Last night, we had friends over.
Last night, we had a lovely high carb dinner of pizza and brownies.
Last night, I passed out due to low blood sugar.
I tested my blood sugar around 11:30-12 last night and saw a scary 29 looking back at me. I ate 5 glucose tablets and went to the kitchen for a juice box. I got to the juice box in the kitchen, drank it and returned to the bedroom. I didn't make it. That's the last I remember.
Apparently, I fell and it made loud enough of a thud that it woke my husband up and caused the dogs to start barking. Apparently, I was talking to my husband, telling him I was low. Apparently, I ate several (more) of the glucose tablets he gave me and some of the juice he gave me. Apparently, he tried to test my blood sugar to find out how low I was. Apparently, I started fighting it. Apparently, I spit out the sugar he put between my lips and gums. Apparently because I don't remember any of this.
He called 911. He told them that his pregnant, type 1 diabetic wife had fallen and was unresponsive, due to low blood sugar. They told him they would send someone right away. He was afraid I wasn't going to make it.
They sent a fire truck and ambulance. I was told there were a total of 18 people at our house at one point, but I only saw the two that were there when I finally came to. Paramedics tried raising my blood sugar (from the 52 they recorded from when they got there) however they could, finally having to settle on an iv. According to my hands and my husband, they had a really hard time, but they did finally get one in and shot me full of dextrose (I think. That's what I was told anyways.). At some point, I started throwing up (including something blue, which, seriously? How? If you know me IRL, you know I don't eat blue foods.).
I remember thinking I was dreaming when I finally started coming around TWO HOURS LATER. These big guys I didn't know were standing in my laundry room, asking me questions (like did I know where I was, what was my birthday and if I knew the man standing next to them [I did. It was T.]). I was covered in vomit. My hands were covered in blood and one had an iv. They tested again and I was 140 something. They asked if I hurt. I said no. I stood for a while in my bathroom, shivering and disgustingly filthy, while they finished paperwork. A hot shower was such lovely thing to look forward to enjoying. They asked if I wanted to go to the hospital. I started to say no, but then wondered if I should for the baby. They thought I could just call the dr today and see what he thought. So I didn't go to the hospital.
I am fine now, just sore. Last night certainly scared me and I know it scared my husband. If it weren't for him, I'd be a blue candle (any time a life is lost to diabetes, parents of children with diabetes - and diabetics themselves, change their profile pic to an image of a blue candle). He saved my life. He saved the life we created together. Without him..... I don't even want to think about it.