Not a Good Top Five
I’ve alluded to it in the past but I realized I never wrote about it. I haven’t been able to get this low out of my head. As I was talking with a friend I told her that this is one of my top five bad diabetes moments of my life. And I can’t get it out of my goddamn head lately. It’s been nearly a year, and I think about that night most days.
It was a water polo game, and I was still a newbie. I’m pretty sure some of my teammates already knew I had diabetes, because I had to ask one to fix the tubing in my bathing suit. Quick recap: 9 people per team in the pool at a time, at least 3 girls and 3 guys at all times. We only had 3 girls that night, meaning we couldn’t switch out. I lowered my basal and hoped for the best. I got in the pool and prayed that another girl would show up. No one showed up. Towards the end of the game I started to feel low. I stayed in the pool (we are in inner tubes, but this was not a smart decision). I kept going, and going full speed. I didn’t want to let my team down. I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t know how they’d react if I had to get out of the water, and leave them a a man short because of diabetes. There were so many things I didn’t want, but the one thing I needed was to get out of the pool. Our game was over and I jumped out of the pool as fast as my sluggish body could move. I dried off and tested, without shaking everyone’s hands, and was in the 30s. I don’t remember what I ate, but I ate and ate and ate and ate. (I’m guessing airheads.)
I couldn’t drive yet. I didn’t even know if I could walk to the bar. I couldn’t stay at the gym by myself though. So I walked. I literally wanted to grab the arms of the people next to me and hold on. I was so shaky. We got to the bar and I sat. We don’t normally sit. We stand and mingle and talk to as many people as possible. I couldn’t move. I kept checking my Dex waiting for the blood sugar to come up, but it just kept yelling that I was low. Still. Nothing was helping. Friends sat down and asked how I was doing. I remember grumbling something about never staying in again. And being completely out of it. It started conversations about diabetes, and they lasted for hours. I had never stayed that late. How was I still low?
Was I going to come up?
What if I was still low when the bar closed?
How would I get home?
What about my car?
I couldn’t vocalize these thoughts. I couldn’t let these new people know how terrifying diabetes could be. Even though they could physically see it. I couldn’t let them in to the mental part of it. I needed some sort of grace. I needed to leave and not be embarrassed. I was mortified. How could this monster show up and ruin this new, amazing, fun part of my life. As the lights came on I tested and I was barely over 100. I drove home, with more sugar waiting in my lap just in case.
I got home and wrote.
I still think about this night and it still scares me. I know I made the wrong choice, and when the same situation occurred again, I got out of the pool. I don’t know why this particular night haunts me every day, but it does.