I wake up and my husband is leaning over my legs. He has a giant needle in his hand and the sharp tip is pushing against my thigh, almost breaking the skin.
“NO!” I scream.
This wasn’t a nightmare. This was my reality last night.
He said I woke up because I was annoyed that I was sleeping in a pool of my own sweat. He asked me if I had checked my blood sugar and I told him yes, a blatant lie. He asked me what it was. I didn’t know. This is when he took over.
He checked my blood sugar, I was 38. I was just thinking the other day how wonderful it was that I hadn’t seen a number in the 20’s or 30’s in quite a while. Streak ruined.
He said I was confused, and I was twitching.. like I do right before I go into a seizure. I wasn’t making sense. I guess I was also taking a stance against drinking my juice, too. I do sometimes get combative when I’m low, when I’m not giddy like a drunk. When he saw the twitching is probably when he grabbed the glucagon. When he tried to inject it is when I finally became vaguely aware of what was going on.
All in all, I drank three glasses of Simply Apple apple juice, each worth about 25 grams of carbs. I came up very, very slowly. 48 mg/dl 6 minutes later, 57 mg/dl 15 minutes later, 83 mg/dl 30 minutes later. Around two hours into the ordeal, I was finally at 117. Before I hit normal range, though, I gladly consumed a peanut butter bar, an ice cream sandwich (I needed something to cool my sweaty body), and a few kale and black bean tortilla chips (I have an obsession with tortilla chips when I’m low, which normally results in being high).
7:32am: 348 mg/dl. I took two units over a half hour once I got back in the 80’s. After everything I consumed, though, of course I got high. I had the low munchies. It’s unarguably a condition.
My point in all this? To get it off my chest. Today I’m scared. I’m tired (and continuing to get more tired). I’m emotional.. because lows like this always come full of guilt for me. Guilt that I had a brush with not waking up. Guilt that this happened at all. Guilt that John had to go through this and carry me through the night.
The guilt will subside and I will catch back up on sleep. I need to be thankful that John was there to help me (with zero complaints, ever, about anything, by the way. He’s amazing.), and was able to quickly mix up the glucagon, just in case.
Also, this shall serve as a reminder to get a new glucagon kit, stat.