Yesterday was a good day. Until.
Until my Continuous Glucose Monitor crapped out. It was displaying ‘System-error’. It alarmed and between me jerking the thingy off my upper arm and trying to remove batteries from the monitor and my Nazi DIL imploding we figured out I was gonna need a new one.
So last night I was finger lancing and checking my glucose the ‘old fashioned’ way.
All seemed well. Went to sleep late as I’m wont to do. I woke up at, well I’m not sure what time. I was struggling to stay awake. I knew my sugar was low. I poked my finger and actually got a reading. I don’t think I registered in my head. I somehow decided I needed insulin. Wrong. I think. I was super confused. Having trouble seeing and speaking.
During this time I was desperately trying to message a person. A Doper-who-will-remain-nameless. And trying to text my DIL. Gibberish ensued. DIL was already in route. We had already made plans the evening before. She got to me and ascertained I was in deep poop. She was readying the glucose rescue and calling the diabetic nurse within minutes. She took a lesson via text on how to poke my finger and how to read my manual glucose reader. All in all, she was my hero again. I’m beginning to feel like I owe this girl.
We went to the Clinic and they decided I needed an insulin infusion thru my PICC line.
Had a white count test. Back on antibiotics. Got my new CGM calibrated.
I want to say somthing about the Doper-who-shall-remain-nameless. If not for them I would not have stayed awake. I would have went down, forsure. I was trying with all my might to message them. It wasn’t working very well, but my brain was trying. This is, to me, tantamount to saving my life. It bought me some time til DIL got there. Thank-you. Thank-you.Thank-you!
Once again. I am here and alive thanks to the SDMB.
Geez Beck, You went through a close call. I’m thankful you reached out and got help.
Take care and I hope you’re feeling better soon.
Have you considered a diabetic service dog?
You need more back up. Like a single press button that auto-dials your husband and DIL with a “help” message.
I have a panic button. It never occurs to me. Then I get confused.
My cats may be diabetic cats. They are always in my face when these things are happening. If they could only give injections.
That’s pretty scary, Beck! I’m glad that, between the unnamed Doper, and vigilant DIL, you’re OK now. Sending lots of positive energy to you.
I had a cat some years ago who used to sit there, pick up one paw and look at it, as if he was thinking, “If I only had a thumb …”
Glad to know that you’re OK, Beck. Stay well; this place wouldn’t be the same without you.
Beck, may I make a suggestion?
I am not a moderator , but I’d like to offer a potential warning: It seems to me that your posting privileges at this site are in danger.
Most of us know that there are certain situations about which the mods are very strict and will ban you.
(Some off those situations aren’t so relevant–stuff like creating fake sock accounts, or being a jerk,etc.)
But another such situation is: if you die.
The mods will definitely remove your posting privileges if you die.
So don’t make the mods do that!
Okay?
'Cause we like having you around.
And another, slightly more serious, suggestion: why bother with all that texting?
There used to be an older technology that nobody uses any more, but is still available if you really insist: it’s called “making a phone call”.
You know, with a bell-thing that rings loudly, and doesn’t stop till somebody answers.
Then they , like, ya know, do something in real-time, in meat-space: it’s called “talking”.
Try it----It could be useful sometimes.
'Cause we like having you around.
Oh, one more thing: we’re still waiting for kitty pics on the rafters.
But we’ll be glad to keep waiting for a while…
'Cause we like having you around.
You don’t get banned if you die. You just… drift to the second page.
Oh, and, “You’re Welcome!”
There are no land lines where I live. Never has been any. DIL set up a wifi voice thing. I hav’nt used it yet. I have 3 cel phones. One is dedicated to DIL and diabetic nurse. My wifi is very stable so I think the voice thing will soon be the go-to if DIL has any say. All this is useless if I’m too confused or completely out and can’t use it. My CGM was working perfectly til yesterday. I have my new one. So I’m good for now.
I’ll bet you’re Great!
I’m bad, bad, bad…
No, Michael Jackson was bad. He said so.
You’re good, Beck.
I’m starting to recognize which of your posts I have to read through my fingers and which I can just read normally.
As long as there continue to be posts to read…
I’m up and about this morning. Numbers are looking fine. Walked doggies. Ate breakfast.
Since it’s de rigueur for me to do so, I’ll tell aliitle bit about the Siameezers. They spent the night on my headboard. Never have they slept there. Bear purred loud and long. Meeko was curled up like a cinnamon roll on my latest lovey, an old, ratty blue t-shirt. I need to get them a bed to put up there. I want my lovey for my own use.
Thanks for all the welll wishes, y’all.
Glad you’re okay now, Beckdawrek. Now, this DIL who keeps saving you and is your hero - is this the same DIL whose daughter you are attempting to teach how to wheedle her dad into getting her a kitten? The one who texted you to stop it? The one who holds your glucose levels in her cellphone? Ya might want to reconsider your strategy around her. Just sayin’.
(BTW, Steve, your dreamed up lotto numbers were a bust, I’ll need new numbers, just sayin’)
You do. I hope you raised her husband right!
Help! My blood sugar has fallen and I can’t get up!
Well darn, I was wondering where my check was. Hmmm, I guess I’ll need some higher quality alcohol to help me dream up some new numbers. Frankly, I was kind of counting on those lottery winnings to help me afford some higher quality alcohol, so I’m in a bit of a catch 22 here. I’ll have to get back to you.
It was the ‘pi’ that effed it up.
Since I’m a math-retard I have no clue what that means. I thought of ‘pie’.and slicing it, then pizza-pie came to me. I pondered why we don’t call it pizza-pie anymore, but I digress, sorry. Pizza is usually 8 slices per, unless you get tha weird square cut, shut-up beck. God. Anywhoo, I used 8 as the powerball.Wrong. I’m tired now, too much thinking. Just send me a normal number.