I truly appreciate and am thankful for my smelly armpits. Now before you think I’ve gone onto another fetish its not that way. See friends and fellow WolfPack Members I as many of you know, have type 2 diabetes. There are times that I don’t have my glucose meter. So I know when my glucose level and A-1-C is off by the way my arm pits smell. If they smell like noodle soup, or such I know my glucose level is normal. If however my armpits, smell sugary or sweet like Koolaid, then I know that my A-1-C is out of whack and my glucose level is too high, thus requiring the ingestion of Metformin and Junuvia. Which eventually stabalizes my blood sugar levels. One of the shortcomings of having diabetes is the reduced flow or at times thickening of the blood in veins. And at times nerve damage. Such nerve damage causes numbness of my feet to where there is no feeling. Likewise the thickening of blood in the veins causes clots, where if not treated immediately can travel to my lungs and heart. This is what happened to my daughter Loraine. Her clot began at her ankles and she thought she had just sprained her ankle. As the day progressed her calves swolled up and less than 10 minutes after arrival at ST. Al’s in Boise she was returned home to our Heavenly Father. It’s a shame that this malady is a inherited trait, in my family. For me such things as eventual blindness, could result, It’s not going to get better, I have the condition and I live with it as best as I can. Which is why I’m mastering my broadcast skills. For when I can’t drive my tow truck LexiBelle any more, for when I can’t fly any more and when I can’t ride Southern Steele (My bike) any more, at least even by feel and such I can still be the voice of towing, military aviation, the biker community and ultimately the voice of today’s Confederacy. Bouncing on my feet and not having any place to once in awhile sit the heck down, started to cause problems. The other day, several times every time I’d stand up from kneeling or unloading a donors vehicle, I got dizzy as could be. I had to steady myself on the clothes bins so I wouldn’t collapse. I also noticed my legs going soft towards the end of shift working on the bailer. I did have every intention yesterday , grief stricken to return to work, but the advanced revelation from Dan my supervisor at DI, saying I was only getting paid for 44 hours, I thought that ain’t enough for me to risk my death. Not at only $7.30 an hour. If I’m going to bust my ass and risk my mortal life, there better be a pay rate of no less than $15.00 an hour and more realisticly $50.00 an hour which is what I’m worth.
So yes I’m appreciative of my smelly armpits because those smelly armpits is the way I know what my sugar levels are so I can stay alive, although these days it really don’t matter much if I am or not.