It was twenty minutes past ten. I knew that I would be stopping for morning tea within the next ten or twenty minutes. A scan of my Libre registered 4.6 and steady, and I gave a pre bolus for the hot cross bun that I was about to eat.
By the time I was seated at the table and buttering my toasted hot cross bun, my insulin pump registered that twenty minutes had passed since my bolus.
As I sat there in my seat, a weakness swept through me. An uncomfortable sweat broke out across the entirety of my upper body. The thought of getting up to wash my plate felt far too difficult, leaving me paralysed in my seat.
I eventually willed myself back up, made my way down the hall and sank into the chair behind my desk. A scan of my Libre registered 2.3 and slipping downwards. I didn’t have the energy to grab the meter that was in arms reach of me to double check. I was tempted to correct with a glucose tab, but I knew that the hot cross bun wouldn’t take long to bring my blood sugar back up.
As I slowly devoured about three quarters of the refreshing cold water in my drink bottle, the weakness began to subside and I began to reassess how I ended up here.
The 4.6 was bordering hypo territory, meaning that I didn’t have as much room for a pre bolus as I normally would. It was also a Libre scan, and a finger prick could have been as much as half or 1mmol lower. Add to that, I hadn’t eaten breakfast earlier because I wasn’t particularly hungry, which could have heightened my insulin sensitivity.
Most of the time, hypos don’t really stop me from what I’m doing. It’s usually nothing more than the odd glucose tab to ward off a downward trend arrow, sometimes more.
But paralysing moments like these? They remind me of just how much weight rests on the decisions that I have to make each and every day.