Surviving...
So, Friday I had a medical emergency. My blood sugar has been on a rollercoaster since I got the flu on Valentine's Day. My post-flu self has been off of my diet (I'm down 9 lbs) and my exercise schedule. All things came to a head on Friday when I woke up with my blood sugar at 44 (normal being 90-160). I ate, drove Mandy to the train, and went back home. My blood sugar had risen to 300, so I injected insulin. I had a Doctor's appointment later that morning and I figured that my blood sugar would be at a normal range by the time of the appointment; I was wrong. My blood sugar was 24 in the Doctor's office. They gave me sugar tablets and some OJ and at the completion of the visit the Doctor gave me explicit instructions to go eat lunch before heading back to work, so I did.
Back at work, I was having problems understanding what was going on. I believed that since I ate lunch that my sugar would be continuing on an upward trend; I was very wrong. After work (after everyone had left for the day), I somehow found myself sitting in the snow outside by the parking lot. This portion is a bit of a blur. Apparently Mandy called me at about 5:30pm to let me know when she would be at the train station for me to pick her up. When she asked where I was, I couldn't tell her. She eventually figured out that I was still at work and called an ambulance. Eventually an ambulance got there, got me on a glucose drip (after 3 attempts at a hand vein) and got my blood sugar up (~200). When they found me in the parking lot, my blood sugar was 12. I must have fallen and hurt my wrist too because it was sore as fuck and my hand began to swell from the missed IV attempts. I was wet, cold, and my head felt like my parietal bone was going to jump right off the top of my skull. Before I continue complaining about my sorry ass, it should be noted that someone was suffering as much, if not more, than I.
Mandy was stuck on a train from D.C. to downtown Baltimore (~45min ride). Last she knew, I was very near incoherent, possibly on the verge of death, and there was an ambulance on its way to save me and her phone stopped working. A gentleman on the train was nice enough to let her use his phone and she was able to call me again. When I picked up, she could hear the EMTs so she knew that I was at least not alone. In the end, all I could do was apologize. What do you say to someone that loves you, has saved your life, and lives in the constant fear that you might be one missed meal away from dying? "I love you and I'm not going anywhere" is what I said. It was the best I could come up with at the time, but I don't understand how anyone can live with a person like me. I couldn't honestly say "this will never happen again". True, this is a very rare instance (last time EMTs had to be called for a low blood sugar was 2 years ago) and I have been getting progressively better at controlling it, but ....fuck! It sucks.
Also, my Doctor said that my low blood sugars are very slowly and progressively killing my brain. I don't know if it was a scare tactic (the example he used involved a senior citizen that he knew 30 years ago), but goddamn if it didn't scare me.
Back at work, I was having problems understanding what was going on. I believed that since I ate lunch that my sugar would be continuing on an upward trend; I was very wrong. After work (after everyone had left for the day), I somehow found myself sitting in the snow outside by the parking lot. This portion is a bit of a blur. Apparently Mandy called me at about 5:30pm to let me know when she would be at the train station for me to pick her up. When she asked where I was, I couldn't tell her. She eventually figured out that I was still at work and called an ambulance. Eventually an ambulance got there, got me on a glucose drip (after 3 attempts at a hand vein) and got my blood sugar up (~200). When they found me in the parking lot, my blood sugar was 12. I must have fallen and hurt my wrist too because it was sore as fuck and my hand began to swell from the missed IV attempts. I was wet, cold, and my head felt like my parietal bone was going to jump right off the top of my skull. Before I continue complaining about my sorry ass, it should be noted that someone was suffering as much, if not more, than I.
Mandy was stuck on a train from D.C. to downtown Baltimore (~45min ride). Last she knew, I was very near incoherent, possibly on the verge of death, and there was an ambulance on its way to save me and her phone stopped working. A gentleman on the train was nice enough to let her use his phone and she was able to call me again. When I picked up, she could hear the EMTs so she knew that I was at least not alone. In the end, all I could do was apologize. What do you say to someone that loves you, has saved your life, and lives in the constant fear that you might be one missed meal away from dying? "I love you and I'm not going anywhere" is what I said. It was the best I could come up with at the time, but I don't understand how anyone can live with a person like me. I couldn't honestly say "this will never happen again". True, this is a very rare instance (last time EMTs had to be called for a low blood sugar was 2 years ago) and I have been getting progressively better at controlling it, but ....fuck! It sucks.
Also, my Doctor said that my low blood sugars are very slowly and progressively killing my brain. I don't know if it was a scare tactic (the example he used involved a senior citizen that he knew 30 years ago), but goddamn if it didn't scare me.