The Dexcom said 177 mg/dl and dropping, but after a full 60 minutes of cardio, I expected the graph to show a lower trend.
“Whatever,” I said, a little confused because my pre-workout blood sugar was 143 mg/dl. Felt foggy, but I was a little dehydrated so I figured I needed to get home and relax. Ignoring the cotton-ball haze I felt encased by, I grabbed my keys and gym backpack from the locker room and walked out into the parking lot. After trying to get into someone else’s black Honda Civic (forgetting, in my fog, that we replaced my old car for the Mom Car), I put the key in my car’s ignition and sat there for a few seconds.
And then a few seconds more.
It wasn’t until I was out there for about two full minutes that I thought “Hey, might want to double-check that Dexcom reading” with my meter. The receiver was now showing some double-down arrows. And my glucose meter confirmed with a bright, shiny 35 mg/dl.
“Oh, you suck,” I said directly to my diabetes. And like a fast, hot breeze, all the symptoms of the low hit in full force, as though seeing the number made it actually real. Read more »
*This blog post was originally published at Six Until Me.*