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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "low":

Over the weekend, I had a low blood sugar in the middle of the night that left me feeling like I had been beaten soundly and left in a ditch. (Covered in petrol, a la Eddie Izzard.)
It was a strange experience, though, because the "low hangover" feeling was neatly accompanied by a feeling of guilt. This low wasn't one that came out of no where and smacked up upside the head. This low was the result of a miscalculation while I was at dinner. (READ MORE)

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Over the weekend, I had a low blood sugar in the middle of the night that left me feeling like I had been beaten soundly and left in a ditch. (Covered in petrol, a la Eddie Izzard.)
It was a strange experience, though, because the "low hangover" feeling was neatly accompanied by a feeling of guilt. This low wasn't one that came out of no where and smacked up upside the head. This low was the result of a miscalculation while I was at dinner. (READ MORE)

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Over the weekend, I had a low blood sugar in the middle of the night that left me feeling like I had been beaten soundly and left in a ditch. (Covered in petrol, a la Eddie Izzard.)
It was a strange experience, though, because the "low hangover" feeling was neatly accompanied by a feeling of guilt. This low wasn't one that came out of no where and smacked up upside the head. This low was the result of a miscalculation while I was at dinner. (READ MORE)

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If I had stomped my foot, I would have been acting just like them.
Looking at my 7-year-old and my just-turned-5-year-old, I was ranting about their ridiculous behavior.
"So what if she's looking at you?" I screamed.
"And why are you antagonizing him?" I yelled.
This was really odd behavior for me, I thought. Just an hour ago I was grocery shopping at WalMart with the baby and thinking about what good spirits I was in. I was feeling so happy that I was actually contemplating a post on how my walking routine was helping my attitude.
Grabbing the last few things in the produce section, I leaned down to look at something. When I stood up, I suddenly felt, for lack of a better word, weird. It wasn't my normal I-think-I'm-going-low feeling, so I chalked it up to a head rush. (READ MORE)

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The first time I knew “it” was in ninth grade. My class had to lead a chapel session at my private school. I was in charge of reading a passage of scriptures and leading music with some of the other kids. It was the first chapel my class had done. We’d be in front of a hundred of our peers and a dozen of our teachers.

 

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There really just is no way to describe the way an extreme low feels. It was surreal, like I was outside of myself; like I was watching myself through a camera mounted on my head--that carnival ride-like feeling you get when you watch a video of someone, say, walking through the woods from their point of view; like part of me was asleep while the conscious part of me fought like mad to make things right.
I saw the 29 and while I almost immediately pulled the strip out of the meter, for just a second I thought the number was the code for the strips. I, obviously, wasn't thinking clearly.
"29," I said to The Mr. (READ MORE)

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I've been hit! I've been hit! I called out sick for second straight day. My wife has me quarantined in my 8-year-old daughter's room since she has already been contaminated after seven straight days. I know I'm feeling a little loopy from the medication, but if Zac Efron and Harry Potter keep staring at me all sexylike, I swear I'm gonna pop them both in the jaw.
On to the Mad Libs. The submissions were fantastic! Great words, everyone. Thanks for playing. I should note that I did take the liberty of striking a minor two lines from my original Mad Lib because it just didn't work well at all. So, a couple of your words didn't make the final cut. Sorry about that. They were all so good, I plan to post each one. So, if you don't see yours in this post, look for it in the coming days.

Treating Low Blood Sugars
From Becky: (READ MORE)

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We're pretty staunch when it comes to supporting all things D. I don't like to discriminate, but if forced to choose, I'll always choose the diabetic brand. We only use diabetic dish detergent (fruity breath scent); we landscape with only diabetes-friendly shrubs and flowers and in the summers we go fishing in only diabetic waters.
That said, when Christmas comes around, we only sing diabetes Christmas songs in our household. Classics such as Have Yourself a Merry Little Bolus, The Little Pumper Boy and I Saw Mommy Ripping the Insurance Rep a New One fill our home with yuletide cheer.
And who can forget this classic adaptation of Let it Snow.
Bet He's Low!
Oh, my son's blood sugars are frightful Of course Ms. Berry's are delightful And since his eyes look like a Picasso I bet he's low, bet he's low, bet he's low (READ MORE)

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We finally got some snow in our neck of the woods. It wasn't much, but just enough to sled in, play in and of course get hypoglycemic in. We've been so desperate for snow; we would have taken sledding down a mountain of mud after a heavy rain at this point.
What we find unfortunately is that trudging through the snow is so strenuous that it sinks Charlie like a stone. He was low all weekend. Even while being detached from his pump for much of it.
And now for the "damn you, diabetes" segment of this post:
I remember how exciting it was when school was cancelled due to snow. I loved snow days. Can't Charlie just enjoy a snow day without diabetes spoiling it? After a morning low on Friday, the kids played in the snow for a while. When Susanne called out to Charlie to ask how he was feeling, he stopped flapping for a moment and lifted two thumbs up skyward while lying on his back in mid snow angel form; huge smile upon his face. (READ MORE)

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Diabetes has had us back on our heels and off-balance since school started. Charlie has had very high blood sugars. In turn, we're doing a lot of guessing. Guessing is not a great strategy when dealing with a major disease. Such is life with diabetes.

It is during these times that diabetes likes to send a message. It likes to bring you down to size and remind you that you're not in control. Just as we were about to make changes to deal with the constant highs, the unexpected sound of panic lifts me from my chair.

"Carey! Juice box now!!! He's very low!!!"

I pop from my chair like a firefighter responding to an alarm and grab two juice boxes. I can hear Susanne's voice growing louder as I make my way upstairs.

"CHARLIE! CHARLIE! I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP!"

"CHARLIE!"

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