Hitting a Low

Today was crappy.  I woke up when Dante did at TEN F-ING FIFTEEN AM and took my fasting blood sugar like a good monkey.  Made breakfast, and after my first bite, remembered my meds and took them.  I was pleasantly surprised when I had a glucose level an hour later of 134, and put Dante back to bed.  Then I decided that I needed a nap, too, so I took one.

Woke up about an hour and a half later sweating and shaking.  I had a horrible nightmare that just kept repeating over and over again.  I got up and Dante was screaming, but my hands were shaking, and I realized it was my blood sugar.  I could barely walk, my eyes couldn't focus, and I snapped.  First I tried to eat crackers, but then I saw Hubby's cookies, and I grabbed a handful and a huge glass of milk.  Before I downed the cookies and milk, my glucose was at 67.  Too damn low, in my book.  I had to let my poor baby scream for 45 minutes as I tried to get back to normal.  At the 45 minute mark, I took my blood sugar and it was 119.  What in the...?

So I got Dante up and called my doc's office, and her medical assistant called me back, I told her what happened, and she suggested peanut butter to get me back to normal as opposed to cookies.  About an hour later, I felt it plummet AGAIN.  So Dante and I polished off a whole small cantaloupe and I had a ham sandwich, and I was ok again.  He went down for another nap, and I felt it slip for a third time, so I toasted a freezer waffle and dipped it in peanut butter.  I'm now wide awake, sore, and I feel like a zombie.  It's very weird.

So now I get to reheat what I made for dinner last night (Mole and rice) and I may call it an early night.  Not like it matters.  I wake up every two hours like clockwork to hit the loo and the Tums.  It's horrible.  I know it's training, but I really think it's Mother Nature's way of telling me that it sucks to be me.  Grrr.

I'd rather be sleep deprived cuddling a cute baby than sleep deprived and waddling to the loo.  Maybe I'm weird.