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Train Wreck.

Kerri, Chris, and some juice.Running late for the train, as usual, I leaned in to the mirror and applied my mascara with shaking hands.  Noticed I was sort of weaving as I stood there.  I tried to pick up my comb but my fingers were too clumsy and the comb clattered to the floor.

“Chris?  Hey Chris?  Do you mind grabbing my meter?”

I hear his footsteps coming down the hall and the distinct “zii-iiip” of the black meter case being opened.

“Here, baby.”

Prick my finger.  Feed the little blood-hungry machine. 

48 mg/dl.  For some reason, just seeing the number makes me feel lower.

“Hey now…” Chris responds.  “Juice?”

I nod.

He comes back with a glass full of the all-natural juice we bought at Trader Joe’s.  Having every intention of eating healthy, we purchased this pomegranate, cranberry, and blueberry blending while thinking, “Well, if you have to drink juice to treat a reaction, may as well make it the healthiest possible juice!” 

Note to readers:  The Trader Joe’s all-natural juice tastes like garbage.  It is sort of bitter and thick and was almost unchuggable, making it difficult to choke down eight sips.  I will never buy it again.

I drained the glass, taking breaks between sips to say, “Blech, this stuff tastes horrendous!”

We have to leave in two minutes, so I try and gather up my things while coming up from the low.

“You’d better drive.  I’m feeling odd still.”

In the car, I start shaking.

“I’m not up yet.”   My voice sounds hollow and like it's not coming from my head.

Chris takes the Capri Sun from the center console of my car and hands it to me.

“Drink this, Kerri.”

Drained it.  I press my hands to my head, to keep my sense from flying out.

Car parked.  Buy tickets.  Waiting for the train.

“I feel crummy, baby.  I really don’t feel well at all.”  He takes my hand.  A homeless woman walks through the crowded platform, yelling, “All you fat bitches can’t spare some change to get me some food?  Just some food?  I need to eat.  I need to eat to survive.”

The iron arches above where are sitting are catching my panicked breaths as they escape, forming icicles of fear above my head.

“You okay?  The train is coming.  Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”  I’m trying to force my head to unfog and take control of my body.  Knees weak, eyes tearing up.  My tongue lays thick in my mouth.

The train roars through.  We board.

I test again.  57 mg/dl.

“Fifty-seven?  You haven’t come up much at all.  How about some glucose tabs?”

I chew on the grape-flavored glucose tabs from the depths of my purse, their violet dust collecting on my gloves.  Close my eyes and pretend I’m sleeping so no one sees my tears of frustration.

“It’s okay, Kerri.  It’s okay.  You’ve had a ton of juice.  You’ll come up soon.  It’s okay.” 

While he’s right, it’s hard to hear him from the bottom of this well.  I started the day with a 4 am low, over-treating myself up to a ripe 398 mg/dl, spending the day high as the proverbial kite, and now crashing back down to these lows again.

“I was 198 for about an hour today, you know.”  I said to no one in particular.

“Test again, Kerri.”

106 mg/dl.  Finally on the climb.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, 106.”  I start to smirk out of sheer relief.  I laugh.  My voice sounds like mine again.  “I feel stupid.”

“No baby, you’re not stupid.  You were just low.”

“No, I mean I feel stupid, like I killed some brain cells with this one.”

So damn tired now.  My deviation for the day spanned several hundred points.  I felt embarrassed and annoyed with this disease. 

Conveniently enough, I was en route to Divabetic in N YC.  I was looking forward to the pick me up.  (A full report on Divabetic coming to dLife next week.) 


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Oh Kerri! I hate those stubborn ones, they are absolutely scary. I am so glad you are better and that you had Chris with you. Here is to better numbers.

Aw Kerri, I hate how these lousy lows drag you down like that. I can just imagine the panick you feel trying to climb out of the low....like you're caught rolling in a wave and can't get a gasp for air (that's how I imagine it would be at least).

Oh, Kerry. We had the same day in different states and I want to give you a "I totally get it hug." Mine started at 1 am with a 510 due to a faulty site, and ended with a string of 60s and 70s that stayed that way only due to coke. I'm sorry you want through the same junk, too.

I know that "Like I think I killed some brain cells with this one," feeling, Kerri.

God, how crappy. Ugh.

I hear ya! I woke up at 54 (and yes seeing it made me feel lower) Had some juice.. 58. Ridiculously undercovered breakfast .. still 61 two hours later after the walk to work. WTF? Where is my liver?

On the healthy juices: I drink cranberry-pomegranate from Whole Foods. It's pretty delish if you want to switch after the Trader Joe's unchuggable :)

I'm sorry Kerri. But, the optimistic side of me says, tomorrow will be better.

Have a great weekend!

The big problem with Hypoglycemia is that even when we "catch it in time", they do not go up as fast as we like. So there is always a tendency to overtreat our low blood sugars.
BTW, as you now know, not everything at Trader Joe's taste good.

Oh Kerri, you are not at all alone on this one...these times are the reason for my ugly panic attacks. It's like we are in a race with our freakin' insulin! Glad you got through it.

I didn't quite catch the Welch's grape juice in your graphic when I flipped to here briefly during work today.

But now that I look at it again, I realize how much I don't "catch it" here at home, even though it is nearly a constant for Greg's sake. It's that familiar. Too familiar.

and that's what the reaction is to what you wrote - too familiar.

They can really just knock the wind out of you sometimes can't they.

I too totally relate to the "Like I think I killed some brain cells with this one," thing.

Made me chuckle with recognition.

I am so sorry Kerri - I am repeating myself. I hate to see you have such a hard time. I was raised on juice for hypos. Please, please try coke! I promise you I will not say this to you again - but please try it. Maybe it will not help you get out of hypos more quickly, but maybe it will. For ME it made a huge difference. Pls send me an email and tell me if coke did help! 1/2C coke = about 11 carb..... my measurements are all in ml so I have tried to convert to cup measurements for you.

Such stubborn lows really drain you. Good thing you had Chris by your side. I really hate when I experience such reactions being by myself. If they are to happen I sure prefer that be when Jimmi is around. It sort of comforts me to know that he knows what it is all about and is able to take action if needed.

That sounds nasty. I would have lost all control and ate so many carbs and gone up the other way. I hate those situations. Your boyfriend is a star!!!

R.W. Knudsen makes some great organic juices. I bet they have them at Trader Joe's.

I can only hope that, when she's old enough to fall in love, my daughter can find someone as great as your sweetie. Well, I hope there's a cure before then, but....a guy like yours for her would be fabulous even after a cure. Does he have any much younger brothers? :)
I hope you're feeling better today. I haven't felt it myself, but reading your blog I can almost get the idea of what those horrible lows feel like. Meg doesn't seem to feel them yet - as scary as it is when she walks around functioning at 50 or lower (and it scares the bejeezus out of me when I see that on the meter) - I'm glad she doesn't seem to feel as lousy as you did. Unfortunately, she's going to have to learn to feel them unless she wants me trailing her around for the rest of her life...or until she finds her future Chris! :)

What has really occured to me after reading about your hypos is that they all seem to have their own "personality." The same goes for Demarco. My precious 6 year old can be most cooperative and almost charming at 1.9mmol, spitting juice and swinging punches at 2.3mmol,silent and eerie at 3.5 mmol, in floods of tears for 45 mins over something-so-insignificant that-I-can't-even- remember what-it-was-about48hrs later at 4.5mmol or just a little sullen and withdrawn at 5 mmol.
On Sunday, I had juice dripping through my hair and sprayed all over the sofa and the cat, as Demarco kicked and battled and lashed out at me as I raced against the clock deciding-honey/juice combo or glucagon? Luckily for him, he was able to evade the glucagon. The slightly funny element of this story was, after almost getting my finger severed by his clenched teeth as I applied honey to the inside of his cheek, after he had recovered, he said "Gosh Mum, I really feel like a honey sandwich. Can I have like, heaps of them?" Our friend the hypo. Always reliably unreliable. K8

Hi Kerri,

So very frustrating! I know when that happens to me I’m always glad when there is someone around to help me out, or to give me a hug when the tears come out. Your boyfriend sounds like a complete star. I’m lucky that mine is so understanding as well. While non diabetics may not 'get it' completely, the support means the world.


Kerri. You are so beautiful, inside and out. You seem to come from a long line of love. You are sharing your home and all with a super guy. When is the wedding?

I'm a big fan of the mini-sized gatorades. they have 22 g of carb that is mostly glucose so it tends to work pretty quickly without tasting like chalk. Somewhat higher on the carb level though.

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