Tag Archives: low blood sugar
Sugar Hangover: A Diabetic Post-Halloween [COMIC]
Now that I’ve emerged from Halloween alive and healthy, I feel this holiday deserves some reflection on strategy (hey, every year it’s kind of a toss up as to the survival of sugar binge. I’m pretty sure the Keebler elves are out to get me). Like clockwork, every Halloween since …
Night-Out Glamour Tips for the Endocrine-Challenged
The other day, as I tucked and twisted and swore trying to find an acceptable fold of fabric on my dress on which to clip my insulin pump, it occurred to me that glamour for Diabetic chicks can be a tricky proposition. Blood spatter, blocky insulin pumps and glucometers, injection …
Floating
The moment expectation slams into reality knocks us off our feet. We spin and drift for hours on the tears that rip a body apart from within. We know that he is gone, but it doesn’t seem real when you can’t know where. Confusion. We drift like leaves. Bed, floor, …
They Might Get Stuck
Dad sits in his chair, lips now a permanent tinge of blue, eyes a permanent cast of yellow. Different colours bud from skin, beneath fingernails, in the spots around his ears and eyes like a field taken over by strange blooming wildflowers. His glossy black curls are gone. I lie …
Run Run Run as Fast as You Can
A month after a surgeon cuts the lump from Dad’s thigh and conducts a biopsy, doctors sit Mum and Dad down on a sofa in the clinic, and show them x-rays of his chest cavity. The blood tests gave them cause to search the rest of his body. The tumours …
An Afternoon at the Abbatoir with Dad
Jaret and I take turns fishing, squealing and jumping around when the line spools out hurriedly. Dad runs to grab the rod before it is sucked into the sea. We club the fish with the wooden bat when they are pulled into the boat, twisting and wiggling on the line, …
Dad’s Injections: Perfect-a-mundo
They try to catch me but I am a greased monkey, leaping off furniture and swinging from the chandelier, hucking bananas to keep my fingers and arms and legs and tummy from being stabbed with needles. They are glorified zookeepers, subduing me to get blood and urine tests. They plunge …
Happy Effing Father’s Day
Father’s Day. Every year when this day rolls around, a strange mix of emotions overtakes me and tweaks my bloodsugars. Anger at the Hallmark holiday quality of crazy crap in stores, and the fact I can’t partake (but I want to buy my dad a singing Father’s Day squirrel too!). …
In the Trenches—the not-so-sweet considerations of Diabetic l’amour
A thin film of cold sweat breaks out across my skin—I’m glistening as if covered in a sheet of Pam cooking spray. My words collide, ram up against each other in a garbled mash. There is a moment when low blood sugar switches to dangerously low. I know it when …
Sugar-Induced Blogging—a Study in Mania
I woke today to discover an alarming incident had slipped into my otherwise painfully vanilla life. Some fiendish doppelganger not only accessed my computer but set up a blog, a website. Oh. My. God. Against my will, I was forced to become one of those freaks. Images of me accrued …
