"I feeel soooooooo terrrrrrrrrrrible."
I could tell he was low by the way the "e's", the "o's", and the "r's" were drawn out and by the tone and pitch of his voice. It was 1:28am. Joe was stumbling into my room and climbing on top of me as I woke to his entrance. I released myself from the heap of Joe and hurried to his room to grab the glucometer.
He was moaning, saying it was a "bad one".
He was 50. The low was treated. Afterwards, Joe did not want to leave my bed. "My body won't work". I offered to carry him back to his bed, but the thought of that made him just groan and roll-over. He was on my side of the bed. I retreated to the guest room. Another alarm was set for 2am. Another alarm was set to ensure his blood sugar was in a safe range.
When he woke the following morning...
"That was a bad one mom; not a normal low. I don't get them often. But when I do ... I feel like I am a 20-something. That was what I call a double low."
I questioned, "A double low?"
"Yep, that is what I call those. I have only had a couple, but they are the really terrible, awful ones."
A day-in-the-life of understanding diabetes through my son's perspective.