As the world slowly begins to make sense again, I look around and become aware. I don't remember really getting here, in this semi rigid position. There's glucose dust on my pants where I usually rest the tablets in a line. If I snorted coke it would be akin to that. Neatly laid out glucose tablets that help me consume one by one. Carefully placed in quantities of 2. I don't eat them out of the bottle because I can't count or pay attention when I'm low. I remove said precious life giving sugar tablets and line them up on my thighs. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. It's a bad low. A six tablet low.
I wait rather impatiently for the glucose to get into my body and work it's magic so I can get on with my day. How long has it been?
But the dust is a reminder that things are not always okay. They will be better, but at a moments notice, there I am with a blood sugar of 2.4mmol/l (43mg/dl). I know this because no matter how low and out of it I am, I always test. I may not remember testing. I do this so I know how many glucose tablets I need. If it's a 3.0mmol/l (54mg/dl) well that's only 4 tablets. 6 would make me rebound high for sure.
As the push puppet I am while low, the world slowly starts coming back to me and I get on with what I was doing before.
Beets boiling on the stove. At least I had half the mental capacity to turn the heat down, grab the glucose tabs and collapse on the couch.
Brush off the dust.
Back to reality. Back to the beets. As if nothing interrupted my life. Only the post low nausea to remind me.