I have had three hypoglycemic episodes where I was on the verge of passing onto the next realm. Just three in the 18 years since my diagnosis. They were 1) falling into the refrigerator door and cutting my face when I was looking for orange juice, 2) skidding into the snowy ditch and getting my little Chevy stuck as I fumbled in the glove box for a Snickers, 3) and laying down on the kitchen floor to be woken up by my boyfriend as he made me eat fruit snacks.
All three–not so good. But in the grand scheme of what can happen to me–not so bad, either. I have never had 911 called for me, never used my glucagon, never seized. But I feel it is inevitable and it really scares me.
My blood sugar gets madly low and I still function. Just this morning I checked my sugar when my tongue felt tingly. I was at 38. I had just made my boyfriend’s coffee and kissed him happily as he left for work. “How the hell am I not dead?” is a thought I often have.
Recently, that same boyfriend told me to sit down and check my sugar. I clumsily walked down the stairs after cleaning the bathroom. I was at 30. When I stabilized, which is 70 for me, I started crying. “I am so scared I’m gonna get to zero, babe. Why can’t I feel it before it’s too late?”
He grabbed me and held me, saying he was here to make sure I never get to zero. Also, reminding me of the CGM on my arm that is here to assist me.
But the thing is, neither of those is anything to solely rely on. Even the Dexcom CGM site says to use a glucometer to confirm your glucose before treating a low or high. There have been plenty of times when the CGM is telling me I’m low but an hour later, after eating a plethora of goods, I was actually high. My boyfriend and my sister have the CGM app on their phones. They can see my glucose and get alarms when I’m low. But they can also sleep through their alarms going off, they take vacations, or turn phones off when in a meeting.
Point is, I am really fucking scared. But maybe, just maybe, I’m gonna be okay.