It started with three beeps at 3:00 am.
I rolled over and clicked the button on my Dexcom - 47. "Well, that's not so bad", my still-asleep brain mused. (I'm used to only waking up once it's reached LOW.)
Reflexively, I reached for the glucose tabs. One. Two. Not satisfied, I stumbled out to the kitchen for some orange juice. Gulp. Gulp. I fell back into the sweat-infused bed sheets.
The next time I was jolted awake, it wasn't from any sort of beeping, vibrating or audible alarm. No - this alarm was blaring, loudly, from my stomach.
Oh no. This is bad. Run!
Within minutes the juice, last night's snack, and possibly part of my stomach all came back to say "Hi!".
And for the next several hours - in fact, until a few hours before I started writing this - that was my routine.
Crash into bed. Be roused by my stomach. Bathroom. Back to bed.
Real People Sick (as opposed to diabetes-related not feeling good) is never pleasant, and it becomes downright scary for someone like me.
Am I going to run high or low, now that I've emptied my stomach? Can I force down some food if I get low? Will it stay down? Do I bolus for any part of it? Is this what dying feels like?
It's a dance I'll never quite learn all the steps to.