My Own Injection, Was It a Dream?

I woke up yesterday at 3 a.m. I wasn’t quiet sure if it was because I was having a low blood sugar or waking up from a bad dream.

The night then went something like this:

Partly awake, I muster myself to walk an obstacle course in the dark and try to feel my blood glucose meter. After finding my meter, I turn it on, put in my strip, lance my finger and then open my eyes to make sure the blood is on my strip. At this hour, 45 seconds seem like a lifetime.

Seconds before my meter was to give me my reading I hear a soft voice “Da Da up.” I try to ignore the sound, hoping that my son, Spencer, is sleep-talking but it gets louder and louder. I walk to his bedroom and glance in my son’s crib, only to see him sitting up in anticipation of my arrival. In the background I hear my meter beep to let me know it has completed its test. I pick up Spencer and stagger through the dark obstacle course of toys on the floor only to find that I am having a low blood sugar.

All of a sudden I am in a dilemma. Should I put my son down to treat my low blood sugar? If I do that I risk the chance of him waking up and thinking it’s play time which means it will take an additional hour for me to rationalize bedtime to him. After following this thought process, I realize that holding him while I treat my low blood sugar is a better option because as I hold him he might remain in his semi-sleep state.

I have Spencer balanced on my hip with one arm and the other opening the refrigerator to reach the orange juice. I pick up the pitcher, put it on the counter, and open the cabinet to reach for a glass. As I pour juice in the glass Spencer raises his head to say “Da Da drinking juice.” I nod my head and make a sound to acknowledge his statement. As I walk down the hall there is a fork to the different bedrooms. Once again I must make a judgment call. Should I put Spencer in his crib, or should I take him to my crowded bed where my wife and little 6-month-old girl are sound asleep? I try putting him back in his crib. It doesn’t work – he starts to cry.

All of a sudden my morning meetings flashed before my eyes and I begin to feel the stress of not having enough sleep. A crowded bed seems to be a smaller sacrifice than losing sleep. I pick him up and take him back to bed with me. Maybe Spencer needs a little contact with me because I was out of town for the weekend.

I woke up in the morning feeling a little stiff. I felt as if I had gone camping and forgotten my air mattress. Maybe it was that one position I slept in for four hours. Regardless, I needed my half decaf and half regular coffee to meet the day.

I tested my blood sugar before I had breakfast in order to estimate my insulin requirements. After taking my shot, I noticed Spencer lifting his shirt to mimic me taking my injection. I was glad I was not low again.

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