Diabetes: A Bitch Low Blood Sugar - And Waiting It Out At The Deli

I stood at the convince store/deli counter, clutching it with one hand and holding/downing a Nantucket Nectar Lemonade with the other. 

I'm sweaty and it feels like my whole body is shaking  — but I'm not sure.

I need to focus on drinking the lemonade and staying calm, so I do. 

The bitchlow had come out of nowhere  — and I was dropping fast. I’d been walking on the main street of my town when I broke out into a cold sweat — and right near the deli.

The register was on the other end of the circular counter and the woman behind the register watched me. 

I struggled to find my words and finally said: I’m sorry, but my blood sugar is low, I need to drink this now.

I was out of breath and as I spoke and my words didn’t tumble out of my mouth — my speech cadence was slower than normal and my mouth was numb. 

The woman walked over to where I was standing and said: It’s OK, I have diabetes, I know exactly how you feel. Sit at a table and pay me when you feel better — and let me know if you need food. 

And that’s what I did. 

I sat quietly at a table and watched the clock on the wall as the minutes ticked by. 

I finished three quarters of the bottle and waited until I felt stronger. 

I ran my hands through my hair out of habit and I felt the tears stinging my eyes.

I’ve noticed that when I get a bitch low that stops me in my tracks, I end up fighting back tears. 

My face is pale during the low, but as my blood sugar starts to come up, my eyes start to sting, and I can feel my checks turn red. 

I think part of my tears are due to the fact that I've  fought so hard to stay in control during the low, that an emotional wave of relief floods over me as things start slowly shifting back to normal and my eyes start to swell - and the other part is diabetes and my body's reaction.

And I hate this feeling. 

I hate feeling that if I don’t drink or eat I will crash to the ground. 

I hate that my words are halted and that I feel weak.

I hate that I am on the verge of tears. 

I hate feeling helpless, weak, scared, and determined all rolled into one.

I hate feeling alone. 

But for this particular blood sugar, I am incredibly grateful that I have a place to wait it out — and a person who watching from the sidelines. 

I glance at my medical ID bracelet and I feel myself calming down. 

I check my blood sugar at the twenty minute mark - I’m 83. 

Even thought the juice was over 60 grams of carbs, I decide to finish the bottle, wait another five minutes and then went up to pay the woman behind the register. 

She looked at me and said: Feel better, honey?? 

 I told her I did and thanked her for letting my pay after things settled down  and for “getting it.” 

She doesn’t want to take the money and I insist she does. 

I say goodbye, walked down the block to my car, get in and sit for a bit. 
Tears are streaming down my face at this point and I'm glad I'm wearing my prescription sunglasses. 

I’m home 10 minutes later and 50 minutes after that I check my blood sugar again. 

I am 116. And at that moment I am glad I drank that whole damn bottle.

And I breathe deep, walk to the bathroom and look in the mirror. 

I am a hot fucking mess - and not in the good way.

Mascara running down my eyes, tears stained cheeks, and I look a sad. 

I wash my face, and say THANK-YOU out loud. . 

And I mean it. I am thankful that lows like that don’t happen very often, and I am thankful that I'm OK.

Then I smile at my reflection and forge ahead.... towards the couch. 

Dinner can wait, for now I'm going to chill.