I stir in my sleep. Not like stirring on a fresh morning, after a relaxing night’s sleep. But rather stirring, as a result of nocturnal discomfort.
I open my eyes and squint at the bright red display of the clock radio sitting beside my bed, which reads 2.12am.
I feel hot. I’m not sweating. I simply feel hot. Mostly in my face. You could feel it in my face, for sure.
My mouth feels like the Sahara desert. It’s dry. And salty. It’s nauseating. I so badly want a drink of water, but can’t be bothered getting up and out of my bed.
I desperately need to go to the bathroom, but at the same time don’t want to budge from my bed. Discomfort wins out. I drag myself out from my bed, and into the hallway.
I stumble through the dark, not wanting to switch on any lights. I don’t want my eyes to adjust to the light, otherwise I’ll never get back to sleep. I don’t want my blood sugar levels to get any whiff of light either, and begin triggering dawn phenomenon before morning has even arrived.
I emerge from the bathroom. I grab a glass from the kitchen cupboard, and a bottle of water from the fridge. I pour the cold water into my glass, and slowly begin to relive my mouth of it’s revolt. I could easily go for another. But common sense wins out here, knowing that I have no inclination to budge from my bed for another bathroom break until morning.
I slip back into bed. I toss and turn, My eyes are closed, but my mind has zero inclination of nodding off. I suddenly have the urge to rip the light green blanket from my bed, despite feeling cold when I tucked in several hours ago. I want to turn the fan on, but I know I’ll probably be shivering by the time I wake up. My pillow feels more like a heat pack than a pillow. I flip it over, hoping that the cooler side of it will help me ease into a sleep once again.
It’s nearing 3am, and I can’t believe that I’ve been awake for a whole hour.
Do I get up and watch some early morning television in the sitting room adjacent to mine? Do I switch on my bedside lamp, and grab a really boring book? Do I stay here in the dark, continuing this pathetic attempt at sleep for a while longer? Or is it time to begin counting sheep?
This, is what hyperglycemia feels like.
Restaurant food does it to me nearly every time.