Did Somebody Say Diabetes Is Dull? BWAAA-ha-ha-ha-ha

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Good grief. I woke up low this morning and the day has been downhill ever since.

Actually, I was unaware I was hypoglycemic: I just thought the room was hot. After all, I was sweating like mad and had kicked all of the covers off. And why did my continuous glucose monitor continue to beep like mad?

It wasn’t until I got up and was moving about that I figured it out. At that point, everything was fuzzy and I picked up the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and commenced to chug the juice down.

While I may have raised my BGs to a more-normal level, it wasn’t the end of my woes. I’d been awakened around 2:30 AM and was neither asleep nor awake. That is, I was too awake to go back to bed and too asleep to get anything done.

Nevertheless, I tried. To get some work done, that is. But first, I kept trying to drink a cup of tea. It was dark in the room and I somehow got the impression that my desk was wider than it was, so I would take a drink and then set my cup down — over thin air. And it would hit the floor. Luckily, carpeted, so the cup didn’t break and, luckily, a dark carpet, so the stains didn’t show.

After pulling that number a couple of times, I decided to quit and stopped the caffeine.

So I started falling asleep. And I do mean “falling.” There’s nothing like sitting at your desk and, the next thing you know, the floor is flying up to hit your face.

Since the desk chair is on wheels, it’s easier to get back on the scooter, then move over onto the chair. But I couldn’t get onto the scooter. I’m way past due for hylan G-F 20 (brand name Synvisc-One) for my osteoarthritis and my knees were weak. So I began calling out “HELP! HELP!”

None of the three adults in my house heard me. Finally, after about five minutes, my husband comes stumbling in, to find me draped decoratively over the scooter.

“Need something?” he asked.

Am I missing something here? Did my parents really mean to name me Rodney Dangerfield? (For you young’uns, the late comedian’s schtick was based on the catchphrase, “I don’t get no respect.”)

At any rate, my baboo helped me get back on the chair by holding it steady, then I transferred to the scooter…and went back to bed.

I finally brought my endocrinologist in on my hypoglycemia. Hopefully, that will speed things up, because I’m tired of lows.

And there’s so much to do. Like planning a pool party for the grandchildren’s birthdays this month.

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