If you put your hand on my forehead I’m as cold as a mackerel.

It’s Monday evening, and not much has happened here today with the following possible exceptions: 1) Sam got a haircut; 2) Sam went to Wal-Mart for green onions and a jar of green olives; 3) I took an unexpected three-hour nap; and 4) when I woke up my blood sugar had dropped to 42. Holy crap.

With regard to the Wal-Mart trip, green onions and green olives are two of my favorite foods, and this week I want to make my low-carb Spinach and Feta Cheese Casserole, for which green onions are an essential component, and the green olives are just for the hell of it because I love them. Big ones, with red things inside, as pictured below.

Concerning item four above, 42 is an all-time low for me — a scary all-time low — because I didn’t feel weird in any way whatsoever. The only reason I bothered to test my blood sugar was to find out why I was hungry, and I had already been awake for 45 minutes by then.

In case you’re interested, being unable to tell when your blood sugar is too low is a frightening form of autonomic neuropathy, also called “dysautonomia,” which is a dysfunction of the autonomic nervous system frequently found in diabetics. Typically during a hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) episode you would feel like TOTAL CRAP — clammy, confused, dizzy, shaky and STARVING — which can be life-threatening and therefore even worse than the other neuropathy issue I’m experiencing on a daily basis: UNREGULATED BODY TEMPERATURE. At times my temperature is 95° and certifiably hypothermic, which feels like I’m running a high fever — chills, severe joint and muscle pain — except if you put your hand on my forehead I’m as cold as a mackerel.

Please be assured I’m NOT sharing all this whiny horseshit to get your sympathy. I JUST WANT LOTS OF PRESENTS. Thank you in advance for your generosity.

On tonight’s agenda: a nice hot shower, two back-to-back episodes of “Dallas,” and I might even make myself a batch of low-carb biscuits before Sam gets home from work. It’s a full life, isn’t it?