But he assured me that he took 10 units of the fast-acting R just shortly before the Lantus dose to counteract the frozen yogurt dessert we were having.
I was skeptical, because I swore it was when he was supposed to be taking his long-lasting insulin, but I wasn't paying full attention so I didn't press the issue.
Though my bringing this up did get his attention, so he checked his blood sugar often for the next few hours.
At 11:30 it was 78. Good, he liked that number.
Then at midnight just before we started to doze off he tested again; the glucometer read LO. Just LO.
Sure enough, it's that damn insulin confusion again.
But he was walking and talking just fine, so when he went downstairs to drink some juice and have a cigarette to wait out the low, I didn't think much of it. We'd been watching a movie in bed that was about half way through, so I decided to take it to him downstairs to watch while I went to sleep.
Thank GOD I went downstairs when I did. He was standing, but the convulsions had started. Not 1 minute after I walked down those steps was he unable to stand on his own. He sat down on the coffee table, but could no longer hold himself up. I was holding him up as he spasmed in my arms.
I felt totally helpless. The juice bottle wasn't within reaching distance, and if I let him go to fetch it, he was going to hit the hardwood floor. Both cell phones were upstairs on the nightstand. I could do nothing aside from hold him up.
So I decided to get him to the floor. He wasn't super happy about it, but by the time I got him there he wasn't saying much of anything; convulsions continued.
I ran upstairs, grabbed my cell and dialed 911.
After explaining the situation, I opened the blinds so I knew when the paramedics would arrive.
Lucky for us, we're about 4 city blocks from the fire station, so it never takes long.
A local cop was the first to arrive. He was in the area and thought he'd stop to see if he could help. Nope- sorry dude. Turns out, he really was just bored; said there was nothing else going on tonight.
Honestly that pissed me off a bit. My living room is not the place for you at 2:30 am, sorry guy! But of course, I couldn't exactly kick him out. And once the paramedics arrived, I had other things on my mind.
Luckily, he was startled out of it by the 4 random people in our house and he was able to get up and drink some juice. I think the juice he'd had before they got there was finally kicking in. He was up to 29 at least. And holding a pretty nice conversation I might add.
When that happens and he actually doesn't need medical attention, I always feel a little bad, 1) for waking up the paramedics, and 2) for the unnecessary attention from strangers that he has to endure.
After they left he apologized for the insulin mix up and scaring me. I can't say it's something I've even remotely gotten used to, but I have become more comfortable picking up the phone and dialing 911. I used to hesitate, not knowing if I could get him to consume enough sugar to bring him back. But sometimes it's just best to have the extra help.
I'm a pretty small girl, and he's 6 foot+, 185 lbs of pure muscle. Sometimes I'm scared that I might get hurt while trying to help him or move him.
Though I have to say, I'm one of the lucky ones, because he's far from violent. In fact, even through his convulsions last night he continued to use what was left of his strength to wrap his arms around me and ask me to hug him.
As he laid on the floor, nearly unconscious, I continued to rub his arms and tell him how much I love him - and hearing those words he'd squeeze my hand.
I'm thankful that I'm not one of those caregivers who wonders if they'll get hit during a low.
After another half hour or so we checked again and he was up to 93. Good to go to bed!
But of course, that didn't make me sleep easy. Throughout the night as he snored away, I continued to wake up at the slightest movement and touch his head/neck to make sure he wasn't sweating and to ask him every time he rustled if he was okay.
I suppose that's what's going to happen when you're a worry wart like me. Though, as I tell myself, it's better to be too concerned than not at all. After all, if I wasn't, what would have happened at 2:30 this morning?
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