Slice, empty and flatten.

Slice, empty and flatten.

Slice, empty and flatten.

I was slicing open cardboard boxes at work yesterday, but my mind was well and truly elsewhere. It was just gone midday, and I was in a daze.

I could hear the sound of the fan, making more noise than what the air it was blowing back at me was worth. I could hear the whining sound of the cardboard press, groaning back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I could hear the sound of vehicles passing by from the open roller door looking out onto a miserable, grey autumn day.

I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead, starting to trickle down the side of my face. I felt ever so warm, and desperately wanted to take my shirt off.

I felt weak. I was standing, barely. I leant heavily onto the table where I was working, half expecting my muscles to give in at any moment.

I felt light headed. I was yawning, constantly. My brain wasn’t functioning properly. I couldn’t connect what I was doing with the next action I needed to take.

The thought every action in itself felt like an ordeal. I didn’t know where I would find the energy to will my body to make its next movement.

Slice, empty and flatten.

Slice, empty and flatten.

Slice, empty and flatten.

I was fighting against every fibre of my being to keep going. My body was ridden with exhaustion. I so desperately wanted to give in and sprawl out on the cold, hard concrete floor.

My mouth was bone dry. Robbed of all it’s glorious moisture, and replaced with the sickly residue of processed sugar. I was desperate for a drop of water, anything to rid that horrid aftertaste of a hypo treatment.

The fact was that I’d treated a hypo a little less than 15 minutes ago. A hypo that I wasn’t expecting. A hypo that I had no explanation for. A hypo that knocked the wind out of me and turned a relatively good day sideways.

A hypo isn’t necessarily over after I’ve shoved 15g of carbs down my throat. A hypo isn’t necessarily over 15 minutes after it happened. And a hypo isn’t necessarily over by the time my meter produces a reading over the number 4.0.

Some days, it feels like a hypo can last a whole lot longer.

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3 thoughts on “Daydreaming

  1. I am with you on Hypos lasting longer than we give them credit. UUUgh I had one that seemed to last for hours. Oh wait, that was a college basketball game where my favorite team was defeated. Oh well.

    I referred your blog to the TUDiabetes blog site for the week of April 11, 2016.

  2. When i was on long acting insulin and using short acting insulin for bolus doses, i had episodes of what you describe. When you have a background long acting insulin, with no way of knowing exactly how much active insulin is in the background it can cause these types of hypo’s. The good news is that when you start on the pump, you will be able to tell exactly how much active insulin is in your body, as the pump has a read out on this. So when you are hypo you are much better able to calculate the carbs you need, given you are only on short acting insulin, no hidden background insulin sneaking up on you. Not long now.

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