It was a Sunday night. I was 17 (or 18) weeks pregnant (depending on whose pregnancy wheel or ultrasound you trust). We had some friends over for dinner, as is our usual custom, and I rolled up some hearts of palm in flattened chicken breasts. I made a corn, black bean and tomato salad for the side, and we had fried plantains to go with it. Yum.
Two hours after dinner, I checked my blood sugar and it was a jaw-dropping 34. Not what I expected after such a large meal, but I assumed I just gave too much insulin (which I am prone to do when I am pregnant and I eat generously). I drank some juice.
I was downstairs, sitting at the computer, checking Facebook and sending some e-mails when...
Oh, wow. Um, that was unexpected.
I finally got it cleaned up, came back upstairs, and an hour after I checked before, my blood sugar was a shocking 30.
Now, at this point, you are probably thinking to yourself, "Oh, shoot. Her stomach wasn't absorbing any of the food she'd eaten over the last 3 hours because she had a horrible, nasty stomach bug that would take her down for the next 36 hours." If my blood sugar hadn't been 30, I might have thought the same. Instead, I tried drinking more juice.
I hopped in the shower, which ended up becoming a bath in a hazy low-blood-sugar-confusion. I think I may have briefly passed out because I don't remember some of what happened in said bath, but I do remember thinking that I might fall down several times. I think that's why I turned it into a bath, so I wouldn't have to stand up. And then...
At this point, you are probably thinking, "Your guardian angel must really like you, because natural selection clearly should have selected you OUT by now. What were you THINKING getting into a slippery shower, much less running a BATH, when your blood sugar was dangerously low?" If my blood sugar hadn't been 30, I might have thought the same thing. And believe me, I've cried many tears since thinking how stupid it was to draw up a vat for myself to drown in.
Instead, I barely managed to throw the bath mat into the tub, throw some towels on the smelly floor, and check my blood sugar and lo and behold, it was 20.
I don't think my blood sugar has EVER been that low before. And if it ever has been, I probably wasn't conscious to remember it, much less dealing with it on my own.
At this point, you are probably thinking, "Well it's at least a good thing you were in the shower so your pump was not connected to you for a while. You'll want to suspend your pump for a little while, or at least put it on a temporary bolus of zero for a couple hours until you can wake up and figure out whether you can eat anything to bring it back up. And for goodness sake, wake someone up to help you, and maybe call an ambulance." I might also have thought of those things if my blood sugar hadn't been 20. So what I did instead was drink some more juice (not sure why I hadn't figured out that the juice wasn't...oh wait, I know...my blood sugar was 20) and passed out in bed. By now, it was 11:30, approximately 2 hours after my blood sugar first showed up at 34.
At 3:30 in the morning, I roused again, got up out of bed, and ran to the kitchen sink, holding the vomit in my mouth to keep it off the floor. My blood sugar was at least up to 51 (since when has that ever been a victory?!). I think I drank more juice.
I was mostly awake lying in bed the rest of the night, and finally dozed off at about 6:30am. My husband, saintly man that he is, stayed home with the kids so I could sleep in. I still felt like death the rest of the day, and of course my blood sugar went to the opposite extreme during the course of the morning (278 at its highest).
The good news, however, is that I survived and apparently the baby survived, because he or she is still kicking at regular intervals. The moral of the story, however, is that I am an idiot when my blood sugar is low.
I hate being pregnant during stomach bug season.