I opened my eyes slowly, taking a second at least to convince my lids to lift.
Oh, home. I’m in my own bed.
Moved my hand towards the cellphone on my bedside table, in pursuit of my continuous glucose monitor graph. My hand moved in slow motion, a trace of its movement in the air behind it.
53 mg/dL.
“Not that low, but low enough,” my brain acknowledged, and my head went to nod but its response time was dulled. The connection between “do this action” and “this action” was entirely severed. My body didn’t want to do anything unless it was to have my hands twitch mildly and my eyelids to shut.
A juice box sat, untouched, on the bedside table. It’s right there. Right there. I’m still here, still here, not reaching for it.
My brain is displeased, logical and panicking and screaming.
GET THE GODDAMN JUICE AND DRINK IT WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR YOU ARE FALLING DOWN THIS WELL OF HYPOGLYCEMIA. DO SOMETHING BEFORE YOU DROWN. GET UP GET UP. GET UP.
Sure, brain. I’ll grab that juice box.
… in a minute.
It’s not like falling down a well with the power of gravity providing an assist; it’s going down the shaft of a well like Alice falling into Wonderland, floaty and confusing and hard to make my body respond to the commands of my brain. I would have closed my eyes tight in order to concentrate on actions but they wouldn’t close tight. They only wanted to stare at the ceiling for a few seconds before shutting again.
A minute or thirty passed and it seemed that I had drank the juice box. The empty box with the straw poking out as evidence. The stain of grape juice on my sheets, evidence. My hands and eyes and legs doing what I requested, evidence.
Still here. Evidence.
Swing over to the side of the bed. I sent the message to my legs. They responded gratefully and almost instantly, coming out from underneath the thick winter blankets, my feet touching the floor for the first time of this earned day. Stretched my arms over my head, wobbly and still not back in range yet but I’m still here. Still here.
Still here.
Man that sucks! Glad you recovered! Been there done that got the t shirt!
Kerri-
you captured it.
The pull of that voice that says, I’m so wiped, let me just rest here for a minute..or an hour…its soooo comfortable here in bed, or a couch, or in the car, or lying down on your floor in the office….and the other voice screaming to get up, act, you are going to die if you don’t! EAT!!!!!
So glad the second voice won out….
Just had my first bad low in awhile because my transmitter died and I was without CGM for a day. Woke up (Thank God) with a 39—same as you couldn’t really figure out how to do what I needed to do—get up and get sugar. Don’t know how I used to do this all the time—I love CGM!
Oh the stories of low. So many such little time. I have difficulty even getting a top 10 together. But in the top 5? Waking up naked on the floor with six fireman and my wife in my bedroom. I cleared my through and asked, if I missed the party or i was the party?
Yeah I hear about that comment a lot.
So sorry and I know just how this feels. I’ve started using applesauce pouches because then I don’t have to deal with straw, wrapper etc. just twist and chug. I have a Costco sized box next to my bed.
I related to this big time! You describe it well. I am usually hypoglycemia unaware after 50 years of lows. But I had the same type of experience yesterday afternoon. I. Was. So. Exhausted. I just wanted to go to sleep. But that other voice kept whispering to me that sleep wasn’t a good idea! Juice was a better choice! Thankfully, I downed two juice boxes before I closed my eyes.
I’ve always thought of a bad low just that way: falling down a well. Impossible to explain what that feels like to someone who doesn’t have diabetes.
I’ve been asked, more than once, what a low bs is like. After some description, my response typically ends with “if I don’t act quickly, there’s a point of know (common sense has been tossed) return”.
I appreciate your posts and the comments from others. Intersting to see the various “life preservers” we TD1’s keep on our night tables. Between my wife’s sharp elbows on one side, and skittles on the other:), I’ve managed to survive those sleeping lows.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-R8gHj_7v8