Monday, October 20, 2008

Bawling Lows

So last night I had one of those wonderful very public lows while I was working.

I had been a little funky so I tested, came up 60. So I went over and bought myself a cookie to take care of that.

My manager came over and asked me to go to the sales floor to help them out since they were so short. I was kinda having trouble talking but I said, "I-I just had a... low blood sugar... I'll be good in a sec, do you mind if I take my meter and juice with me?" I asked as I pulled them from the door greeter cupboard.

She replied with a bit of irritation, "Actually, I do mind, you can just leave those there and go, thank-you."

So I put them back in mumbling kind of incoherently about my low blood sugar. I was kind of struggling to string two thoughts together. After a bit of my mumbling she finally understood a little of what I was trying to say. She asked me if I was having "sugar troubles".  That coupled with the fact that I was low and that she had grumpily told me I couldn't have my meter and juice with me set me to tears.

Ugh, I hate going low. Usually a low robs me of my ability to talk, walk and much of anything else at least for a few minutes, but this one was worse than usual for some reason. (Might have had something to do with forgetting to eat all day.)

But here I was sobbing in front of my manager, who instantly started apologizing for upsetting me as I attempted to explain what was wrong. I was trying to explain that I had eaten the cookie and I should be fine in just a few minutes, but I was still low and how embarrassed I was that I was just bent over one of the registers bawling for no apparent reason. Eventually she figured out my mumbling well enough to ask if I was diabetic. I nodded and she instantly understood. But that did nothing to save my poor dignity. It took me a good five minutes before I could finally control my tears. 

She told me that if I needed, I could definitely come back and grab my meter or my juice if I needed, but she'd rather I leave them at the cupboard by the door while I went to the sales floor.

After my shift, I went back to her to apologize and explain why I had acted the way I had. I wanted to explain it while my BS was within a normal range. She said she understood, but nobody had told her that I was diabetic. I could have sworn I made it a point to tell all of the managers that I was diabetic. But I guess I had missed her, or she hadn't remembered. So she and another manager asked me that I come in early today to fill out some medical papers documenting my diabetes. They say for reasons of an emergency, such as if I ever pass out on them, they have all my information to give to the ambulance.

So I'll probably be heading down to do that soon. But man, I haven't been that irritated and embarrassed in a while. Last night I just curled up with Sweet Guy for a little while, telling him how much I wish I could just get rid of diabetes. I hate lows, with a fiery, burny passion. And some days, I  really hate being diabetic.

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