Diabetes shows up in the most awful places. Take yesterday for example.

A little background first. Saturday night I was two hours away from home with my kids celebrating Hanukkah with old family friends. The Mr. was on call, so he stayed home. As we were preparing to leave and head to my parents' condo, No. 3 fell down a flight of stairs. No one saw her go, but No. 2 saw her at the bottom of the stairs. Actually, No. 2 saw No. 3's light-up shoes at the bottom of the stairs. This was a full flight of 10 to 12 stairs from a first floor to a basement.

No. 3 stopped crying almost as soon as I picked her up. There was no blood, no cuts, no abrasions, no bumps, no immediate bruises. I thought we were in the clear. She seemed a little confused--wanting me to pick her up and then immediately put her down--but overall just seemed a little sore. I kept trying to think how I would feel if I had just fallen down a flight of stairs. Mom and I watched her for nearly two hours; she was walking and talking fine, had full movement of her limbs, wasn't lethargic or throwing up. Again, I really thought we were in the clear.

Monday, though, I noticed that she was favoring her right arm and that her right shoulder was swollen. I moved her well-baby visit up from 4 p.m. Tuesday to 10 a.m. Tuesday. Her pediatrician suspected her collar bone was broken and sent us for an X-ray. As we were sitting in the radiology waiting area, I checked my sugar because it had been roughly two hours since I ate breakfast. I was surprised to see 62, especially since I felt fine. I chewed on a piece of hard candy and dug in my purse for some Smarties just for insurance.

And then, as I was laying No. 3 on the X-ray table, the shaking started. She was terrified--justifiably--and wanted her momma. I leaned down next to the table hoping that the technicians would be done quickly enough that I could treat myself after the X-ray. But then I knew I wasn't going to make it that long. I looked up at the tech next to me and said, "Do you have any candy?" I know she thought I was crazy and I suspect she thought I wanted to bribe the baby to stay still. She stammered and I blurted out--no sense in beating around the bush in this situation--"I'm diabetic and I'm low." She disappeared immediately, but in my low state I felt like she was gone forever.

So I darted across the room and frantically threw things out of my bag looking for more sugar. Thankfully, I found some (right as the tech came back with a big bar of chocolate!). I was too weak to stand, though, and had to crawl back to the X-ray table.

This is not the kind of support I want to give my children. I want them to be able to look me in the eyes all the time in these situations, not worry about whether I'll have to excuse myself to treat a low.