Danger. - Emma.

A reading of 115 was a pleasant surprise 2 hr post lunch BG, after having forgotten to bolus for lunch until 30 mins after I ate. One hour later, a BG of 102 felt a tiny bit low for being about to walk a couple of miles to my bus, especially when I realised I was on the wrong basal pattern - I should have had 0.00u/h for the past 2 hrs, but I had in fact gotten 0.25u/h. Feeling in my pocket, I had only 50p left. I bought a packet of starbursts, thinking that I could eat 15 carbs now to make up for the extra basal and being lower than I'd like, and have 15 carbs "spare" for an emergency. I'd finished my other food earlier.

Walking out of school, with one of my best friends, I was happy. We were laughing together about something stupid, diabetes was just ticking away at the back of my mind, but it wasn't a worry. She mentioned something about how I was acting crazy, but I do that a lot. Heck, I'm a crazy person. We reached the cross-roads where we separate from each other, and stopped, standing on the corner and finishing our conversation. It was cold out, but sunny, and I had 20 minutes until I had to get to my bus stop; it felt like an age. I decided to check my BG, disconnected and separated from everything. Seeing the 46 on the meter, I felt the muscles in my legs feel like they were slipping away from my body, but I didn't let it show. Hugging my friend goodbye, I walked away, alone, on the way to my bus stop. I was dizzy and completely separated, but it was a little game I was playing with myself: I couldn't let it show. I ate my remaining starbursts, terrified that they wouldn't work, petrified that I would just get lower and that I would have no food left. I wondered, as I walked past countless blank faces, whether anybody could hear the fear buzzing around my mind, so loud to me, but invisible to everybody around. It's hard for my sugar-starved mind to contemplate that nobody else can feel this, it's so strong.

I can barely describe the fear, the vulnerability, the feeling of danger I had; I felt for my medic-alert bracelet, for the comfort that if something happened, at least someone would know. I reached the bus stop, pricked my finger. 100. I was safe.