I’ve always felt as if there’s some sort of invisible radar signal that I send out to my son that wakes him up when I’m low. Maybe he has a sixth sense about it, I don’t know. Or, maybe he just was scared crap-less by my Dexcom whaling after midnight last night that woke him up and not me, though it was three inches from my ear, and he was in another room. Either way, I was low, and I didn’t wake up.
Not until I heard his screaming from his room. Not his usual whimpery cry that’s basically his way of saying “maaamaaaaaaa, I don’t want to sleep by myselfffff….”, but a full-on tear fest by the time I got him. It wasn’t until I picked him up and took him to our room and I fell and dropped him (the bed was right there, so at least I dropped him in the bed) that I knew something REALLY wasn’t right. I got back up and placed a pillow beside him and went to the kitchen to test.
Yep. It was then that I could not feel my mouth at all – not just tingly, numb lips, my entire face from my nose down may as well have been shot up with Novocaine. It was hard to chew the glucose tabs. It wasn’t until my BG started to come up that I realized we had juice in the fridge as well as Erik’s regular soda sitting right beside the fridge.
When I went back to bed, I looked at my Dexcom, still hanging on the hook above my pillow, to see what had happened. I dropped from around 160/180 range to LOW within an hour.
I never heard the alerts. (I emphasize this because it’s something that I can’t make my mind grasp.)
I don’t know how it happens, but this has happened more than once where it’s my son to wake me up from a low and not the Dexcom. I think he’s got some sort of sixth sense about it. I’ve heard the same types of stories from other moms who have diabetes. Maybe there’s a bond there that no one else can have with us. It’s sad, but it’s pretty cool too. Either way, I’m just thankful for it.