Today’s Prompt: Be present. Describe something peaceful with as much sensory imagery as you can. What are the sights, sounds, scents, and feelings?
There are moments you want to savor, when you tell yourself to remember it all because you'll never be here again. And some moments where being present is miserable. You want to crawl out of your skin and slink away.
I've been dealing with the latter most of the day. So this prompt has been looming over me all day. I've felt it mocking me around every corner: "Be present."
As I write this, I hear my precious angel howling for Mama in the bathtub, her daddy trying so hard to console her. She so rarely cries. But she's tired. We're all tired.
My intention was to take it easy today. (I hear her giggling now. Daddy succeeded.)
Anyway, we are all recovering from illness. And something is up with my blood sugars. I miscalculated my lunch dosage and suffered a low blood sugar - for the next 4 fucking hours.
For those of you without D, let me explain. (She's crying again.) A low blood sugar is a draining, life-threatening occurrence that generally takes you out of commission...for about 20-30 minutes. You eat a little glucose and you come back to normal and continue as you were. It's no big deal most of the time and we hate when people hound us the rest of the day as though we broke a limb. I have 2 or 3 lows everyday. It's life.
Not for four straight hours though. Not treating it again and again. I started modestly. 5 glucose tabs. I was full from lunch. Half an hour later, 4 more. Etc, etc. Then I started in with juice. Glass after glass. Feeling so bloated - between being huge with pregnancy, full with food and juice and glucose, queasy from a stomach virus, uncomfortable from the little person inside me doing fetal acrobatics.
More glucose tablets, glucose powder sticks, more juice. In hour four, a banana. At some point, I reduced my basal insulin by 50%. A phone call to my mother. "Call me every 20min." 20 minutes passed. Mom called. I had her drive over until my husband could get home. A fine dusting of glucose stick powder covers my bedroom and clothes.
Pictured here is my 11am-5pm. The lower dotted line indicates where 70 mg/dL is.
Lows usually feel awful - they're scary, you're disoriented, you're vulnerable. But the recovery is sometimes worse. Like a hangover. Your body rocked from suddenly skyrocketing out of the depths. You're wiped, like you've been hit by a bus. Your body is trying to find center again. Only you don't know where the rise will level out.
I feel awful tonight. Couldn't skip dinner even though the thought of food makes me want to vomit. If I don't eat, it's just going to hit again. So I choked down a peanut butter sandwich, v e r y slowly.
Endo appointment tomorrow. I anticipate a lot of tweaking. Dr. M is going to be really concerned that I've had three persistent lows like this in the last three days. We will make some adjustments, but I won't know if they were successful until after the holiday feasting on Thursday, I'm sure.
My angel daughter doesn't understand why I just need to lay down without her climbing over my enormously distended belly right now. I hear her crying. I know she is safe and just wants to love on me. She's with daddy. She's okay. They're reading her favorite books. I managed her all day, even at my grossest. Made sure she was well-fed, changed, cuddled, entertained.
But I just need a few minutes. I can't be with her right this second. I can't be present. I just need to lay still until I feel level again. Trying to tell myself I'm owed a minute. That even Wonder Woman takes off the bangles to go to bed.
This post was written as part of NHBPM - 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J.