I said it out loud. Siah was tucked flat against my legs and she stretched out her furry arms at the sound of my voice.
I can't breathe right. The room is so hot. Tangled in my bedclothes, wrapped up in the blankets, trapped.
There is juice on the bureau next to the bed but my fingers and arms and hands are unresponsive, palsied by the weight of the hypoglycemia. Body sinking lower and lower into the mattress and I knew I would eventually be swallowed. Part of me welcomed the warmth. I just wanted to close my eyes and go back to sleep and fall deeper into the mattress until the morning.
I could see Chris lying next to me but he was miles and miles away from my unresponsive hands and I couldn't reach out to tap his shoulder.
My brain entered an eerie calm, all panic smothered by the sounds of my heart beating in my ears and the steady lull of Chris' breathing. Just reach out and touch him. Let him know you need his help. It's okay.
My hand, lifted by strings I couldn't see, leapt up from the bed and flopped against his shoulder like a fish. He woke instantly. "Are you okay?"
"No." My voice was eerily calm and dead in my throat. "No."
Seconds yawned by. I aged a thousand years, shattered into a million pieces.
He pressed the bottle of juice into my hands. I drank the entire thing without breathing. The stain of the vineyard on my bottom lip, I tested.
Slick with sweat, the bed damp beneath the small of my back. Cats circled like concerned sharks on the floor near the bed. Abby meowed pitifully.
It was the dinner from that night, where I was 202 mg/dl going into it and over-compensated for the Italian pasta meal. I over-bolused. This was no one's fault but my own. These lows toss me deep down the well and I can't even hope for a bucket because I put myself here. But I didn't mean to. I didn't realize I had over-bolused for the meal. I was 180 mg/dl before bed. I thought I was okay. I just wanted to go to dinner with my fiance. I didn't even have a glass of wine or a dessert treat. It was just dinner.
I did not mean to.
The next morning, with dark circles under my eyes and guilt a small seed at the bottom of my stomach, I awoke.