Driving over the highway on a route I usually don't take I was thinking about the letter I had just drafted to the bank that holds our mortgage in Missouri. I was pleading with the bank president because we see no hope for selling that house and even if we do we won't recoup the money we've put into it in the last 15 months.

I had butterflies. I felt strange. I felt light and heavy. It was a weird feeling considering how confident I felt as I was writing the letter. That's when it dawned on me that I actually felt low. It wasn't about the letter after all.

I try not to test while I'm driving -- especially on the highway -- but as soon as I realized what was happening I knew I needed to test right that second.

59 mg/dL, but I could tell I was dropping. My mind started to get foggy: I knew where I was supposed to go, yet still got in the wrong lane. And when the car in the lane next to me wouldn't let me over, I tried to speed up instead of slowing down. And then threw some four-letter words at him.

All this while I was digging in my purse for the snack bags of Skittles that I usually keep there. A stop light allowed me to dig while actually looking. I found two starlight mints, but no Skittles.

Green light. I started looking desperately for a drive-thru so I could get a soda. Nothing. Well, there may have been but my brain was getting so foggy that I was actually more focused on getting to my destination.

As I parked I sighed with relief, knowing that I'd be able to find my Skittles and be OK. But I found nothing except really old sugar-free cough drops. I remembered the juice box in the glove compartment that I had put there for just an occasion like this. I prepared myself for drinking hot juice.

As I stuck the straw through the foil top I read: Best by 8/08. Ew... year-old, hot juice that had likely been in my car since I was diagnosed four years ago. My foggy brain tried to convince me it would taste fine.

Let me give you a piece of advice: don't drink year-old juice. Draw your own conclusions.

I sat in the car looking for a restaurant or at least somewhere that would have fast-acting carbs. I was still feeling low and knew if I tried to walk that things would get much worse. I drove a little through the strip-mall parking lot and saw a deli, but it was across a common area and the closest place to park was nearly back where I had started.

I decided to park back in front of the shop I was going to and hope that the clerk had a soda hanging around. As I sat in the car preparing myself for the short walk I noticed I was sitting in front of Jump and Shout! Play Center and prayed they had a concession stand. Even better, I noticed a Coke machine just inside the door. I felt saved! I grabbed $1 from my purse and a handful of change from the ash tray.

It got worse as soon as I started to walk. I had started to shake. The Coke machine was actually a refrigerator with a lock on it. Lucky for me, it wasn't actually locked, but I was so weak and scared that I couldn't open the fridge. I walked to the counter slowly, the young girl looked up and asked how she could help me.

I know I gave her a really weird smile. And in the seconds between the freaky smile and my words I contemplated how much to tell this poor girl.

"I need a regular soda," I said. "I'm having a low blood sugar and I need a regular soda."

"OK it's right over there," she said pointing to the refrigerator.

"I couldn't get it open," I said. And then, I may have said again that I needed a soda. She started to move quickly around the counter and then said: "Hey garblegarble can you get her a soda?"

I didn't realize this until later, but I don't think garblegarble heard my "low blood sugar" comment and perhaps thought I was being lazy because she was a real crank. She walked around the counter, and asked if I wanted a regular soda.

"Yes, regular," I think I said. And then: "Sugar! I need sugar!"

The young girl said: "Can you open it for her?" Maybe she did understand what I was going through after all.

Garblegarble opened it while practically running past me and kept the cap. She kept the cap!

"Thank you. Thank you." I blurted while gulping the soda.

"Ok, thaaaat's $2.17," the young girl said.

Holy crap, I just paid more than $2 for this stinkin' soda, I thought as I passed her a five-dollar bill because my brain was still too foggy to count out exact change.

I tried to put my purse back together and then slowly walked to a chair by the front door. After about half of the soda, I tested: 107 mg/dL. Really expected to be higher and considering how wretched I felt I allowed myself to nearly finish the soda.

I sat and sat. Waiting to feel normal. I wanted to sleep.

I forced myself up, feeling better though not wonderful. I walked to the Boy Scouts shop next door and even as I was signing the credit card receipt my hands were still shaky. Slowly, I drove out of the shopping mall. As I got on the highway I realized it had been nearly an hour since I left work.