Finding the Silver Lining

My room lit up at 5:45 a.m.

A huge thunderclap shook the windows moments later.

So began my eighty-seventh thunderstorm since moving to New Jersey. No, really, I think we’re in the eighties now. Or at least the seventies. I had no idea the thing I would miss most about Oregon’s weather was the lack of thunderstorms. Especially when it comes to interfering with arriving home at a decent hour from a business trip (my flight back from Chicago was delayed for two hours… and that’s after the 1pm flight was canceled and the 4pm flight was delayed past our 6pm flight).

Waking up to the gods waging war in the skies with at least an hour and half - possibly longer - left to go before I actually had to get up for work left me a touch irritated. But as I lay awake in bed, rolling over, trying to block out the marching band outside my apartment, I began the instinctive mental systems check of my body - How do I feel? Am I thirsty? Does anything ache? What does my blood sugar “feel” like? Should I get out of bed? Am I okay?

I had to go to the bathroom.

Now, typically when I wake-up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom, my blood sugar is high. Like, scary high. Like, ohmythankgoddoctorbernsteinisn’theretoseethiscuzhe’dflipout kind of high. Not pretty.

But this time I was awake not because I had to go the bathroom, but because of the thunderstorm. And my blood sugar was low right before bed (because I managed to fall asleep at 7:30 and forgot to eat dinner). I had taken what I thought to be the right amount of insulin to cover my food. There shouldn’t really be a problem. I contemplated testing my blood sugar. I really did not want to get out of bed - to test or to go the bathroom. I was tired. It was frickin’ early in the morning.

And the thunder was really starting to get on my nerves.

Oh what the heck, I thought as I hopped out of bed. I’m already awake anyway and it’s not like the thunders stopping anytime soon.

Trotted off to the kitchen.

Plopped down on the dining chair.

Rubbed eyes.

Yawned.

Inserted test strip into meter.

Pricked finger once. Twice. Third time. Really must get new lancets. Squeeeeeeeze out the blood.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

409 mg/dl.

Aw, come on…

Drew up 9 units of insulin and stabbed my stomach. It’s been well over a month since I opened the bottle so that Lantus is definitely definitely dead. Like kaput. Out of commission. On permanent hiatus.

Time to visit the good old CVS pharmacy for some fresh bottles in the morning.

Of course, I’m also contemplating that my Humalog may have kicked the bucket as well. When I tested again two hours later this morning, I had only dropped a mere 120 points, ringing me in at 285 mg/dl.

Though once I took new Lantus and took five more units of Humalog, I managed to go low twice, once at mid-morning and once at lunch. And now, at the end of the workday, I’m at 193 mg/dl - though I’m thinking that may have more to do with me sneaking some Junior Mints (shh, don’t tell!).

The moral of the story: If you wake up in the middle of the night due to unwanted racket, it can’t hurt to test. You never know what it might teach you.

Unless of course it’s your carbon monoxide detector going off, in which case, you should call 911 and wait for Police Officer Mario to come and save you.

And no, he still hasn’t called. (I know you were thinking it.)