29. blood sugar at 29 doesn’t feel good.

the sweats hit me like a truck. every pore is leaking: my forehead, my back, even my shins. my clothes = instantly wet all over. my mind = mush. shaky hands. shaky arms. panic.

and when this happened on a crowded plane full of strangers, i’m so grateful that God placed the right people near me to make it through.

our plane started to descend, so i stood up to place my bag back in the overhead bin. as i reached up, i caught a glimpse of my blood sugar reading on my watch. it was dropping curiously quick. i grabbed my omnipod out of my bag and sat down to take my blood sugar.

the girl one seat to the right of me asked, “type 1 or type 2?” and started a conversation. her dad has been a type 1 diabetic since age 13. she glanced at my reading of 65 and kept a conversation going as i started chowing on a packet of swedish fish (my fave). my next two dexcom readings (every five minutes), we’re dropping like it’s hot (literally in this case). i opened my second pack of swedish fish.

ten minutes later i was rocking a finger prick at 48. not good.

i suspended my insulin and asked the flight attendant for orange juice. she informed me that we were landing, and everything was locked up. as i told her i was diabetic and flashed my blood sugar reading, i got a “you got it. i’m on it.” (the flight attendant was also diabetic.)

i downed a can of orange juice and knew i was still in trouble. sweats were in full force. i checked my sugars again: 29. pretty sure i let out a passionate four letter s-word.

the guy across the aisle (his wife is type 1) handed me a pack of protein sugar. the flight attendant handed me a bag of almond m&m’s. my hands shook too much to open, so she ripped them open with her teeth. i started popping those babies as fast as i could chew.

i could feel my eyelids grow heavy and started to see the black curtain make its way down my vision. i let the flight attendant know where my bag was located in the bin above me and requested that she find my emergency glucagon shot. she got my bag down and set it at my feet.

then she picked up the phone to make an announcement to ask if we had a nurse or doctor on board. God had my back. the nurse sat in the seat directly behind me. i hear, “i’ve been watching the situation from back here. how bad is it?”

she stood up and asked my current sugar. when i told her 29, i heard “where’s your glucagon? you need the shot.” panic. tears welled up in my eyes.

i squeaked out, “are you sure? i’ve had swedish fish, orange juice, m&m’s. shouldn’t it be going up?” she asked if i would down one more orange juice. “of course.”

we waited another five before another reading: 47. “thank God.” i skirted the glucagon.

i don’t remember the plane hitting the runway. i don’t remember the taxi to the gate. i do remember when i stopped sweating. relief.

i stood up as the first one to walk off the plane. God knew what he was doing placing me in the front row.

as i staggered up the tarmac, i thanked God for the chilly denver air. so soothing as my shirt stuck to my back and my jeans to my legs (the high boots i was wearing didn’t seem like a good idea anymore).

when i walked into the terminal, it felt like a new world. i drifted through the crowded gate and found an open seat.

i sat there in a moment of relief and looked down to a text from my husband checking in. when i turned my phone off airplane mode, he received my low blood sugar alerts. i called to give him the story. as the words started to roll off my quivering lips, tears started to fall. panic. survival. relief.

i sat there for about 30 minutes after the call. then took two strolls around the terminal lost in my thoughts. it felt good to be in the company of my sound mind and working legs. and then my buzzing watch alerted me. i pulled up my wrist to a high blood sugar warning with double up arrows. i let out a chuckle of relief.

screw this stinking disease. i’m eating a pizza. 

as i sit in the wine bar sipping sauvignon blanc (and about to order a flatbread with a blood sugar of 200+), the kindness and generosity of others amazes me. and because i walked off the plane too tipsy to think about it, i didn’t even get to say “thank you.”

next flight: insulin on my omnipod is going to be suspended. and because i’ve had sugar lows (never this low) on my last dozen flights, i’m going into research mode. i’m convinced that my pump is leaking too much insulin on flights.

p.s. just kidding on the flatbread. apparently, they’re sold out. i guess God has my back on making better choices as well. 😉

update: a friend sent me this blog link from a t1d who has a good hypothesis. check out what A Sweet Life has to say.