Ruined Lie-in

I was woken by R.

"You're going off, babe."

I could hear the screeching siren of a long ignored alarm on my Medtronic pump, muffled somewhat by the fact that it was buried underneath my stomach. Extricating it roughly and unwrapping the tubing from around my body, I glanced at the screen.

LOW 2.6 (45)

"I'm low" I mumbled. I reached across to get my testing kit, but it seemed to take a monumental effort. I let the black nylon case fall on to my chest, unopened.

"Babe."

No response.

"Babe, you were going to do a test." He digs me in the ribs. "Come on babe."

Several minutes later, the low confirmed, juice grabbed from the window sill and my blood glucose beginning the slow upward climb, R is drifting gently back to sleep.

"Seven thirty seven" I say, to no one in particular.

"Seven thirty seven?" mumbles R. "What's seven thirty seven?"

"Too early to be awake on a Sunday morning when we've got nothing in particular to do with the day" I respond. "Damn low blood sugar, ruining my lie in."

Comments

[Sandra Miller]

Oh Caro... damn low blood sugar, indeed.