My alarm goes off at 6:30am. I feel so tired, I barely open my eyes while my arm searches the bedside table for the snooze button. No way am I getting up right now. Snooze please. I’m so exhausted.
Somewhere seemingly far away – somewhere between dreams and awake, I can hear a buzz-buzz sound. Some pathway between levels of awake and asleep hints to me that it’s my DexCom, but I smush the thought. “Just five more minutes,” I think (dream?) to myself. I am so tired I don’t think I ever want to get out of bed. So I snooze again. But then the buzz-buzz returns, a little closer now, but just far away enough that I decide to ignore it again. I’m just so tired, and I just…I can’t force my eyes open yet.
The alarm clock sounds again though, for the third time. It’s woken me up enough now that I’m aware that it’s probably close to 7:00, and I can’t lay here anymore. I hoist my head off the pillow, pull myself into a sitting position, and silence the alarm. I sit for a moment, shocked by how exhausted I am. “How can I be this tired?” I wonder to myself. “I went to bed at 10pm, I’ve had plenty of sleep.” I’m in a fog so thick I wonder if I’m really capable of swinging my legs over the side of the bed to walk to the kitchen for some coffee.
Then, the pieces of the diabetic puzzle come together. I remember the buzz-buzz from my dream, and realize it wasn’t a dream. It was the CGM. And I turn and look at the meter on the bedside table, and try to Jedi-force it towards me. Finally I focus, and grab the meter and test. 42mg/dL it tells me.
That might be why I’m so tired. Still not sure if I’m really awake or if this is another part of the dream, I walk to the kitchen. I’m willed by the powerful force of survival our bodies have. I open the fridge and spoon frosting from the can to my mouth. Again. Once more. A tablespoon’s worth.
Then I sit down and wait, so that I can wake up for real this time.