Here we are, still in Covid lockdown, and I thought it only fair to give you an update after my previous, low BGL inspired, post.
Yes, I was fine soon after posting that note. I knew I would be because my years of experience told me what steps I needed to take, even in my low BGL confused brain. There’s always the chance that I could slip too far and not be able to bring myself back. That has happened a few times in the past. But during the last note I was confident that I wasn’t heading down that path.
But another 5 minutes without having taken action would have resulted in an entirely different outcome ….. and no posting on the blog.
Because I had eaten sufficient carbohydrate to bring my level up, but things are never as simple as that, my levels were in the unhealthy high range for about the next 18 hours. No, not in the dangerous range where I was about to go unconscious from high, rather than low, but in the high range where you really don’t want them to be very often because of the long term consequences that won’t happen until 10 or 15 years from now. It’s that high range too often for too long that can lead to blindness and the loss of limbs, amongst other gems of joy that come with living with T1D.
One sad outcome from the last post was that one of my daughters read it and got a bit worried and upset. The reason for that was that she was the one who found me in the kitchen one morning just moments before I went down because of very low BGL. That was 4 or 5 years ago. She tells me that she was woken by “the noise” that apparently we make when we go very low and are heading for oblivion. I’m told that it is an animal noise that people struggle to describe. Of course I’ve never heard it, but my daughters have, as has my wife and my mother, and they all say the same thing. It sounds like an animal caught in a trap and at the end of it’s struggles to free itself.
A nurse friend of mine, who used to work in intensive care, when I mentioned this to her said “Oh yeah, that’s well known in the intensive care world. It’s a diabetic who is in serious trouble”. Who knew?
Anyway, that daughter read the last post and phoned me to make sure I was OK. Then she told me that the story raised bad memories for her from that time in the kitchen. She told me that she had come out to find me hanging on to the kitchen bench, trying to get food into my mouth but not able to. She got to me just as I collapsed and I would have hit my head on the kitchen bench as I fell if she hadn’t been able to grab me and lower me to the floor. That’s where I had stayed until the ambulance people got there and were able to bring me back to the world of the living.
No, living with T1D is not fun, but it is interesting. Sadly it can affect those around us almost as much as it affects us. But fortunately it doesn’t mean that the fall to the floor might be their last.
I wish I could end on a happier note, but this is the reality of living with T1D.