The first serious low blood sugar
Dear readers, today I bring you a post from the memory vault, a post that invites you into the early days of my type-1 diabetes, a post that is very much centred on diabetes awareness
Dear readers, today I bring you a post from the memory vault, a post that invites you into the early days of my type-1 diabetes, a post that is very much centred on diabetes awareness
Sometimes I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m in the thick of a really great book, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m in the middle of writing a killer sentence, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m climbing down the Eiffel Tower in the twilight hours, and I don’t want to stop Sometimes I’m in the depths of a needed sleep, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m at 8.5 km of a strong 10 km run, and I don’t want to stop. Sometimes I’m hurting with joy, giggling so hard with my boy, and I don’t want to stop. I can see the words on the screen go blurry. I can feel the letters in my book as they punch me in the face with every bounce across the page they make. I can sense the happy flutters in my belly being strangled into sickening …
I should have written every blood sugar reading down. I should have noted my basal rates going in, and my basal rates leaving. I should have kept tabs on my insulin dosages every time I ate, and the foods and activity that accompanied every dose. I should have, but I didn’t. About two months ago, I suggested Big Ring and I go on a four-day getaway within the two-week break between the end of winter semester and the start of summer semester. I’d been going hard with my studies for nearly two straight years; I needed a break, something to free my mind and refresh me before the attack of yet another summer of chemistry hell, er, I mean, awesomeness 😉 It was between San Francisco or Portland. Initially Big Ring was championing for San Francisco as he’d only previously seen it on a day-trip during our Sonoma County/Levi Leipheimer …
For those of you keeping tabs, and thank you so much for doing so, the results of the run vs. sloth week are as follows: Run: 4 Sloth: 0 While I know I am the only one who can truly get me out the door running, it helped HUGE knowing that I’d hear from a few of you if I didn’t. This week could easily have been a one or none kind of running week. There were excuses aplenty to be had: It’s New Year’s. It’s cold. I have no one to run with. I’m tired. It’s raining monsoons. But, your words of encouragement; your words of prodding; and for some of you, your commitment to get out there running with me, either alongside or from afar, meant a world of difference. Seriously, thank you. Four in the pocket for the week is a fantastic way to end my three-week …
Over the years I’ve heard time and time again low blood sugar episodes being compared to inebriation. I’ve never really related to that comment though. Maybe it’s because I’m not on the outside looking in, but rather the person in the moment. Sure, there are a lot of similarities – irrationality, unpredictability, blurred vision, slurred speech, passing out – but drunkeness, at least in the moment, is often viewed as fun, exciting, thrilling. Whereas hypoglycemia, for me, is more akin to full body failure. It can last anywhere from 15 minutes to several hours. My brain in a fog, my eyes desperately trying to catch the words maniacally dancing on the page. A part of me deep inside watches from the sidelines, desperately crying out for help. But the words don’t come out. What does is nothing more than a mumble, or a hate-filled cranky mess. I’ve burst into tears, I’ve thrown …