Wednesday, December 1, 2010

43 and falling

This morning I got up at the usual time. I let the dogs out. I took my insulin. I started the coffee. I put food bowls down. I let the dogs in. I started the laundry. I washed dishes. I got a cup of freshly brewed coffee, lay down beside a still sleeping Kevin, and started planning my day.

I am in a garden. It is small, but very important. Some kind of experiment is in progress. I hear Kevin calling me. I do not want to leave the garden.

Kevin woke up at 7, and discovered me sleeping. I don't remember going back to sleep. I was not sleepy when I lay down. I had no intentions of going back to sleep. I usually snuggle next to him in the morning. I never go back to sleep. It is dangerous for me to take insulin and sleep. The insulin I take every morning is supposed to last 24 hours. It is supposed to give me a steady supply of insulin all day without spiking, peaking, or making my sugar bottom out. But within one hour of taking it my sugar drops. That's why I can't go back to sleep. My doctor wants me to take this insulin BEFORE bed and I refuse. It's too dangerous. This morning my sugar dropped. Because I was asleep I didn't know.

I really didn't know anything was wrong. I didn't remember getting up. Kevin kept telling me I had to call in. I didn't understand why. I thought it was 4:30 and time to get up. I didn't know why I had to call in.

At one point, I was standing in front of the bathroom sink. A hand towel was was laying on the counter. I looked down and thought the towel was snow. The next time I looked, I saw a towel. I wondered where the snow went. I must have stood there for a long time because Kevin pulled me out of the bathroom. Then I lost a few minutes and the next time I looked around I was sitting on the couch and Kevin was giving me his phone, telling me to talk to my boss. I told my boss things were complicated. I told him I didn't know what time it was. He told me the time, then he started asking me other things which I couldn't comprehend. Kevin took the phone away. He told my boss I was having a low sugar. That was when I realized I was in trouble.

Kevin tested my sugar. 43. If I fall into the 30's I am practically in a coma.  He fed me a brownie which made me feel like more like myself. Kevin saved my life. Again. If Kevin hadn't been home I would still be in the garden.


Living in Muddy Waters said...

Can they put you on a pump?

FreeDragon said...

I've refused the pump because putting my life in the hands of a machine makes me nervous. If I can't control my illness myself, I would consider it. But it would be an absolute last resort for me. My cousin is also a type 1 diabetic. She has a pump. It malfunctioned. When the EMT's tested her sugar it was 12. She had no warning that anything was wrong with her pump. It simply stopped working. My landlord is also diabetic. He has a pump and he still wakes up in the middle of the night with low sugars. The pump might make life a little easier, but I don't think it's the be all and end all.