This morning I woke up exhausted. My blood sugar was 61. Entering the reader into my Dexcom resulted in a reading of Sensor Error 1. I injected and ate breakfast (two bowls of cereal). I knew I hadn't really eaten enough for my entire injection of breakfast but that the cereal would cover the first two or three hours of my shot. Maybe more- I've been insulin resistant lately. And I was exhausted. I lay down to take a nap. I mentioned to my folks that I was going to take a nap and therefore was not joining them on their way to the synagogue. My mother, jokingly, asked if I wanted a wake up call, and I said, if I was still asleep when they got back, they should try and wake me.
I had nightmares. I wasn't a person and everything was trying to kill me and I had only a little chance of living and everything was changing and I was going to die and I was very very very confused. At some point I became aware that I was, after all, in a human body, and that I was in bed. And my door was wide open and there was an empty juice box by my head and my Dexcom and blood sugar monitor were in bed with me when I knew that I'd left them on the table ('cause what good is a Dexcom reading Sensor Error 1?). It was 3 PM. I felt like shit and I was shivering and disoriented. I reviewed the numbers on my meter. There were three readings on my meter between 2:30 and 2:40 PM- a 39, a 103, and a 35. And God (or a voice, at any rate) spoke to me and said that they'd just saved my life. I said the blessing that struck me as appropriate at the moment (Blessed Are You, My Lord, King of the World, That Everything Became With Your Word.)
I checked my blood sugar. It was 46.
I grabbed my insulin and headed upstairs (I live in the same apartment building my parents do, three floors down from them). I asked my parents what had happened. Apparently, my mother came home from the synagogue at 2 PM. She knocked on my door and I didn't answer. So she figured I'd gone out, but she opened my door anyways and I was in bed. When she tried to wake me, I woke up enough to make a face and start talking nonsense. She went and got food and came back. When she came back, I was shaking all over and when she offered me food, I screamed and ran into her and pushed her out the door (no, I do not remember this). Then I went into my brother's room (which is next to mine) and slammed the door and went to his bed.
I was back in my bed. I didn't recognize my parents and asked them who they were. They checked my blood sugar but weren't really sure how to so it took them awhile. The 103 was my mother checking on herself. I'm not sure why they checked me twice. They got me a juice box and somehow got me to drink it. I sort of remember the juice box. They left me alone planning to come back in twenty minutes, but I came to and went upstairs myself in just under twenty minutes.
So. I used to think that I would never be one of those guys who gets violent while hypo. I've said before that hypos only make it harder to control yourself, not impossible. I take it back.
The number one predictive factor for a person to have a severe hypoglycemic episode is severe hypoglycemia in the previous week. And I actually did have an episode less than a week ago in which I woke up very confused and hallucinating, for the first time in about three years, and the third time ever, and my blood sugar wasn't even really low that time (it was in the 60s over the previous hour according to the Dexcom, and 72 according to my meter). I've been hypo to some extent pretty much every day this month, and most of the hypos did not happen from anything close to as stupid as what I did this morning.
I'm not sure what I should do going forward. My father wants to accrue more practice testing my blood sugar. I'm going to try to not take naps, and I'm going to set an alarm for overnight checks for the next week. I'm also going to run higher and try to avoid going below 90 or so for the next week, and not worry about highs below about 220. I'm putting in a new sensor tonight. I'm thinking about calling the endo.