My sugar went low while I was parent helping at Kade’s preschool today. We were outside on the playground and I started to feel the tell-tale signs, but I couldn’t leave the teacher alone with 12 unleashed children able to run free in any direction, so I prayed silently that I would make it inside. About 10 minutes later, we were heading back in and I could feel my lips start to tingle and the sweat was forming at the small of my back. I told the teacher that I needed to test…56. I quickly drank a juice box, but I had things to do so I couldn’t sit and rest, which meant the low was going to take some time to recover. I’m glad I got out of there without snapping at any of the kids (I tend to turn into a raging bitch when my sugar goes low, and when it goes high too…poor Kyle).

Moments like this make me do a diabetic reality check. I have to realize that I am different, that sometimes my needs have to come first, that I do have limitations. I have to be aware of my body and what it is telling me. I can’t ignore it.

It’s hard to admit that I don’t have control, that I am at the mercy of the insulin I inject. I can run 26.2 miles, but too much or too little insulin can stop me in my tracks. Some days are good. Some days I can figure it out, and what I bolus and what I eat align, and I feel whole and normal. Other days aren’t so easy, and the roller coaster ride of highs and lows leaves me tired, depressed and defeated. I never know what kind of day it will be.

However, I do know one thing for certain…I could never be a preschool teacher.