Low Blood Sugar Haze, With Coffee And Lemonade.

Lows are sneaky. YES, I always keep juice boxes/glucose tabs by my bed. 
Sometimes I run out of juice boxes. This would be one of those times.
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I woke up in the middle of the night a few weeks back with a "LOW, low."

Bolted upright; stumbled out of bed, through the hallway and into the kitchen. 

I immediately flipped on the light and turned on the coffee maker ( I always pre-fill both the coffee filter and water the night before,) because in my low blood sugar haze, 
I thought it was time to get up — which it was - at least as far as diabetes was concerned.

Then straight to the fridge. Open door, grab/open lemonade, gulping it down and crazy fast. Acutely aware of the desperate “glug, glug, glug, glug," that only those of us who have tried to raise a low bg quick and by drinking juice lightening fast, understand. 

BRAIN FREEZE from drinking cold lemonade too fast. 

Pour more into a 4 ounce glass from my cupboard, filling and draining twice.

“EAT 15, WAIT 15, EAT 15 WAIT 15,” plays on repeat in my head. 

The glucose meter flashes the number 52 on the screen. 

And that would be the exact moment when I smelled coffee and heard a faint hiss. 
OK, more like an extended drip. 

The coffee maker was indeed making coffee. 

I shook my head, turnoff hissing coffee maker, and wonder out loud if I’d have to toss the grounds. 

Maybe I could just… you know… turn it back on in a few hours... starting it right back up and where it left off. 

Like I do when my blood sugar drops. I stop and put "Kelly in real time" on pause, stop what I’m doing and treat… until I can switch back on… hopefully within few minutes later and right where I’d left off. 

Sitting on my kitchen bar-stool, I glare at my coffee maker and snarl: WELL THAT WAS A WEIRD NEW MOVE. 

And that "weird new move," really fucking bothered me.

It bothered me that I’d thought it was morning — which of course.. it technically it was — and it bugged the hell out of me that I thought it was 6:40 in the morning when it was actually 
4 am.

Sidebar: I can see the street lamp from my bedroom window when I get out of bed at night - I'm thinking that might have added to the whole, "me thinking it was morning," thing. 

It bothered me that I’d just wasted 3 tablespoons of Starbucks Breakfast Blend - that shit’s not cheap. 

It bothered me that I had a 9 a.m. breakfast meeting and needed to be at my best and would most likely be dealing with a low blood sugar hangover when my alarm went off in a few hours. 

The whole thing bothered me. I live by myself - I'm my go-to person for low blood sugars.  
I don't wear a CGM. 
  

I kept staring at the coffee maker until I thought I'd burn a hole through it. 

20 minutes later and starting to feeling human again. Blood sugar is 65. 
Heading in the right direction and feeling better. I grab the bottle of lemonade off the counter, taking one last, long, gulp. 
Put the cap back on tight (but still allowing for quick access,) and take meter and lemonade back to my room. 

I stretch out on my bed, turning over on my right side and place the bottle carefully on the floor. I run my left arm over the side of and reach my arm out into the dark - my hand brushes the neck of the bottle. 

I let out a sigh. If needed, safety is within arms reach and at my fingertips.

15 minutes and one last check. #Bgnow 82.

I don't remember falling asleep.

But I do remember waking up. It sucked. 

6:40 a.m. The church bell sounding alarm on my iPhone blares.
I hit mute and spy the bottle of lemonade on the floor... next to my bed... exactly where I’d left it. 

Back in the kitchen, flip open the top the coffee maker and stare down the filter. 

Yeah, there was no way I could “just turn it back on.” 

Dump the contents and start from scratch and adding a much needed extra cup. 

While it's brewing I check - blood sugar is 224. 
I give myself a combo correction/extended coffee bolus and utter: That number could have been worse. 
And in the quiet part of my brain I share with no one - I whisper internally: Actually, the whole thing could have been worse. 

I run my hands through my hair and spend a few minutes thinking about CGMs, while waiting for the coffee maker to do its thing. 

I make a cup of coffee and it is gone in 3 gulps. 
I pour another and head towards the shower. 

I arrive at my 9 a.m. breakfast on-time. I am my charming self. 

No Joke: I FUCKING SPARKLED. 

Because that’s what people with diabetes do — we fucking sparkle through the muck- we do our best and we make it look easy — most of the time and even when it isn’t.

Because we are tenacious, we are tired, and we don’t have a choice.

And at the end of that long day, I go to bed early because I need to sleep.