I was on day four of my site. The longest I had gone with a site so far. Fasting was 275. Ouch. I checked twice just to be sure. Either three days for a site was my limit or I was super nervous about the medical tests I was to undergo later in the day. It could have also had something to do with the ice cream night cap I had the night before, but I'm more inclined to think it was nerves since my two-hour post breakfast reading was just as disgusting.

I don't think that I get too worked up about medical procedures until I'm in the midst of them. That's when I tend to lose it. But this was different. I was having an arthrogram, which is a special x-ray of a joint that includes injecting dye into the joint. No, it doesn't sound like fun. My injection was in my left hip. It's one thing to take a quick injection of insulin in your abdomen, but injecting dye into a joint gives your mind a completely different picture.

So I didn't correct for my hideous post-breakfast reading that morning so I could head off any potential lows. And thankfully. I headed into the x-ray room without my meter or emergency sugar. Don't ask me why; I think nerves and fear can blind us. I felt totally unprepared for what was happening. First, I thought the injection was going to be on the side of my leg, not near my groin. My focus had to shift. And even though I was numb, I could feel pressure and movement inside my hip, which is really unnerving, especially when the doctor wasn't narrating what she was doing. (At one point I said, "Are you poking me?")

I got so rattled that I began to cry and wish The Mr. had come with me (he stayed home with a sick No. 3) so I could squeeze his hand and he could tell me that it's alright. And then the weird feelings started--I think I would have fainted if I weren't already lying down, and I was pretty sure my sugar was crashing. Although I suspected diabetes was written all over my chart, I blurted out, "I feel obligated to tell you I'm diabetic." It's an odd statement looking back.

After I hobbled back to the dressing room, I checked my sugar and was happy to see 150, but still felt lousy enough that I guessed my sugar was dropping fast. I kept sugar with me for the rest of the day, including during the MRI portion of my test. A sleeve of Life Savers in my hand and at least two in my mouth at once were my constant companions.

What is ironic, though, and so like diabetes is what I did the next day. As a sort of follow up to the MRI, I had a bone scan that came complete with an injection. I'm not exactly sure why I didn't ask where the injection was, but I went in assuming the worst. I loaded up on chocolate and other slow-digesting carbs just to head off a potential low from the experience.

When I asked the tech where the injection was going to be, she gave me one of those you-must-be-kidding looks. "In your arm," she said without laughing at me. Oh, thank God! was all I could think. And then, Oh, $%^& how high am I going to be after this?

(In case you're wondering, I have a benign femoral cyst on the ball of my hip joint, for which I can't find an appropriate link for you. According to the bone scan, the cyst is not irritating the tissue around it, so I don't need surgery, just physical therapy every day. For something that hasn't given me the kind of pain and trouble I've had since I got that injection. *sigh* At least I won't be walking around one day totally oblivious and break my hip.)