I haven't been having a lot of lows lately since I'm not managing so aggressively. It's been a nice relief and I hadn't even noticed it. Until last night.

Marvin and I went to WalMart then grabbed a late dinner. I wasn't hungry, but I wanted something. A chocolate shake. With curly fries. It's my comfort food and yesterday, my body needed comfort. Hormones.

So I drank my shake and ate my curly fries. Then did 10 units of Humalog. I knew it was about 80 carbs for the shake and probably 30 to 40 for the fries, which would mean about 11 or 12 units of Humalog...cut down by 1 unit for my bedtime routine.

A couple of hours later, I was standing in the bathroom and just felt funny. I wasn't sure if it was the pain that I'd been experiencing off and on all day or fatigue. It was just off. Then I started shaking and feeling weak. I knew.

The meter confirmed: 55. Marvin went to get a Coke while I laid on his bed, feeling like my insides were being swirled like cotton candy on a stick. My hands shook. My thoughts stopped. The world was standing still yet spinning endlessly at the same time.

While I sipped on the Coke, Marvin chatted to me about random things. A project he was going to start, laundry, his graduation present. I tried to respond, to give assent. A "yeah," "uh huh," "how cool" every now and then. I started to feel like a robot. And I wanted to have an opinion.

Words came out of my mouth. I really don't think they were English. A jumbled mess. I had no idea what I was trying to say. Marvin laughed and told me to just drink.

That's the thing I hate about lows. I can handle the shaking and the swirling. But stripping me of my ability to communicate is just wrong. It isn't fair that 55 makes my brain mush. And this wasn't even that bad of a low, comparatively.

I hate the feeling. Yet at the same time, I celebrate last night. As rocky as Marvin and I have been lately, it's still a comfort to know that someone is there. It isn't about getting me a Coke (although I appreciate it). It's about the sitting with me, the understanding. It's about a balance of being involved, yet letting me manage on my own. It's about the fine line between over responsive and under responsive.

Like last week, I was 97 but just feeling really nauseous. And we simply sat in the kitchen while I drank soda and tried to get over my stomach pain. He asked what it felt like, but then continued on a different conversation. He's compassionate and caring.

It's the fact that when I say 97, he knows it's not really low but it's out of the comfortable range. And when I say 55, it's bad. It's the way that I feel comfortable in that state. I don't feel vulnerable or scared. It's just okay.

Lows aren't new to me. And I've had some friends in my past that got the diabetes. But I've never been in a romantic relationship like this. I've never felt that I could be open and understood. I've never known someone to care for me in this way. I never knew I even wanted this. And it's nice to figure it out.