Finishes normally, around 8.30 go upstairs for a read in bed as i have a good book and the kids want to watch something crap on the telly. Eyes won't stay open and i fall asleep. Wife comes up at 10 and i wake with a start, in a cold sweat and anxious. Sleep has gone away, and after 5 minutes of grumpiness i waddle downstairs to leave the family to sleep. The dogs are glad to be out of the kitchen 5 minutes after being put to bed, and together we snuggle up in the lounge with a dying fire to watch the start of the Ashes test.
Somewhere after about 10 overs, with England in a dream position that makes me wonder if i am still asleep, I need the toilet. And every hour on the hour for the next 6 or 7 I make that trip. I dont think the tofu was cooked right through, and i will not describe to you the effect. i drink litres of water but still feel parched, and know that solid food is a way off.
So around 7 the family rise and find me curled in a ball on the sofa muttering incoherently about run outs and catches. They dont care. They all need to be off and out, although the coating of snow means they go out and come back quite quickly. Eldest gets to work, younger stays off school.
The stomach starts to settle, and having decided I am too ill to have my injection or tablets, i stupidly decide i am now well enough to have some toast. i test my blood, and its 13.7. Not that much higher than normal reading, so toast it is. And a small bowl of muesli, because i am so hungry, and what harm can it do, its no added sugar and wholemeal...
It's about 11 and i think i should check my blood again. I am grouchy and have a headache and still trying to read the signs. The needle clicks, the strip draws up the blood, and the egg timer changes to numbers.
That is very high. That is frighteningly high. Should i go to hospital? I don't know. I dont have insulin, so the only option is metformin. The wife demands a recount. So i try a finger on the other hand. 22.7. Ok, so maybe i'm not dying. But i remember being told that fingers on different hands can be wildly different, so i try the original finger again. 26.7.
It's going up. I am dying. Ok, metformin. Supposed to have 4 of these a day, they haven't made much difference over the last 6 years, so lets inject the byetta and then have all 4 now. And some gliclazide. I need to get the numbers down. But i cant take these things on an empty stomach. So the injection goes in, the tablets get down, and i pace around the snowy garden for 20 minutes. Time for some oatcakes, somehow i come up with the logic that the insulin needs to be released by eating stuff, and then the drugs can do their work....
I am panicing and nervous, and leave it 2 hours before checking again. I am tearful and stressed, I am not in control and i am frightened.
So now its about 4 o'clock and having felt so much better when it was down at 3pm i think i should check again. 5.0.
Er, that's too low. Is it officially a hypo? Am i dying again? Is it a metformin overdose? OMG, i killed myself with my drugs.
Eat! Eat! But something that is low Gi, low Gl but will get my sugars slowly up again. I cant remember now what i had, but an hour later it was back at 11.
And i felt better. I know i felt more in control and better because we had to go out driving and i let the wife take the keys. Normally my chauvinism manifests in chaufferism, but tonight i know its not wise.
So what did i learn? Illness makes your sugars go up. Don't panic and make stupid huge corrections - everything needs to be in moderation.
And the most important lesson i think was that i saw the drugs work. i saw the reading of 26, i took the drugs, ate a little good food, and it collapsed down to 5.
For the first time I actually saw that the drugs can work. And hope is not something i have had much of recently.
An awful day, but a day i saw hope.