The weekend was wonderful. It was my first weekend off, and I took full advantage of it. The first thing I did: sleep in. What a sweet, blessed word. I went shopping for prom dresses with Joshua's sister Marleigh and her cousin Kelsey, took photos, went on a date out to dinner and to see The Hunger Games with Joshua Kuckuck, laughed so hard I cried, stayed up talking with the girls until 4 AM Saturday, and had a picnic Sunday with Joshua.
But I forgot to do something over the weekend, which was to buy snacks. I happened to be all out, and I'd found myself digging up old candy bars back from Halloween to shove into my purse and backpack just in case I happened to be low.
It made me aware of my vulnerability, all of a sudden.
With my meter, insulin and a snack at hand, I feel confident and in control of my life. I can handle Diabetes - it can't beat me.
But take away just one of those things, and suddenly, surviving Diabetes becomes part of an unwelcome game - one where I never know what to expect.
I found myself slightly afraid.
I've always been okay, but I've had close calls. Mid-Spanish class lows, or just yesterday, when Joshua and I went on a wonderful date to Indian Springs. We ate Subway, took pictures and had a great hike through the woods, and I figured I'd be fine, but was a little worried because I'd still forgotten that damn snack. I drove all the way back to Forsyth, but when we stepped into the house I felt a slight shake of hand and tested to find that I was at 44. We'd been in the middle of nowhere. What would have happened if we'd waited just a few minutes longer, stayed another hour, unknowing? The consequences could have been disastrous.
Today in Spanish we had out exam, and I still lacked my snack. I hoped, hoped, hoped I wouldn't be low during the Exam but knew that the time my Spanish Class was at was a trouble time for me. Surely enough, as soon as class began I felt the all-too familiar tingle, the shakiness, the weakness come over me. But I was petrified. No Professor would allow a student to just leave the class during a test. I was Diabetic, I argued. Maybe I had an exception. But I hadn't filed any paperwork or anything, hadn't been responsible enough to remember to bring a snack when I should have. It was my fault. Any change I had was in my room, so I'd have to beg for money or ask to go all the way back there, then back to the vending machine, to get a snack. I would interrupt everyone testing in the room. I might get failed on my exam if I chose to leave. I felt trapped, and so I pushed the low down to the bottom of my conscious, as far as it would go, and finished my test, although my concentration eluded me and my my mind was met with fuzziness where Spanish grammar and vocabulary was meant to be.
That afternoon, the first thing I did after class, work and volunteering was go to the store and buy some snacks. Popcorn and granola bars have never filled me with such comfort, security and a feeling of blanketed safety before. The term "comfort food' has taken on a whole new meaning.
Enjoyed reading this. Thankfully you didn't have to leave your exam! Hopefully your professor would have understood though. Perhaps you could let them know of the possibility of issues so that they'll be understanding if an issue ever arises.
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