Memories of Brazil

This morning we flew over Rio de Janeiro, flanked between mountains and oceans. It was every bit as beautiful as its reputation. We had breakfast at the Marina All Suites before discovering the beaches of Ipanema...

Lies. All lies. We never made it past the check in counter at SFO. Justin and I had planned a last minute trip to go to Brazil to take advantage of both of us having some time off before we started our new jobs, but unfortunately, the word "visa" never came up. The travel agent we booked with didn't mention it (and it's her job not to assume). And I failed to read the page about travel requirements in the lonely planet. I'm not sure why it just never occurred to me to think about visa requirements. I was more concerned with having enough pen needles, getting a back up meter and figuring out how to keep my extra insulin cold in a tropical climate. I thought the biggest disaster of the the day was going to be forgetting my passport at home before taking off to the airport. I had remembered to bring the electric plug converter, but forgot the most important travel document (along with the visa of course). Fortunately we had enough time to get the super shuttle guy to make another stop for me.

There was slightly more diasaster centering around the really irresponsible and unresponsive travel agent, but this is about as much reviving of raw memories I want to do right now. We weren't incredibly disappointed about our failed trip to Brazil. It was more the embarassment or shame of forgetting such an important part of traveling. The check in attendant wasn't being particularly helpful when she said "No visa??? You guys didn't do your homework." Thanks, we get it now.

I always tend to blame myself when things go wrong. I've traveled enough to know that you need a visa to go to some countries and it's a pain in the ass to apply for one. It usually involves waiting in line at the consulate, handing over forms and passport pictures of yourself, and then waiting in line again to pick it up and pay for it. It should have occurred to me, but it didn't.

This morning, we had a pretty hefty breakfast at Mama's with Justin's friends. I had pancakes smothered in butter, syrup and fresh berries. I had some of Justin's Monte Cristo sandwhich (turkey, ham, cheddar and havarti sandwich fried in egg batter and dipped in homemade huckleberry jam). Fasting blood sugar 114. I gave myself six units of Novolog. I knew we were going to the gym afterwards, but I was eating a lot of carbs. 6 didn't seem like too much. I made it a point to keep my meter and a box of juice with me while I exercised. Normally I just check my blood sugar to make sure it's high enough at the start, but since I knew the insulin was still working, I wanted to be careful. One hour after the meal, BG was 118. Knowing I would probably go low later on if I didn't have something, I started drinking my box of apple juice on the stairmaster figuring that would be plenty helpful to keep it up, especially since I was probably still digesting all that fatty food. After 30 minutes of exercise, sat down on an incline bench to test. Blood sugar was 46. Probably the lowest I've ever measured and I didn't feel it much. Normally a low blood sugar for me feels like I have a headache or I'm nauseous. I guess I should have known to take less insulin knowing I would be exercising, but I didn't.

It was a mistake, another data point for me to learn from. Maybe I should have known and should have done things differently, but I didn't. I have very little to gain by beating myself up for it. As Justin helped me remember at the airport while I was feeling angry at myself, the most important things in my life are still intact.