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.

I just kept knocking back the Skittles thinking that any second I would feel better. It wasn't happening fast enough, but after a few minutes I actually thought I'd be OK to head downstairs. I stood up and walked around the corner and then came right back. I tested again thinking that I should be feeling much, much better by now. I was up only a hair and it was still within the margin of error from the original test. I grabbed another handful of Skittles and decided to go ahead and try walking to the kitchen.

The girls were there. "Do you need to heat anything," D asked.

"No," I said, "But I need to take the elevator."

"Are you OK?" the color seemed to be draining from her face.

I paused. I wasn't sure how much information to give, how serious I should let them know this is, to let them know I have it under control.

"My blood sugar's low," I said matter-of-factly. "But it's nothing Skittles can't fix."

Sitting at the teeny lunch table, I felt like they wanted to ask me questions but either didn't know what to say or didn't want to feel like they were intruding.

It was the first time we had an extended, almost awkward silence.