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.  

What I Learned About Afrezza

At the end of April, I attended a meeting with Mannkind, the company who manufactures the inhaled insulin, Afrezza, with a small group of Diabetes Advocates and .Orgs at their HQ in Danbury, Connecticut. There we had the opportunity to meet with senior members of the company, including engineers and scientists and discuss Afrezza and Social Media.

I went in not knowing much about Afrezza, but was curious to learn all I could. 

I have friends (both on the pump and MDI,) who are fiercely loyal to Afrezza and I’d tried it once with positive results - more on that later. 

I went in with an open mind and hoping for another diabetes option for us.

Here’s what I found out. 

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Afrezza is a crystallized, inhaled, powdered form of Regular insulin that works quickly via the lungs and the bloodstream and is used for mealtime dosing.

Afrezza works fast - as in wicked fast. As in it starts working in 3 to 7 minutes, reaches its peak in 30 minutes, and out of your system within 1 to 2 hours. 

Basically, the short time in the system helps to prevent low blood sugar hangovers - my words, not Afrezza’s. 

Other short acting insulins (Apidra Novolog, Humalog), take 20 plus minutes before they start to kick in.

WHY? Because being injected through skin has a slower turnaround time than inhaling.

Injectable insulins peak in 2 hours and exit the body somewhere between 4 and 7 hours.

As far as the Billing Code, Afrezza uses the same billing code as an insulin pump - so check your Durable Medical Equipment clauses in your insurance policy. 

FYI: Exercise activates Afrezza.

Clinical Trials

Clinical trials for Afrezza have shown no evidence of long term lung 

damage to patients. Our group was told that the reason why people have lung tests be
fore starting Afrezza is to rule out any unknown/underlying lung issues like COPD. 

Bitch Lows and preventing them 
Afrezza has been shown to reduce severe hypos by more than 30%. THAT"S BIG.

Dosing: Afrezza inhalable insulins are currently available in packs of 4, 8,12. 
Afrezza’s unit amounts differ from injectable insulin units -HealthCare Pro's help 
with the learning curve.

Friends who use Afrezza say it wasn’t difficult to get with the Afrezza program.

User Breakdown

Afrezza users are evenly divided into type1s - some of whom combine Afrezza with 

using their insulin pump. Using their pump for basal rates/correction boluses and 
dosing Afrezza for meals.  

The other 50% are type 2s.
Some users on both sides of the diabetes fence have experienced weight loss. 

Sidebar: There is currently no info re: LADA1.5 users at this time.

Is there a Patient Assistance Program? 

YEP. Go to Mannkind Cares Start Out Program and here's the link to the Patient Savings Card. https://www.activatethecard.com/afrezza7354/#

My Own Experience with Afrezza

My one experience with Afrezza was 3 years ago and it was a positive one. 

I was attending the Diabetes UnConference in Atlantic City and was out with some Diabetes Online Community friends who came to town early the night before the conference began. 

After copious amounts of Crab Nachos and bolusing multiple times - I could tell something was wrong. My numbers kept going up - even with an increased temporary basal rate of 40%. 
It turned out that my Medtronic infusion site had crapped out.

I had another infusion set with me, but low and behold that new site didn’t work either.

Yep, I was screwed. My blood sugar was well over 300 and I felt it.

I had two choices: Go back to the hotel a few miles down the boardwalk and change out my site, or take my friend M’s advice and try his 4 unit Afrezza and inhaler.  

I went with the Afrezza, inhaled, and 2.5 hours later (plus 1/4 of a turkey club,) my blood sugar was 167 - and I was happy.  

Closing Thoughts

I was impressed with what I learned about Afrezza, and while I don't want to give up my Omnipod, I would consider using Afrezza with my Omnipod therapy - and I'm going to discuss that with my Endo at my next appointment.

Also: Your diabetes is different from mine and collectively, people with diabetes need as many viable and beneficial diabetes options on the table as we can get!
Afrezza is an option. 

Disclosure – My expenses including travel, food, and lodging were covered by Mannkind,  and I was paid an honorarium - which I appreciated. 

With that being said, all thoughts are my own and I was not asked to write about Afrezza - but I did because I wanted to share what I learned with you - and now you know ~ 

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. 

Diabetes, Waiting Out A Low Blood Sugar And Recalling The First 3 Circles of Hell

I originally published this post on February 19th, 2013. 
Had a nasty low blood sugar of 44 at 3:29 a.m. this morning that woke me up from a restless sleep. I waited it out, drained my bottle of juice and all sorts of weird shit went through my head while I waited for normal to return.

This post from 2013 has been on my mind since breakfast. Hope you can relate. 
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Every now and then weird shit pops into my mind, whether it's a commercial jingle from back in the day, an obscure movie reference, or facts I wasn't even aware I'd remembered or actually knew - until they popped out of my mouth.
Durning my low blood sugar last night, long ago facts from a college List class popped into this List major's head and made for some interesting D analogies. 
And even though it's a strange pairing at first glance - I think it actually makes sense. 
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You know when your blood sugar's low right before you start to make dinner so you drink some juice and then you try your best to "wait it out,"  because you don't want to ruin your dinner?

But "waiting it out" doesn't work so you eat saltines with peanut butter & strawberry jam, because you live  by yourself and you're self sufficient, and you want to stay alive & this particular low makes you feel vulnerable in all all of the above areas.

But even with waiting, your blood sugar feels like it's still in the 3rd Circle of Hell, where according to Dante, the gluttons are punished by lying in a vile freezing slush and are guarded by a 3 headed hound named Ceberus - think Fluffy from Harry Potter. 

Which actually makes sense -  because I do feel like I’m being punished for my insatiable hunger - And I’m starting to break into a cold sweat. 

And then I wonder out loud: Why the hell am I remembering Dante’s Circles of Hell at a time like this?  

Seriously, WTF?

Why does my brain remember such obscure facts at the weirdest and most inopportune of times? I don’t get it.

I don't know, maybe my brain pulls out long forgotten facts to take my mind off moments that are scary. 

I’ve left Hell's Third Circle and some how I've made it to the 2 Circle of Hell, where the "lustful souls are tossed about in a violent storm without any hope for rest." 

And again, this actually makes sense because I feel battered and like this stormy low is never ending.

I feel like my blood sugar will never go up and shove more peanut butter and jam covered saltines in my mouth because my lips are numb & I know that's not a good thing. 

I try and wait the low out and I sit at my computer and type what’s happening and what’s going through my head and for the life of my I can't believe that in this low blood sugar haze I’m thinking about Dante’s Inferno.

I didn’t even get an A in that class - I think I got a B, and honestly, I haven’t thought about that class since I took it!

I still think about my John Milton class from time to time - I did my Major Authors paper on Paradise Lost - And got a B in that class - And I remember being really happy about that because if anyone had told me that I would spend an entire semester studying and writing about John Milton and getting a B in the class, I wouldn't have believed them.... But I digress. 

Which leads me to Limbo - Dante's First Circle of Hell - that's where I am right now - In limbo - where Dante says the unbaptized & virtuous pagans live. 

And at this moment I really can relate to those virtuous pagans - I am one of them after all. Right now I’m praying to the Diabetes Gods to bring my blood sugar back up from the beneath surface so I can breath again. 

And now I've come up for air... I feel better and sick all rolled into one. 
My blood sugar has gone up fast, too fast for comfort. It’s gone up from 62 to 90 and then 25 minutes later ( and an hour and 10 minutes after the low) it’s now 164.

I'm tired and do a correction bolus, my head hurts and my dinner plans of a roast beef sandwich on Esekiel bread with Pacific Hearty Tomato soup & and broccoli sautéed in olive oil and garlic will have to wait for another night. 

I have a headache and my stomach is full and I feel terrible. 

This low has left me tired and little teary eyed and I’m annoyed at my body in all its dimensions. 

Next time my blood sugar drops I hope my brain recalls something more pleasant - Dante & his 9 Circles of Hell are total downers - even if you're only recalling the first 3.

So.... Any weird facts or memories float through your mind during a low or high blood sugar haze?  

Diabetes & A 49 Blood Sugar That Sneaks Up Like A Bitch Ninja

It was a morning of trying to plow through, 
taking notes for an article I'm working on, two deadlines looming on the calendar, and doing my best to stop the Graham Cassidy insanity from happening. 
Focusing on getting shit accomplished. 
And out of nowhere, I suddenly felt shaky and tingly all rolled into one. 
I was sweaty and hungry and I didn't feel so steady on my feet. 
Diabetes had snuck up on me like a bitch Ninja and I was dropping fast. 
Status: Threat level Hot Mess, with a blood sugar of 49. 
I grabbed a juice-box, sucked it down, and immediately sucked down a second.
10 minutes went by and I ate 7 Swedish fish from the movie size box in my computer bag. 
The box of Swedish Fish I bought for 99 cents and on sale last week - and I don't even know why I'm mentioning that, but I am. 
Sidebar: Swedish Fish are now much smaller than they used to be. WEIRD. 
5 minutes earlier I was sitting at my computer and everything was fine.

Now? Not so much. 
I did my best not to overeat - easier said then done.
I watched the clock and tried my best to wait before treating again.   
20 minutes later my blood sugar was 95 and I let out a deep breath.
I fiddled with the InstaMessage App for a few, (see above pic,) and 15 minutes later I checked my blood sugar again. 
I was 142. 
A small correction bolus was given - what had gone dangerously low, was now on its way towards the cheap seats. 
Current Status: Blood sugar is172 with 1 unit of IOB. 
Pod PDM suggests I give myself a 0.30 correction. 
For now I'm holding off. 
Back to work - but a quick blog post because this is life with diabetes - and I continue to plow through. 

Diabetes: 3 Nights Of Bitch Lows In A Row

Because when multiple nights of middle of the night Blood sugar bitch lows happen - 
and I am reminded once again that diabetes is indeed a fickle bitch and being prepared isn't just for boy scouts. 
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There were three nights in a row last week when severe lows had me sleeping with, and drinking from a 48 ounce bottle of Apple and Eve’s Apple juice by my bed.
I was out of juice boxes and after stumbling to the kitchen the first night, I improvised and made sure I was prepared. 
3 nights of sweat stained sheets sans the kind of fun I would prefer when it comes to sweating between the sheets. 
3 nights of thinking WTF. 
Three nights of doing my best to breathe deep, and remain calm. 
3 nights of consistently lowering temp basal rates.
1 night of thinking that my blood sugar might not actually ever come up.
3 morning where morning came to quickly and not quick enough and all rolled into one.
3 mornings where coffee was key. 
1 morning of waking up with a crazy high rebound, 2 mornings of waking up to textbook blood sugars and being surprised.
2 mornings waking with the meter next to my head.
1 morning of looking down and seeing my meter sticking out from under my bed.

On the fourth night everything was fine and the crazy lows left.
Still, I slept with a bottle juice by my bed for the rest of the week - because it made me feel better. 
3 nights of lows in a row doesn’t happen to me often, but when it does... it does... and reminds me that I always have to make sure I'm covered. 
There’s the less than pleasant bottle of orange glucose tabs in my driver side car door holder (I don’t know the technical motor-head name for it, but I’m calling it a car door holder,) that stays there in case I run out of my preferred Tropical Fruit, glucose stash I keep in my second car cup holder. 
There are those moments when I see movie size SweeTarts or Mike&Ike's on sale and buy them - hoping that I won’t need them to treat a low, but always relieved when I find them in the pantry during one. 
My suitcase always has a ziplock back filled with 3 infusion sets and 3 reservoirs, and my travel toiletry case always has an extra box of test strips and lancets - just in case something happens to my carry-on traveling pharmacy of diabetes supplies. 

I make sure I know where the gift shop and vending machines are in every hotel I stay in - and I boy a bottle juice for my the night stand in my hotel room - just in case. 

Same goes for always carrying a spare infusion set and KIND bar in my handbag  - because you never know. 

We make adaptions to our world when it comes to living with diabetes and being prepared.
Being prepared helps us to be independent, it it seems like it’s second nature and it makes us feel safe - until a crazy low (or a stubborn high,) leaves us sweating and scared. 
Waiting those 15 minutes for 15 carbs to kick in seems like the longest 15 minutes in the world because they are. 
But we do it - and we keep plowing through life and we get back up after the lows and the highs because we are resilient.   

We take the Boy’s Scouts motto to heart and make it our own - and we do our best to be prepared - and we keep praying that we will continue to get back on and plow through. 

Tonight I'll buy a couple of 48 ounce bottles of juice, a pack of juice-boxes, and a couple of bottles of glucose tabs, because I’m going away on Thursday and won’t be back until Sunday and don’t want to come home to a fridge without juice, a pantry with out juice-boxes, and a nightstand or carry-on sans glucose tabs. 

What about you? 

Life Isn't Perfect & Diabetes Is A Fickle Bitch

This past Friday through Monday morning, my diabetes not only behaved, it was damn near perfect. Perfect numbers to match a perfect last summer weekend. 
NEWSFLASH: Life isn’t perfect and diabetes is a fickle bitch. 

Monday morning started simply enough. I woke up with a 140 blood sugar an 9 units left  of insulin in my reservoir. I put in a fresh reservoir, bolused for and drank some coffee, then headed out to get my gentle stretch yoga on. 
2 hours later I walked in the house with a blood sugar of 95 and feeling all types of groovy. 

And then slowly, like the amusement ride called Free Fall, a ride I loved and feared as a child and despise as an adult, my numbers started to rise and wouldn’t come down. 
120 - no big deal. 150 - I’d just had lunch so that was cool. 200, 190, 233, 250, 200,249, 270, all the way up to 293. 
No last day of summer fun for me - and no matter how many correction boluses I did or new infusions sites I put in (two,) my numbers wouldn’t budge.

My numbers were shit and I felt terrible. I ate few crackers and a slice of cheese for dinner and drank club soda for the rest of night. 
At 11 pm, I called it a day, and only after my blood sugar had fallen from 290 to 240 and I felt safe to go to bed. 
I woke up at 1:26 am with a filled bladder and a blood sugar of 226. 
I gave myself a correction bolus of 1.7 units, peed like a race horse and went back to bed. 

I woke up at 6:45 am, Tuesday with 20 units lift in my reservoir and a 247 blood sugar. 
I changed out my site again and switched out my reservoir for yet another new one - eating the 20 units of precious insulin in the process. 
I bolused for a cup of coffee and a correction, showered and left the house with a blood sugar of 199. 
I ate a protein bar and went about my business  - I had a busy week and quite frankly, 
I needed to get shit done. 
And I was getting shit done - until 11ish am, when my blood sugar started to fall fast and once again mimicking that damn Free Fall. Except instead of rising to the heavens, my Diabetes Free Fall ride was crashing fast and heading to hell and I couldn’t keep up with it. 
I’d just left Staples and was shoving a kindbar in my mouth, trying to prevent the crash and it wasn't kicking in fast enough, for my liking. 
I made it to my car and sat in the drivers seat, phone in one hand, glucose tabs in another, meter next to me - and tried to remain calm. 
My meter said I was 65, but I knew I wasn’t. I was sweating and shaking. I stared at the medical ID bracelet on my wrist and I was grateful - If something were to happen, at least they’d know I had diabetes. 

5 glucose tabs later. I got out of my car and walked to the Pizza shop next to the Staples. 
I felt unsteady on my feet - and as I pulled the handle on the door, I felt my body tilt to one side - a weird slow tilt - and for a split second, the door handle suddenly looked sideways. I walked through the door, went to the drink fridge. grabbed a Nantucket Lemonade and started to drink it. I went to the cashier, gave her the three dollars without blinking an eye or uttering a word. I was starting to feel like myself again - a tired, sweaty version of myself. 
I sat in my car for another 25 minutes, taking little sips of lemonade - at 55 grams of carbs I didn’t want to gulp the bottle down and deal with high blood sugars later.  
Finally, I put the key in the ignition when my meter flashed 91 on the screen. 
And as I was driving I started to cry. 

I cried because I was angry and frustrated and I cried because for the first time in a long time, diabetes had kicked me so damn hard I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back up. 
When I got home, I sat at my desk and tried my best to get on with my day - but the feeling of diabetes defeat wouldn’t leave my side. I chatted briefly online with a few doc friends about it -but kept the fact that I’d been so scared to myself. 
My numbers didn’t go above 150 for the rest of the afternoon. And at 4pm, I shut my laptop down, called it a day, crawled into bed and took a nap. 
 And for most of last night, I kept thinking about diabetes getting the best of me. 
I kept telling myself that THIS wasn’t a daily occurrence and that we, every single person living with diabetes, have days like this - and I know that to be true. 

Each of us have days and moments where diabetes does get the best of us - And I needed to accept that - and I usually do. 
But for some reason, it was really hard to accept this time... because I don’t want diabetes to get the best of me - I don’t want diabetes to fucking win.
I don’t want diabetes to have the upper hand. I don't want diabetes to take moments and any more people away from me who I love, and I don’t want diabetes to take me away from the people I love or the life I want to live. 

And every once in a while - after something like this happens, deep down inside I'm afraid that diabetes will.

 The past 24 hours with diabetes had been a rough ride. Now, the ride was over, the park was closed and I'm glad to get on with the business of living.

And today? Today is going really well. Today is going great~ 

Bitch Low: The Aftermath

Tuesday night around 6:40ish I crawled into my bed because I felt like I’d just been run over by a truck. 

I was exhausted and tired and if I could have gone to bed for the rest of the night right then and there, I would have. Of course I couldn’t, because who the hell goes to bed at 20 minutes to seven? Not this girl! 

I curled up under the covers, closed my eyes, tried to chill and thought about the “why.”  

1.5 hours earlier, while on the phone, I had what I can only describe as a Bitch Low. 

One of those lows that literally comes out of nowhere, beats you up and leaves you feeling like you’ve been physically and mentally beat up in its wake.

As the person on the other end of the phone talked, the familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach that strikes me just as my blood sugar plummets, made itself known and I started to sweat. 

I looked around for something quiet to eat, because I didn’t want chew and crunch into the phone. 

I should have just ended the phone call, but I didn’t. 

OK, I refused to end the call. I didn’t want diabetes or the Bitch Low to win. 

I spied glucose tabs in my handbag, but they were too crunchy. 

Right next to the glucose tabs were three fun size, 3 Musketeers bars in a ziplock bag. 

Fluffy, chocolately and 3  bars equaled 34 carbs. Yep, I could work with that.    

I wolfed each bar in less than 3 bites, poured myself a few shots of juice and watched the minutes tick by, and all while doing my damnedest to participate in the phone conversation.  

Finally I said something like,"Well, I’ll let you go....,"  and ended the call. 

Then I made a beeline for the kitchen and downed two tablespoons of honey, followed by vanilla almond milk. 

 I was eating like there was no tomorrow because even though I didn’t check my blood sugar, I knew it was a really low one.

20 minutes later my blood sugar was 90 and still felt wobbly. Cut to an hour later when my blood sugar was 138 and I was wiped out.  

I’d had plans of making a good dinner, but the thought of actually doing anything was no longer appealing -  and I wasn’t hungry. 

Bitch Lows don’t happen to me very often and I’m incredibly grateful for that, because I hate them. I hate how drained I feel after. And I'm glad this one occurred at home.  
And while it knocked me down, it hadn't knocked me out. 

I was beginning to drift off, when my phone rang a little after 7. 

I was still feeling spacey and tired but I was happy to see a familiar name flash on the screen, so I picked up and said hello. 

My blood sugar was holding study at 143 and whileI was still a little rough for the wear, I'd won this round. 

Diabetes Bitch: 2

Bitch Low: 1