Lows on a Plane.
Yesterday morning, I boarded my flight at 7:15 am. (Which means I was up at 4 am, and then crossed into the strange time-space continuum into the Pacific time zone, which means I am bleary-eyed and totally confused about what time it actually is right now). Since it was such an early flight and since I'm trying my hardest to avoid taking medication to fly, I decided to take this trip without my trusty xanax prescription.*
* It's in my bag, but I'm not planning on using it. It's only if I have a wicked panic attack or something before the flight.
With the Dexcom plugged in and doing its thing, I felt pretty on top of the diabetes crap. My blood sugars were holding in a nice pattern of the low 100's, and my snacks were heavy on the protein side, so I wasn't anticipating any serious issues.
About three hours into the flight, I noticed that the music piping through my headphones sounded off. I couldn't put my finger on what the issue was, but there was something decidedly swimmy about the sounds. Then I felt a vibration near my foot - the Dexcom wailing and twitching inside of my purse. I reached down and retrieved the little football-shaped receiver to see a "LOW - Under 55 mg/dl" on the screen.
Five minutes passed and I still felt horrendous. My meter flashed me a 48 mg/dl. I needed a liquid solution to work through this low. So I got up from my seat and went back to where the flight attendants were sitting.
"Sure thing." She reached for a plastic cup and started to fill it with ice.
"Not a problem." She handed me the aluminum can of orange juice and I chugged half of it down without breathing.
"You okay? Do you need to sit down?"
"I'll be fine in just a few minutes. Thanks, though."
And I went back to my seat, plugged my headphones in, and listened to some music while my blood sugar started to rise. A few minutes later, I noticed the stewardess was kneeling by my seat. I took my headphones out. "Hi again!"
She smiled. "My sister's husband has diabetes, so I know how you can be totally wiped out after one of those lows. I can't wait to call her when we land, so I can tell her I saved one of you guys!" She smiled, patted my arm, and walked back to her seat.
I laughed to myself. "One of you guys." Like we're diabetes collectibles. (We should totally have baseball cards.)