My dreams feel so real. The smells, the sounds, the way things taste. How people were dressed. If it was warm or not. Which cat was roaming around. Was I scared? Did I feel safe? What shoes was I wearing? My five senses are completely involved in every dream I have.
While I slept last night, my subconscious diabetic mind played a cruel joke on me:
The eerie lights on the clock radio read “3:42 am.”
Dream Kerri tested her bloodsugar. 585 mg/dl.
“Holy crap,” Dream Kerri exclaimed, rubbing the stubborn sleep from her eyes. She washed her hands, just to make sure, and then tested again.
(It’s here that my Real Self should have clued in. My meter does read anything higher than 600 mg/dl. Yet Real Self slept on and Dream Kerri freaked out.)
Dream Kerri pulled out her pump and cued up the Bolus Wizard. Entered “600 mg/dl” and no carbs. The pump cautioned her to check for an occlusion and to consider an insulin injection. The suggested bolus was 11.1 units.
Boop beep beep. Boop beep beep. Her thigh site ached a little bit from the bolus.
No problem. Lay back down. Try and get some sleep. Relax.
Go back to sleep.
— The alarm went off.
The eerie lights on the clock radio read “6:47 am.”
I reached for my meter, performing the ritualistic morning test and ringing in at 114 mg/dl.
“Wow. It only took about three hours for me to come down from that ridiculous high. Good thing.”
I scrolled back in the meter’s memory to see exactly when I had been 600 mg/dl. Nothing there. The last time I had tested was at 2:01 am, before I went to bed. 182 mg/dl. I scrolled through the bolus memory on my pump. My last bolus was at 2:01 am, correcting that 182 mg/dl.
Nothing else was there. No record of that high. No record of a huge bolus.