So at the end of the first part of this post I was eating popcorn. I threw in some York peppermint patty pieces for a little holiday variety. My tummy was feeling better and while I had bolused for the cereal and some of the popcorn my sugar shot up to over 300 mg/dL before I knew it. I bolused again thinking I had underestimated carbs.

And then I left the office early to pick up the kids: the girls had their well child visits and No. 1 needed to see the orthodontist to have his retainer tightened. I continued to monitor Dex and while I had finally started to drop it seemed manageable and I felt fine.

Let me just say right now how much I adore our pediatrician's office. They are so thorough and take so much time to listen to what's going on and address every issue. Knowing that, it's no surprise that we were there nearly two hours this afternoon.

Looking back I realize that I may have been going low way earlier than I thought. No. 3, who just turned 4, needed four shots and a TB test. I remember standing by her head, holding her arms and wanting to pick her up while she screamed as she got a shot in each extremity. The nurses left, I put No. 3's clothes back on and suddenly felt faint.

We had been in an incredibly hot, stuffy room for about 90 minutes. I thought I had just had enough of the heat. I thought I was reacting to the shots the baby had just gotten (usually I laugh when the kids get shots; it's my freakishly weird defense mechanism). I sat down and snuggled with No. 3 as she tried to calm down.

I got profusely hot and just felt like I needed to get outside where it was cooler. If I could just get cooler I'd be fine, I kept thinking. No. 1 and No. 2 were already in the waiting room and as No. 3 and I walked past the front desk I felt the surge again and rushed to the waiting room so I could sit down.

I didn't feel low. I knew I wasn't low. I checked Dex. I wasn't low. I just wanted to lie down. I put my head between my legs but still felt faint. I tested my sugar: 83 mg/dL. I'm not low. I'm not low. I'm not low, I kept telling myself. But I was so hot and so sweaty. I put my head between my legs again and flipped my hair off my neck. The kids were coloring, watching a movie.

"Miss? Are you OK?" I heard the receptionist ask.

"Yeah. Uh I just feel like I'm going to faint," I said. I think I even chuckled a little. I'm not low. I'm not low. I'm not low. I would expect to feel this way if I were 33, but I wasn't. I was 83.

Before I knew it, the nurse practioner, A, was in the waiting room and another nurse, V. I was offered water and then I was standing and they were taking me back to an exam room to lie down.

"I just tested my sugar," I said. "I'm only 83. I'm not low."

"Do you take insulin?" A asked.

"Yes. I'm type 1," I said as I laid down on the exam table and felt the color and blood rush back to my face.