I had a blog over Thursday’s Oprah Fiasco in the works, but after my own fiasco tonight I felt compelled to write on a different topic.
Low blood sugar. It sounds so innocent. Easy to fix, right? Eat some sugar. No big deal. Wrong.
As I arrive at my car after the shopping trip, I lift the big plastic boxes I just bought filled with my other purchases into my car that is obviously too small for the boxes. As I push and shove, I can feel myself getting weaker. I do my normal test before driving. 79. The store is only a few blocks from my home. I munch down a life saver and head out.
As I drive, I know I’m getting lower. I am not sure why Dexcom isn’t alarming me that I am below 80. I make it to my house, but as I get out, my clog shoe is skeward on my foot. I can’t figure out how to fix it and wind up getting my socks muddy.
Because my brain is unclear, I decide it will be best to bring my purchases inside now instead of going in, testing, and eating first. I can’t get them out. The door won’t open far enough because another family member’s vehicle is parked next to me. I walk back around to the drivers seat and pull the car forward, closer to the garage door, with both the passenger side and drivers side door still open and my left leg hanging out. It seems like a good idea at the time.
I actually do get the box to the front door, but I leave it on the porch and go in. I test. 59. I wonder if I had been lower, and the life savers kicked in. All I know is that I feel like my head is swimming. I am talking out loud, speaking everything I think. Poptart, I say as I open the cabinet. Toaster. But why did I toast it? I should have eaten it as it was, but in my low state, I was going to put that pop tart in the toaster. Milk. I knew it was too many carbs. I pourd a cup and a half of milk. That’s about 18 grams of carbs, plus the 35 grams in the pop tart. I knew it was too much, but right then I needed food. And fast.
As I feel myself coming back up, I bolus for the extra carbs. I sit down and relax for a minute. I wonder where I put my phone. I wonder how I hurt my hand. I return to get my boxes from the porch and find my keys in the door and that I only brought one shoe inside. I return to the mud puddle outside and I find the other shoe.
I feel like a differnt person now that my blood sugar is at a normal level. When I’m low, I feel like I have a mental handicap. I literally thought, I feel like a crazy person! during this low. The hardest thing is that all lows are different. Sometimes we drop fast and sometimes we drop very slowly. Tonight was one of my more disorienting nights. Especially because my family had gone to sleep and I was all by myself. The thing was, I wasn’t even that low. Sometimes you can be 30 and feel fine, sometimes you feel like you’re dying at 59.
That’s what Diabetes feels like.