kathryn ratcliffe-lee

i went to a work event tonight, but left my bag at the office. the event was less than a block away, simply on the west side of the avenue, at a bar. i planned on going back to the office after the event wrapped, to schlep back leftover totes and books and pick up my bag, change my shoes, etc. everything went well, and we even extended the party from 9 to 10 pm, since no one was in a hurry to leave. mary reminded me when it was getting close to 10 that i should leave, but i wasn’t in any particular hurry since my next bus wouldn’t come until 11.

but then i found out that my office locks up at 10. the doors go automatic, and the guy in the lobby said no one was in the building who could let me up. you can leave whenever (i’ve stayed till a little before midnight before), but you can’t get in after 10. the guy in the lobby ignored me while i freaked out, muttering “fuck” over and over and tweeting about it from the wrong account.

i’m home now. i’m dumb/lucky enough to have my license, bus pass, and phone together in one place so i could get home, but it’s how i got home that was scary: without…anything. i had a different tote with me, but all that was in it was books. no insulin, no glucose meter, no glucose tablets, no money, no car keys, no umbrella, no headphones. i would reach for all of these things multiple times during my trip home and then stop myself. i felt naked, vulnerable, and stupid.

i don’t actually test my blood sugar as much as i should (and thus rely heavily on glucose tablets for sudden lows), but the moment i couldn’t, the moment i didn’t have access to my meter, that’s all i wanted to do. that’s all i needed to do. all of a sudden i couldn’t read my body, whether i was sweating from the weather or a low, whether my calves were cramping from my work shoes or a dehydrating high. i had to think about when i last peed, to make the best guess of my level. the two hours it took me to get home were terrifying because i had lost the sense of control of my body.

how stupid. stupid stupid stupid.

i was nervous about being summoned in a very general “i don’t know how to juror” way, but as the day progressed and we got closer to being selected for the trial, i realized i was just scared about having the statements, “i’m twenty-five years old,” and “i live with my parents,” on court record.