I was proud of myself: a 13-minute jog on the treadmill, 22 minutes of weights and stretching, and 3 laps in the pool followed by a well-deserved healthy snack consisting of a granny smith apple, half a cup of walnuts, and a cup of mango-flavored black tea. I climbed into bed and checked my blood sugar. 92 mg/dl. A bit low for just before bed, but surely there were still some carbs in my system, I thought. I settled in with my book and read for a blissful half hour.
In retrospect, I should have been more concerned about that 92. I should have checked to see how much insulin I had left on board. But I didn’t.
Without warning, I began to feel nervous. I felt trapped in my room, so I opened the door only to find I jumped every time a person walked past it.
I pulled out my meter and tried to hold my hand steady as I tested. 57 mg/dl. I crammed 4 glucose tablets in my mouth and forced myself to finish chewing them before eating something else. I think low blood sugar must do something to my taste buds, because those glucose tablets tasted magical. Everyone else insists they taste like colored chalk.
I followed up the glucose tablets with a banana and some walnuts. I crawled back into bed to wait for my sugar to come back up. And partly to protect myself from the ominous sounds of the air conditioner with my blanket.
Low blood sugar messes with your head.