"I couldn't put any inflection in my voice. It was like I was speaking while in a trance or something," I said, recounting last night's low to Chris.
"I know. You always sound like that when you're really low. That was the worst one I've seen in a long time."
"Worst one I've felt, in ages, too."
This is the second low in as many weeks that's made me feel like I was sliding too close to something dangerous. And as I've mentioned before, it's the middle-of-the-night lows that feel like out-of-body experiences. (Thank goodness for hyphens, no?) It's like I'm not even in there, my words just coming out on unaffected autopilot, my body going through whatever survival motions are required but the adrenaline isn't even in place to make me feel human.
I woke up this morning and my mouth tasted like glucose tabs and toothpaste (product of the post-low bathroom visit where I brush my teeth and wonder how many brain cells I took out in the process of this hypoglycemic event), a sweet, minty hybrid that tastes like failure.
These lows have happened a bit more lately than they have in months past, as I'm trying to keep my A1c in the range it's in, and they're knocking me for a serious loop. (And no Dexcom on last night because the sensor wilted off late in the afternoon, and I'm still dealing with itchy rash issues. Hopefully will find a solution to that soon.) The hangovers from these wee morning lows ache a bit more, and they take time to taper off, leaving the morning after a bit foggy and thick. Currently running on glucose dust and the odd avocado. (What can I say - they're tasty, those avocado things.)
Tomorrow will be better. Today has an air of "suck" to it, but tomorrow will be better.