Bungee Jumping

I pulled my head out from underneath my over sized pillow. I felt like I'd just finished an Iron Man. My mouth tasted like I'd been chewing on cow manure. My hair was a sweaty mess both clinging to my head and standing out at odd angles. All of this due to my blood sugar bungee jumping without my permission.
I grabbed my cell to see how late in the day it was, but my roommate beat me to the punch.

"It's four." She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Crap, Work was at ten!” my voice came out like gravel.

I flipped open my phone and scrolled down until I found Information Alliance in my contacts and called in to let them know I was sick and not coming in. Next I called Carl's Jr.

I felt and still feel unreliable. I wonder if anyone else has had to do this or if most would just go in anyway.

"Man, Jess, you sound awful."

"I feel awful. I wonder what my BS is sitting at now?"

I grabbed my meter.

168. Not bad. For me anyway.

I scrolled through the history. The last entries read 386, 86, and 50. Like I said earlier, bungee jumping.

At about seven I had woken up shaking like a fall leaf. My heart was pounding at around 200 M.P.H. I grabbed my meter and stabbed my finger like five times before I actually pushed hard enough to draw blood. I had to lay my hand on my lap so I could hold my trembling hand still enough to catch the blood into the meter.... 50.

I unsteadily stood and leaned against the wall as I made my way out of my room and into the kitchen. I sat in front of the cupboard and reached into my stash of root beer under the sink. I cracked open a can and drained it. I only needed about a third of the can but I was in panic mode. (Going low is not something I do very often. Usually I'm soaring in the clouds. I hate to admit it but my 30-day average is around 250. It's awful, I know, and I'm working on it.)

So as my heart pulled off the racetrack and my hands stilled, I took my blood sugar again. 86. I felt safe to go to bed now.

Next thing I know, I'm prying my sticky eyes open to the distant sound of my cell phone alarm going off. As I sat up it felt like my head was in vise grip and about to float away. I grabbed the meter off the nightstand and watched while the test strip sipped up the blood and considered it, yet again.... 386. Grr. I pulled up a syringe with 9 units and jabbed it in my side. I promptly dropped back into the bed and shoved my head under my pillow. The light barging in the window was killing my head.

While I slept the second time, I had some of the most disturbing nightmares I've had in a long while. The nightmares mostly centered on my best friend whom I shall refer to as Malchik. He had succeeded in a suicide attempt. And I still hadn't had the chance to see him since he withdrew from school and went back home in October. This guy means the world to me and I'm so scared that I might lose him.

After I had called into work and checked my BS, I started to quietly cry. I still felt the terror of losing my friend; I was still exhausted from my bungee jumping and I felt downright guilty for missing work.

Some days I really hate blood sugar. I think it needs to personified and shot. In the gut. Repeatedly.