Lows and Life

Tonight during bible study, I had a low.  I'm not sure how low my bg went, but it was low enough that I lost muscle control and was unable to speak more than grunting.  I had seizure-like shaking.  This is just one of the ugly sides of Type 1 diabetes.  It is embarrassing, to be unable to form words, even though your brain is shouting them.  Losing control of your arms and legs is scary  and disturbing for bystanders, especially the first time they see it.  I knew it was coming.  I felt it in time to go "hide" in the nursery. It is exactly like watching someone going through a seizure while conscious.  I started bawling because that is just what happens as my  emotions are as uncontrollable as my limbs.  My husband brought me a bottle of water, which I was unable to hold since I couldn't move my hands, let alone grasp something.  He had to hold it to my mouth so I could drink. My speech was choppy and hesitant: "I.......tried.......to.....uhgghh." I grasped the arms of my chair as tightly as I could to try to stop the shaking, to no avail...the chair just shook more violently.  This went on and on and on, despite a banana, protein bar and glucose tablets.  I couldn't believe the incompetence of my body.  I couldn't believe my friends had to see this ridiculous flesh acting so foolishly. It made me cry harder, my pride being stripped away. This is not me.  I tried to speak and the words wouldn't come. Frustrated and angry, I tried again to stop the incessant shaking.  Stupid body.  Stupid diabetes.  This isn't me. This isn't me.

And then it was over.  The glucose I had been given finally got to my brain. I regained control of my hands, then arms, legs, feet.  After a few minutes my speech returned, haltingly.  Sometimes it takes a while....there is a lag between the glucose in my bloodstream and the glucose that makes my brain function.  And that makes me insane.  I hate the loss of control.  I hate the feeling of being trapped in my body.  I hate not being able to speak. And I hate that my husband, friends, and daughters have to see me like this.  But this is diabetes.  This is the disease that turns a happy, vibrant, laughing, talkative woman into a paralyzed, convusing, babbling, sobbing mess. This is my disease, but it is not who I am.  This diabetes isn't me.