Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday night was not usual. Sunday night was damn scary.
Much of it is very foggy. I remember sitting in bed with my pump and meter. I couldn't quite figure out what my pump was. I kept turning it over and around, trying to figure out which end was the top and which was the bottom. I kept pressing buttons but none of the screens made sense. I also didn't know how to turn on my meter or what it was supposed to do. Pete was wide awake beside me, telling me it was okay and I should drink my juice. I told him I couldn't, but thank goodness I drank it anyway. He said I kept saying I didn't know what happens next. I think I resisted drinking the juice because even though I was confused I knew that I generally stay away from juice because it raises my blood sugar. I also think when I kept saying I didn't know what happens next I was trying to say that I knew I had to punch the carbs from the juice into my pump and bolus but I couldn't figure out how to do it. Out of frustration, I kept begging Pete to show me how to work the buttons. He calmly told me he didn't know how and that I should just relax and drink the juice.
I remember I kept disconnecting my pump because I didn't know how to work it. Then I would reconnect it because I knew I'm always supposed to wear it. Pete ran downstairs and got a spoonful of frosting for me to eat. I suddenly decided I had to check my blood. Pete said it was a bit soon to test again but to go ahead and do it anyway. Some how I managed to remember how to work the meter. The screen flashed 33. Somewhere in my mind, that number seemed familiar. I guess I was starting to come out of the fog, because I asked for another juice box.
After I downed that, things really started to clear up. I could remember how to work my pump as well as my meter. According to Pete, I had woken him up and told him I needed help. (Thank goodness for that!!) According to my CGM log, my low alarm went off at 10:51 telling me I was 55. It rang again at 11:12 to say I was 41. At 11:31 it reported that I was below 40. I don't remember hearing or clearing any of those alarms - I just remember dreaming about being on Cape Cod. According to my meter, I tested my blood sugar at 11:35 and it was 33. That's why the number 33 seemed familiar when I did the second test at 11:46 and was still at 33.
Once the fog cleared, I realized I was soaked with sweat. The chills hit hard and my teeth started chattering. I was pretty freaked out by what had just happened. I felt terrible for disrupting Pete's sleep on a work night and for frightening him so badly with my incoherent ramblings. At midnight we tested again and I was up to 49, and three hours later I was 172.
I can't tell you how lucky and blessed I feel that Pete was there. I am so proud of how calm he stayed through the whole thing. He held it together and did everything right. He was *thisclose* to calling for an ambulance when the fog cleared and I started making sense again. I can't imagine how scary the whole thing was for him.
Yesterday I was wiped out and freaked out all day long. Pete called me several times more than he usually does to check on me. Every time I heard his voice, I started to cry. From gratitude for what a wonderful care-giver he is. From guilt for putting him through such a terrifying situation in the middle of the night. From pure exhaustion that made me more emotional than usual.
I've always handled low numbers well. A few weeks ago I woke up with a blood sugar below 20. I know, because I tested three times to confirm. 13, 19, 16 were the numbers my meter reported back. I was sweaty, but clear-headed and otherwise fine. I drank juice and petted the cat until my blood sugar went back up to 83. Then I went back to sleep. Easy as pie - which would have come in handy with a blood sugar below 20!!
Why was that 33 so terrible and that 19 no problem? Who knows? Maybe The Big D was cranky Sunday night. It's been around 20 years since I've had a low that left me so out of it. I honestly hope it's 20 more before the next Scary Low.