When My Low Blood Sugar’s Aren’t “Fine”
Usually when I’m hypoglycemic, I tell the people around me that it’s alright, I’ll be fine. Most of the time that is true, to be fair. If I’m at work, I tell my boss and whoever else needs to know that I’m going to be gone for a few minutes, I come back, and it’s all good. It’s fine.
I don’t typically have extreme low blood sugar symptoms, fortunately. Most of the time I get a little shaky, stumble on my words a bit, and just generally feel off—I don’t know how to explain that feeling, but I know it when it happens. Every once in a while my lips and tongue will go numb, or I’ll get hot out of nowhere. Most of the time, I can manage.
However, sometimes my body reminds me that I’m not as in control of my condition as I like to think I am.
Sometimes I feel fine until my blood sugar drops and I have brain fog so intense I can barely text my mom to explain what’s going on. Sometimes I wake up in the morning drenched in sweat and unable to check my blood sugar because I can’t seem to figure out how to work my meter. Sometimes I wake up feeling some kind of out-of-body feeling and completely unaware of what’s going on around me.
Sometimes it’s really scary. Sometimes it’s hard.
I have a hard time talking about these harder aspects of life with diabetes, mostly because I have very few people I can talk to about them who actually get it. Anyone can say oh that sounds tough, I’m sorry, and that can go along way, and my family (excluding my brother who is also T1D) is a fantastic support system that I’m grateful to have, but it’s difficult to put things into words in a way a non-diabetic can truly understand. You can only see the physical impact of diabetes, not the mental impact.
Diabetes is unpredictable. Sometimes a blood sugar of 60 is barely noticeable, other times 75 feels like death. You can do everything right and still have highs and lows. I’m getting better at not blaming myself for the numbers I can’t control. My body isn’t built to do what it needs to do, and while I can support it, I can’t do everything.
If you’re dealing with something similar with your own health, know that I see you and am rooting for you. Keep going, it’s worth it.
—Abbie
