“I heard the alarms going off, yeah. But what woke me up completely was when you started screaming,” Chris said over breakfast.
“Oh yeah. That was a thing,” I agreed, remembering that moment clearly.
On the whole, I’m a very quiet sleeper. I don’t snore, I don’t move around much while I sleep, and generally I’m silent, except for the occasional whimper (apparently I make small yapper-type dog noises while falling asleep).
That explains why my terrified screams jolted my husband awake last night.
Dexcom alarms started going off around 2 am, at which point I woke up, had a juice box and some raisins, and went back to sleep. But it wasn’t a restful sleep, still punctuated by the low blood sugar alarms blaring into the night. I woke up to the low alarm five minutes later, decided to wait a little longer to see if my blood sugar was going to climb, fell back asleep, the alarm went off … this cycle of interrupted sleep and CGM soundtrack went on for the better part of an hour.
But eventually, I was back up to 75 mg/dL, so I thought I was fine.
Only the snack wasn’t cutting it, and my blood sugar started to tumble yet again. My Dexcom started bleating out alarms once again, but I wasn’t awake. I was dreaming, actively, only in my dream, I was aware that I was low. And also that I was asleep. I don’t remember the storyline of my hypo-induced nightmare, but during the course of it I realized I was low and, if I didn’t wake up, I would be in some serious trouble. Dreaming Kerri decided that, in order to wake up Actual Kerri, she needed to scream. Loudly. It was the kick my Inception-influenced mind needed to bring me fully into consciousness.
So she did. I did. (The pronouns are starting to tangle.)
I clumsily reached past my blaring phone towards my meter, with 48 mg/dL the result on the screen.
“I’m very low. Could I have juice, please?”
(Our communication skills about lows, especially 3 am ones, has been diluted down to screams, jolts, and polite, disembodied-voice requests juice.)
A full glass of juice and two hours after the lows started, it was done and sleep finally returned. But my dreams were still strange, still restless, still confused, and when I woke up to ready my daughter for school, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was really awake.