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Diabetes is a crazy disease. It's constantly surprising me and keeping me on my toes. I guess I enjoy the surprises so that I don't get stuck in the monotonous drone of diabetes life, but at the same time, some predictability would be nice.

I took too long to study for an exam this morning, which put me rushing to get to my first class on time. I left the house only two minutes late. I checked off the mental list in my head. A/C turned up. Check. Cat fed. Check. Meter. Check. Money. Check. And so on.

Since I missed the bus, I walked the mile to campus, hurrying every step of the way. The Texas sun mixed with the semi-fall temperature to leave a beautiful day. My backpack was heavy though. The sun was zapping my strength. My usual route seemed to take a little longer than normal.

By the time I reached campus, I knew that I was low. I opted for the Lifesavers in my bag and being on time instead of the extra steps to grab a Coke and rush to class. When I finally sunk into my seat, I checked in at 96. Not as bad as I assumed, but I still had 1.7 active units left over from breakfast. That's what I get for running late and not being prepared.

As I checked the units in my pump, I realized that the resorvoir was low. Very low. I remembered half way through my usual morning routine that I needed to change the set out, but I put it off until there was less insulin (and less time). In the end, I had completely forgotten until that moment.

I searched through my backpack for extra insulin. I had a bottle of Humalog, luckily. But as I searched for my usual stash of syringes, I couldn't seem to find anything. A bottle of Humalog. A near empty resorvoir. And four hours until I could get back home to change it out.

I decided to set a temp basal for as low as I could go without setting in for a sky rocket. I knew I could rely on the active insulin if I didn't overtreat the low. So I ate three Lifesavers and set a temp basal for four hours at 0.50 units. It still only left me with two hours of insulin.

An hour later (and half way into my English lit class), I checked my blood sugar. 151. My pump suggested a 0.8 bolus that I quickly denied. I'd just have to watch this upward trend and hope for the best. My upcoming exam lingered in my head. Would I be too high to remember things? Would I be able to correct the blood sugar and stabilize in time?

I soared through my next class and got out ten minutes early. I was the first to leave the room and quickly made it to the bus stop. As I sat in the sun, I felt the fatigue wash over me. No thirst. No headache. Just that sleepy feeling. Only ten more minutes until I'd be home though.

As I got home, I felt the crash coming on. I sat down on my sofa for a few minutes, just trying to catch my breath. Stupid blood sugars. Now I'd be too high to be ready for my exam and probably be correcting blood sugars all night. My eyes closed.

Thirty minutes later, I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating under my cat (yes, he's a silly thing). What happened? Was my blood sugar that high? I tried to wipe the cobwebs out of my mind. I checked my blood sugar, waiting for something in the 300's to shine back at me.

I was 76. Huh? There's no way. As my body slowly woke up, the low feeling washed over me. A slightly numb interior. A shakey and cold exterior. The butterflies swarmed in my stomach.

I have no idea how that happens. To go without insulin for an hour isn't even recommended, but to go cut a basal in half and completely run out for over two hours and still end up low...seems miraculous to me. But hey, I'm willing to take 76 over 376 anyday.