diabetesisfun

I woke up at 103 today. I love to start the day with such a great number. It sets the mood and definitely has an effect on how the rest of the day's numbers go.

Except today. Two hours after breakfast, I checked my blood sugar before heading to my next class. I was 255. I still had more than half of my breakfast bolus remaining, but my pump recommended another couple of units to bring me down. I bolused and drank the rest of the water I had with me.

Almost two hours later, I was 120. I was happy to see the number came down so easily (and happy to know that I could enjoy my lunch). So I bolused for the food I'd eaten (even thinking it was too small of a bolus) and ran some errands.

I didn't think that my errands were that strenuous. I had stayed out of the sun and didn't do too much walking. But when I got home (about two hours after my lunch bolus), I felt that gnawing feeling in my stomach. Could I be low?

As I went to unlock my door and juggled two big bags and a backpack, I noticed that my hands weren't moving quite right. They felt contorted, almost paralyzed. The feeling in my stomach got a little stronger.

I immediately set the bags down and went to the kitchen. I checked my blood sugar. Before the meter even read the number, I grabbed a juice box from the fridge. My hands stiffened. 43 popped up on my meter.

I struggled to get the straw in the juice box. The joints and muscles in my hand couldn't move on their own. I was consciously telling myself how to put the straw in and bring it to my lips.

As I headed to the closest chair, I started shaking. A fog passed over me. Silence inside my head. Emptiness.

Twenty minutes later, I was still shaking. My hands could move at least. The fog was slowly lifting.

I’m still not sure where the high came from and especially unsure of where the low came from. But apparently, that's what 43 feels like.