Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin

share this article

Highs and Lows

It’s like a dream, no a nightmare. The room is swimming in and out of focus, but I can’t focus. There are people around me, strangers? No, I recognize some of the faces. I wish they would all stop asking me these difficult questions. Why is it so hot. I’m being moved. My work boots come into view and I’m trying to get them off or on. I’m not sure. I’m given water and a chocolate bar. ‘Hmm, it’s nice’ I say as I try to read the ingredients. My brain is not working, just leave me alone and let me rest. I’m shouting or am I? What I don’t know. We’re in a car and they keep talking to me. Why? More strangers, I’m sure I’ve never seen these people before. No, don’t stick that needle in my arm. I’m OK really…

Clearly I’m not. I’m being fed glucose intravenously. The room slowly comes into focus. I’m given paper work to fill out. Name, easy enough. Date of Birth, 20 June 20 June 20 June – I write. Seeing this the form is taken away by one of my work colleague. The one who has driven me to the hospital. He fills the rest out.

The drip continues to feed me glucose. I notice that my T-shirt is completely wet, in fact so are my trousers and socks. I’m able to answer questions now. The Doctor comes in and tells me that my blood sugar level was below 30 and that is 60 points below the normal level of 90. How did I get so low. Too much insulin at lunch? Carried too many bricks on the job site? I’m not sure.

I have my highs and lows. I am a diabetic. Have been for the last 9 years. Type 1. It means that I have to inject insulin with every meal that I eat and have one final shot before going to bed. It’s a pain having to test my blood sugar levels daily and also remembering to have to take my insulin injections with me wherever I go. It’s also a pain having to inform everyone at work that if I suddenly go stupid, aggressive or start to convulse that they must feed me sugar as quickly as possible. Not that the chocolate bar was enough in this case.

The Doctor tells me not to take any more insulin till the next day, which to me is like an open book to go and eat all the things I can’t usually eat. A highlight on the way home is a stop at Dairy Queen. I have a blizzard, guilt free. Yummy. That evening my sugar level is only slightly above normal. Rather too high than slipping into a diabetic coma again.

The last time I had an episode like this was just before I got married, but that’s another story altogether.

About Me

I don’t believe in Miracles I Rely on them

Recent Posts

Old Books…

It’s twilight, overcast and starting to drizzle. I’m walking down a busy London road. People are

Read More »

Ad's in the wrong genre

Scroll to Top