Where’s the worst place to get a low blood sugar? Let’s talk kayaking…
Low bloodsugars are, by nature, inconvenient. They happen rapidly, they demand immediate attention regardless of scenario, they cause all sorts of bizarre bodily reactions, and if left untreated, a low glucose can actually kill you. Come to think of it, this is sounding remarkably like having children….but that’s a different blog post. You name the location, and I have probably had a low there - on the volleyball court, on a date, before a karate match, at a frat party, a remote beach in Honduras, and on a bus in some far-reaching corner of Portugal - I have pretty much experienced it all. But a recent low I experienced might have taken the cake (no pun intended, although there was unfortunately no cake in sight to treat my low): in a kayak in the middle of the Hawaiian ocean.
I was lucky enough to escape to the Kona coast of Hawaii this past holiday season. My step mom and I took a much-needed break over the holidays to get away to a place where we could relax, leave our worries on the mainland, and re-charge our batteries for the coming year. In hopes of getting even tan lines and avoiding the inevitable “what’s that thingy on you back?” question for a few days, I decided to go pump-free for the vacation. For me, that meant less predictability with my numbers while I went back to the regimen of Lantus and Novolog injections (which, after pumping for only a few short months now seems downright archaic…what do you mean this isn’t wireless??!??)
I find myself in a kayak, paddling back from one of Kona’s best snorkel spots, when I feel it start to creep up on me. Just a little lightheadedness, and the paddle in my hands starts to feel a little heavy. I try to shake it off, thinking I must just be tired of kayaking. I look towards the shore, and our dock seems miles away. At least 20 more minutes of paddling. I look over at some friends of ours in the next kayak, Hernan and Carrie, and watch them power away at the water with their paddles. I look down between my feet and see the dry bag, which is holding my glucose meter and a packet of glucose tablets. The dry bag is triple-sealed to ensure it serves its purpose. I want to tell my step-mom to stop, so I can grab the tablets, but I don’t. I’m not sure why, but I just don’t want to stop. I can feel the low progressing, a little shake starting in my hands…. but maybe the shore is closer than it seems, right? What if I fumble when I open the dry bag and drop my pump controller in the water? Those things cost $750! What if I drop the whole bag in the water? What if I forgot the glucose tablets and they’re not even in that bag? Why on earth am I getting low right now, I’ve been running high since this morning? Why now?
Out of nowhere, I hear people yelling from a kayak near us - its a couple of our other friends who were out on the same channel, looking for the same snorkel spot. Larry and his two kids pull up alongside our kayak to greet us. I’m quiet in the back, unsure of what to do and why I can’t just make myself say something. Reading my face in the way that only an experienced dad can, Larry looks at me and says “Lex, are you feeling ok? You look a little down. Do you need a snack?”
I look at him and I’m about to say that I’m ok, I’ll get a snack back at the shore, then I glance over at his kids. The older girl, not more that 14 years old looks at me, concerned, and says “yeah maybe you should eat something.” I’m annoyed that the girl is right, I should eat something, I can feel it getting worse.
“Here I’ve got these great oranges….” offers Larry. Now everyone is concerned. The girls look at me with slight terror on their faces, my step mom wants to know why I didn’t say anything earlier, and Larry is practically peeling the orange for me. Hernan and Carrie sidle up to our kayak and Hernan says “yeah come on Lexie, eat something, we don’t want any episodes out here.”
Episodes? EPISODES? Really dude? Someone has seen Steal Magnolias one too many times. I fight the urge to flip Hernan’s kayak over, and take the orange from Larry and start to eat. There’s no reason for me to be embarrassed, but I am. I feel like the sick kid. I feel like the kid who has problems. I feel like the weird diabetic kid who had to have a 14-year-old tell her what to do. I feel like everyone is looking at me and wondering what I did to mess up my diabetes. I hate having their eyes on me. I gulp down the orange and claim I feel better, even though I know it will be 15 minutes or so until my levels go back up. Here I am, Miss Diabetes Advocate, Miss Public with her Disease, Miss Don’t-Ever-Let-It-Hold-You-Back, reduced to feeling the way I did in fourth grade when I was diagnosed and I walked into school that first day knowing that I was now “different.” I have no idea why that day in the kayak felt like that. Normally I couldn’t care less about what other people think - my attitude has always been to take care of my health first regardless of circumstance. I’m the girl who has no problem checking her bloodsugar before a round of tequila shots in the middle of the bar. I guess sometimes, even for me, having diabetes can make me feel weak, even if only for a moment. But only for a moment, ok? Diabetes may have won that pride battle, but I’m dominating on the war. In the meantime, can OmniPod get a waterproof/floating/doubles-as-a-life-jacket glucose meter going…..?
Hawaiian sunset
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