I'm on the elliptical and plugged in, watching tv while I work out. About four minutes in, I see this weird spot in the bottom right hand corner of my right eye. Nothing too dramatic, but just this nagging little floaty thing that makes my eye feel like it has a filmy cotton ball covered the bottom portion of it.
I continue my workout, and at the seven minute mark, my sneakers feel like cement blocks and that eye thing is still foggy. And this thought actually goes through my head - "Should I test?" - but because I am a stubborn fool, I don't quite yet.
I reach for the Dexcom receiver, only to realize it's at home on the coffee table. So I walk for a few more minutes, not realizing I'm listing to one side and hanging on to the hand rail. (But once my brain starts musing about how I'd maybe wear some of those Project Runway outfits, it dawns on me that I should probably test like right now.)
A bright, shiny 43 mg/dl smiles back up at me from my meter. The eye thing, the cement feet, and the headache suddenly magnify. But I am a stubborn fool. And for some stupid, stupid reason, I decide to keep going. I bring the treadmill back to a 0% incline and reduce the speed to 2.0 miles per hour. The sports bottle I brought with me, filled with juice, is drained in a millisecond, and then I just plod along. Plod, plod, plod.
Internal Motivational Speaker pipes up in my ear.
"Kerri. Get off the treadmill, you stubborn fool. You are going to hurt yourself. Your blood sugar is way too low for you to be physically exerting yourself."
I keep plodding.
"Are you ignoring me on purpose? Because I can go all night, lady. You'd better listen up and get yourself off the treadmill and sitting tight until your blood sugar comes up."
I furrow my brow. "I don't want to. This is the only time I get to myself all day long and I am determined to banish this abdominal fluff and seriously? This low is making me so mad at diabetes crap that I want to throw something. So no, I'm not stopping. I'll go slow. I already drank the juice. And I'll test again in a few minutes. But I'm not stopping."
I know I should have quit as soon as I saw that low number, but I didn't. I am stubborn. I walked slowly and unsteadily for a few more minutes, and then my sneakers felt a bit lighter. And my eye fog was lifting. It wasn't until the Project Runway outfits started to look ridiculous again that I felt completely better. Quick blood sugar check showed me an 81 mg/dl.
"This could have ended badly, you know," said my Internal Motivational Speaker as she filed her nails.
"You're a stubborn fool, Ms. Kerri. You need to listen to me sometimes, even when you don't want to."
"I know that, too."
"Okay. Next time, you sit out for a few minutes, just to be on the safe side."
"Fine. I will." I glanced up at the tv again. "Dude, Gretchen looks just like Skeletor."
"She totally does."