There's a reason I don't watch 9/11 memorials and retrospectives. I spent too many months breathing in the remains of the never-identified mixed with burning concrete, steel, and asbestos. For too many months, my previously-direct route into work was disrupted and made roundabout. For too many months, the scaffolding, National Guardsmen, barricaded streets, and ubiquitous grey dust left us worried of another attack that might complete the destruction that the attacks on the World Trade Center left half-done. I spent too many months wondering about what my religious responsibilities were to the families of those I never knew, whose loved ones' remains would remain as a body burden in my lungs, and too many months worrying about latent effects that might not show up until ten, twenty, or even thirty years after my exposure to that environment.

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Ever since I can remember, I've been a dreamer. Not only do I get lost in vivid day dreams, but my subconscious takes over in the darkness of night with raging images. Over the years, I've come to realize that I have a history of especially strange dreams.

They are a mix of nightmares, unrealistic events, and practical moments. I've had some that were premonitions, predicting coming events. Others were so far out of the box that I don't expect anything to resemble them in real life.

But the one thing that my mind usually keeps out of my dreams is diabetes and pain. No nightmare has ever involved diabetes complications, seizures, or even diabetes moments. It's so ingrained in my daily life that my brain doesn't find the need to remind me of it in my sleep.

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Lows come in all shapes and sizes. They come with grueling symptoms or no symptoms at all. They come with reason and purpose, and other times with no cause in sight. Sometimes they're short-lived and sometimes they linger for hours. For me, lows come in several forms:

The worst kind, the night low: Night lows for me come sometime between 2am and 6am. Usually it's a reading in the 50's or 40's that wakes me from a deep sleep. I wake with panic in my heart, it pounds in my chest. My body coated in sweat, the sheets damp under me. And an overwhelming weakness that leaves my knees shaking in the darkness. For me, this is the worst low because I have a history of seizures. I'm deathly afraid that one of these lows won't wake me or I won't catch it in time. Glucagon stashed by my bed does nothing to quell the fear. The only peace of mind is having someone close by listening for the sounds of a low.

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I've gone back and forth about whether to wear a medical ID bracelet. Part of me says I shouldn't bother because once a paramedic friend of mine told me one of the first things they do to a person who has passed out is to check their blood sugar. Part of me says I should wear one as an extra measure of caution.

I wore a medical ID bracelet throughout my third pregnancy. I don't think I ever took it off -- not in the shower, not for exercise, nothing. I don't remember why I stopped wearing it. Perhaps I lost it. In fact, now that I think about it, I think that's exactly what happened. I had removed the ugly silver chain and replaced it with strands of colorful beads to match whatever I was wearing. Well, the chains and clasps were cheap and ...

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I’m not afraid of needles, but I must admit that I’m a little fearful of the bloodwork I’m scheduled to have in a few weeks.
 

Since I finally found an endo practice that I enjoy (yes, I know I still haven’t blogged about it yet!), they naturally want their own bloodwork. Which is great. And fine with me. It’s just the type of bloodwork that’s being done that’s leaving me a little uneasy.
 

I know it shouldn’t. And, really, I’m not uneasy I’m just kind of … I don’t know… just nervous? anxious? curious?
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Hans van de Vorst

Fear of needles. Fear of blood. Fear of hospitals or doctors. These are all normal phobias in the world. People commonly relate to one or all of these fears, whether from bad experiences, horror stories or movies/TV shows.

But for a diabetic, what are our fears? Of course, many diabetics deal with the fear of needles, blood or hospitals/doctors. I'm fine with the needles and the blood, but I have a strong dislike towards doctors. I wouldn't say I'm afraid of them, but I don't particularly like to hear what they have to say (this stems from every doctor's appointment in my past that I would leave crying from because my control just wasn't good enough).

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