It was literally in an instant that I felt a low, tested and then was blown away from symptoms. I was about two minutes from going downstairs to eat lunch with the other editors in my group.

I found some Skittles and ate a handful, all while my symptoms continued to get worse fast. I knew I was going to have a nasty rebound high, but I continued to eat the Skittles until I thought I was feeling better. I heard the girls get up to go downstairs.

"Are you ready?" D asked as she passed my cube.
"I'll be down in a second," I said knowing there was no way I'd be able to walk yet, much less walk down three flights of stairs.

  (READ MORE)

There was fog when I walked from the parking lot to my office. I thought it was the bright sunshine. Or the warmer temperatures. Or the jacket I was wearing that was making me feel so warm.

I was disconnected, but thought it was from the conversation I had just had with The Mr.

I wanted junk food. Something smooth like chocolate, but not crunchy like cookies. I walked to the vending machine and gently fed it money until it dropped a Milky Way.

Walking up the stairs there was more fog. I thought I was tired, overwhelmed with life issues. I briefly sat at my desk, logged in to my email account. Symlin rushed me to the bathroom, where I lingered longer than usual. Fog.

Washing my hands, I looked in the mirror and it was almost as if I were watching myself on TV. Like I wasn't really there. There was a narrowness to my vision. (READ MORE)

cityofsachse

From the top of a hill overlooking a baseball diamond ,

"I think I'm low."

While playing roller hockey like a Transformer with 15 pounds of equipment ,

"I think I'm low."

While blowing bubbles on the deck ,

"I think I'm low."

From the top of the stairs ,

"I think I'm low."

In the wee hours of the morning while the whole house sleeps ,

"Mom, dad, I think I'm low."

"I think I'm low."
"I think I'm low."
"I think I'm low." (READ MORE)

"Just for the record," I said to The Mr. in bed last night, "apple juice after brushing your teeth is nasty."

He looked at me ready to laugh and then saw me drinking an apple juice juice box.

"Are you low?" he asked.

I nodded while sucking the last of the juice from the box. We were both exhausted and had decided to go to bed early. It was just barely 9:30 p.m. and we were settling in for a snuggle and some TV.

"It's the second time tonight," I said, referring to my after-dinner low of 52. At the time, I had chalked it up to miscalculating carbs at dinner and taking too much insulin. Although, I really thought I hadn't taken enough, especially after my second helping of cheesy potatoes. I was more shocked at the bedtime low, though, since I had treated the dinnertime low with a juice box and then had some ice cream, for which I was certain I hadn't taken enough insulin. (READ MORE)

I was just about to walk out the door this morning when the phone range. Caller ID showed the name of a friend I had planned to call later. It was just before 9 a.m.

"How's The Mr.?" she wanted to know, referring to his recovery effort from Tuesday's surgery to repair an abdominal hernia.

"He's fine," I said. "How's Matt?"

"Oh, you heard?" she said uneasily.

"Yeah, K. told me last night when she dropped No. 1 off after Scouts," I said.

"Blood sugar," she said. "It was 60."

"Oh," I said, feeling relieved that it wasn't the seizure we all thought it was and that this first-grader is prone to. "OH...," I said, my voice getting lower and hinting at sadness and disapointment.

We both know what this low blood sugar might lead to, what it's a sign of. My friend, Matt's mom, is a nurse. She also has type 2 diabetes.

"Maybe it was just a fluke," I said.

Neither of us ever actually said the word 'diabetes.' (READ MORE)