~Molz~

Why is it that I can remain much calmer than those around me when it comes to diabetes? I can manage a low with ease, while my mom or my friend will freak out on me. No matter the severity, the past, or the person, it just seems I can keep composure better than them.

Last night, my mom and I went out for our usual walk. I had worked out earlier in the day, so I knew my blood sugar would probably be an issue. I cut my insulin back and drank a juice half way through the walk. Not long after, I felt the low coming on full force. It was bad, I knew that. Inside my own mind, I was thinking that I just needed to make it around the next part of the walk so we would be closer to the house.

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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)

Michelle Kowalski

There really just is no way to describe the way an extreme low feels. It was surreal, like I was outside of myself; like I was watching myself through a camera mounted on my head--that carnival ride-like feeling you get when you watch a video of someone, say, walking through the woods from their point of view; like part of me was asleep while the conscious part of me fought like mad to make things right.

I saw the 29 and while I almost immediately pulled the strip out of the meter, for just a second I thought the number was the code for the strips. I, obviously, wasn't thinking clearly.

"29," I said to The Mr. (READ MORE)

Late Friday night, The Mr. came to bed and snuggled up close to me.

"You scared me this afternoon," he said quietly into my ear.

I had been asleep for some time, but his footsteps woke me. Or perhaps I was sleeping lightly.

"I know," I said. "I was scared, too."

We shared one of those moments Friday afternoon that makes you see so many things in a different way, makes you appreciate even more the people who are there for you.

That morning, I had been feeling a little down about some things. After dropping off No. 2 at the sitter after preschool, I called The Mr. just to chat, but he could hear it in my voice and asked me to come by his office.

"You seem really down," he said hugging me.

"I am," I said. (READ MORE)

We finally got some snow in our neck of the woods. It wasn't much, but just enough to sled in, play in and of course get hypoglycemic in. We've been so desperate for snow; we would have taken sledding down a mountain of mud after a heavy rain at this point.

What we find unfortunately is that trudging through the snow is so strenuous that it sinks Charlie like a stone. He was low all weekend. Even while being detached from his pump for much of it.

And now for the "damn you, diabetes" segment of this post:

I remember how exciting it was when school was cancelled due to snow. I loved snow days. Can't Charlie just enjoy a snow day without diabetes spoiling it? After a morning low on Friday, the kids played in the snow for a while. When Susanne called out to Charlie to ask how he was feeling, he stopped flapping for a moment and lifted two thumbs up skyward while lying on his back in mid snow angel form; huge smile upon his face. (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)