Don't Pass Out

It's very rare that I have a day where I truly hate having diabetes. Yeah, it sucks but it's a waste of energy to spend time hating it. However, during my Psychology class yesterday...I really really fucking hated my diabetes.

While my teacher was lecturing, I noticed my hand was shaking a little as I was writing. I hadn't felt it yet but I knew immediately it was a sign my blood sugar was dropping. That's when a mental image of Frosted Flakes popped into my head. Fuck. I suddenly remembered that, in my rush that morning, I had taken five units of insulin but I had forgotten to eat the bowl of cereal. As my worry sunk in, I gradually felt the low blood sugar sinking in, as well. My next thought went to my blood sugar meter...which I had left in my room. Along with my glucose tabs. And my emergency glucagon shot. Double fuck. My wrist was also bare...I had forgotten to wear my medical identification bracelet.

Then I did something incredibly stupid: I just sat there...trying as hard as I could to ignore my low BG. The very last thing I wanted to do was to stand up and call attention to myself in front of 60+ strangers. So I sat silently for over ten minutes, shaking and feeling everything drain out of me (it kind of feels like running 10 miles without having eaten all day). Don't pass out don't pass out, I repeated over and over in my head.

But the panic rising in my chest finally compelled me to ask for help. Reaching my teacher's desk, I asked stupidly, "Is there a vending machine around here?" When she began to explain, however, I blurted out, "I don't have any money." I felt terribly aware of how helpless I was when I admitted at last, "I have a low blood sugar." And with that, tears suddenly began pooling in my eyes. I didn't know this woman I was crying in front of and I didn't know a soul in the entire class...which only intensified my embarrassment and panic.

Pausing the lecture, my teacher led me toward the exit but not before I had to turn to face the entire lecture room, filled with people staring at me curiously. Quickly, my teacher flagged down a Coke and, glancing at my wobbly knees, directed me to sit on a bench in the hallway (Thank God she wasn't one of the people who tries to offer me a stick of chewing gum). For the next ten minutes I gulped down the entire Coke, impatient for the sugar to enter my bloodstream and for my panic to subside. Fortunately, as my blood sugar began returning to normal, my rational thoughts began to return, as well. Why did I sit there for so long? Why didn't I have any sugar with me in the first place? Wow, I'm an idiot.

It just made me so angry that all of my seemingly little mistakes had brought about this awful situation. If only I'd simply remembered to eat my Frosted Flakes. Or to stick my glucose tabs in my backpack. Ugh...I'm not going to let that happen again.