairly rare blood type, so I try and go every 8-10 weeks. I've done this for decades, with the exception of the 12-month deferral after I returned from Haiti.

No problems with the donation, which took just at 5 minutes from poke to clamp. Took far longer to answer all of the questions about the people with whom I'm not having sex and all of the places where I'm not traveling. Red Cross was picked pretty clean, with only pretzels left in the canteen. I think I ate some, but I'm not so completely sure. I did have a cappuccino from the machine.

Leaving, I couldn't help noticing the ominous clouds, wind and lightning all around, including in the direction I was headed in -- homeward. Looking west/northwest when I got to the chicken processing plant, I noticed clear, bright skies. I recalled the gift certificate I'd received last PM from my sister in a bday card, and decided to head for the light. Just a brief trip to look at some tops, I thought to myself.

Lesson One: heading for the light is not always the best idea, even if it seems to be a way to avoid the stress of driving through storms.

I drove to Kohls, a big box discounter. The layout in the Misses section was a bit confusing, with lots of poking and looking to find items in a particular size or color as most things seemed to be on clearance. I'd neglected to grab a cart/buggy, so was carrying around the pile of items I was considering.

Halfway through trying on the 2nd pile (limit 5 items per trip), I started feeling weird. I noticed my pulse was a bit fast & I felt weak, so I sat down on the microscopic ledge and checked my blood sugar. Fine, if not a bit high (still not sure if I ate any pretzels...) Still felt odd, thought maybe the reading could be off, rechecked. No different. Still felt weak, sat down again and downed a sugar packet. No better.

Decision to make: Do I leave, sit down, try on the last outfit? I figured I had just a bit more reserve strength left in me, so I started to pull on the jumper, the spaghetti traps of which were sewn to the t-shirt underneath. Couldn't untangle the mess (over-sharing yet?), so finally pulled off crumpled clothes as I dropped to the floor of the dressing room.

Lesson Two: You aren't as resilient as you think you are.

Lesson Three: If you have two choices of what to dress yourself in, and you fear you'll fall over before you finish, chose the more familiar outfit. That way, you'll be in your own clothes when you collapse and need help.

Managed to get my own outfit re-placed onto my person, picked up the "keeper clothes" (not gonna let the trip go to waste), and stepped out. Got the attention of an attendant, and asked for somewhere sit as I announced I was about to faint. Seriously -- my eyes were seeing closing circles (looked like what TV screens used to when you turned them off and the circle of light just smaller & smaller.)

There was a shopping buggy (not grocery cart) with unwanted items from the dressing room. She grabbed the clothes and directed me to sit there. I put my feet up on a trashcan, while someone ran for a wheelchair.

Lesson Four: Get a cart when you go shopping. You know you'll eventually need one.

The salesladies were incredibly helpful and solicitous for my welfare. One got me water, another a wheel chair, another rummaged through the clearance racks to find two items in sizes different from what I had with me in the dressing room. Again, let's not let the trip go to waste.

I drank some water and sat in the cart, then the wheelchair for about 20 minutes. Feeling better, I decided it was time to go home, eat and rest. My pulse was back to normal, the pallor was improved (I was whiter than normal, if you can imagine.) My speech was also clearer (neglected to mention earlier, but I thought I sounded thick-tongued.) Headed for the checkout -- just two folks ahead of me, one lady pulling out her card, so she must be done.

Lesson Five: When you aren't stable, don't stand in the line where the machine breaks down.

Lesson Six: When you aren't feeling well, you will pick the line where the machine is fixing to break down.

After five minutes (the other line wasn't really moving either), I'd begun feeling weak. Not tired, not hypoglycemic, but as if someone was pulling me to the floor. I tried squatting, then stood, then leaned. My turn at the counter arrived just as I saw all the lights go out. My legs gave way as I stepped over to the lawn chair display, leaving my purchases on the conveyor/table (not really sure which one.)

Employees appeared out of nowhere. I'd mentioned to the first set of staff that I had diabetes, so a manager appeared with a Diet Pepsi and PB Nabs. After the line cleared, another rang my purchases and brought me my receipt to sign. The assistant manager stayed with me, and several folks whose shifts were ending, stopped by to see that I was OK. I know that there was certainly the store's interest to look out for, but I really felt that I was being treated as a person, not as a possible lawsuit.

Lesson Seven: Re-hydrating with Diet Pepsi -- liquid good, but excitement and caffeine means you'll be up late enough to write this long post.

So long as I stayed seated, I felt myself improving. After another 20 or so minutes or so of chatting with the Asst. Mgr and eating the Nabs, I knew I'd be able to drive home. Before leaving, I completed a comment card, naming and thanking the employees who had shown such care and been so solicitous for my welfare (used those terms, too.) Wanted to assure myself (& store personnel) that I could think clearly.

Lesson Eight: Gratitude is always good. Expressing it is worth the time taken.

Drove home, heated up some dinner, sat down to eat & call Izzy. Let the very disgruntled, lonely cat go outside for her grass snack (will look for its reappearance later...) Peaked a bit at other people's lives, then sat down to type. I'll head off to bed soon, once I've counted out pills ...

FYI: It never rained here, bringing me to Lesson Nine for tonight: Go home after you donate blood. If you don't go home, go somewhere where you can sit down. Do not go shopping. Driving in a thunderstorm is better than going shopping, at least in this instance.

Bonus Lesson Ten: I've now learned what it means to literally "Shop 'til you drop." I think I'm a pretty quick learner, so I don't think I'll feel the need to try this experience again.