Pop Rocks Saved My Life

In case you were wondering, that’s the view from my kitchen floor, just in front of the stove. It’s the view I happened to enjoy the night before last.

Thanks to me taking my meds as directed for the Year of Resolutions, mixed with me not eating properly, I found myself “low” the other night. Low, as in blood sugar. I had a bowl of cereal for dinner and that just didn’t cut it.

It was around 1:30am, Mom was sound asleep in her bedroom, and I was about to get myself a snack (bowl of cereal, in fact). As I reached for the bowl in the cabinet, I felt lightheaded. I thought I was just drowsy for a moment there. I’d already taken my bedtime meds (including the sleep med), so I started walking toward my room, thinking that it was time to lay down.

Didn’t even get halfway there.

Just in front of my recliner, I could feel myself sinking lower, getting dizzier and dizzier. I had the sense to get onto the floor, thank God. Grabbed my phone (just in case) and began slowly crawling on my hands and knees back to the kitchen.

All this while I’m thinking how fucked up and stupid it is that I’m about to pass out while my bedridden mother is on the other side of the kitchen wall. I should have called 911. But I didn’t. And that bothers me.

Instead, I kept moving slowly to the kitchen.

Remember one of my first Birthday Dares? This one? Yes, from four years ago. Well, as it turns out, I still have the bulk of that box of Pop Rocks I bought online for that dare. Not supposed to have those since they’re about 867% sugar. But I still have the box. Had it out recently when my nieces and Angel’s girls were here, so they could enjoy the explodey goodness of Pop Rocks.

And it’s a good thing, too. I’d just put the box on the kitchen counter that very day. So I crawled into the kitchen to grab a packet or two. Didn’t dare get off the floor. By the time I reached the stove and counter, I was so dizzy I thought I’d lose consciousness at any moment.

I was terrified. Yet still, even with my iPhone in hand, I didn’t dial anyone. I didn’t even think to call out, “Mom!” That’s the trouble with becoming faint – you don’t think clearly.

But I was clear enough to know that I HAD to reach those Pop Rocks.

One hand on the floor, the other reaching up to that box, which seemed about 30 stories up at the time. Grabbed a few packets, back down to the floor.

Almost blacking out now.

I ripped open a packet, laid down on the floor with my head about half a foot off the ground. Poured some Pop Rocks into my mouth and just let them sit on and under my tongue.

And when I woke back up, my forehead was cold from touching the kitchen tile. The rest of the Pop Rocks were spread out on the floor next to me, apparently having poured out when I passed out. Was only a few seconds, I think, that I was gone.

I remained in front of the stove, reaching over and picking up more Pop Rocks right off the floor and shoving them into my mouth. Sugar, people. When a diabetic friend or family member says they’re “low,” what they need is sugar, and fast. A glass of orange juice is great, but unfortunately my juice is on the top shelf of  my fridge and I wasn’t about to stand up.

When my head was fairly clear, and I felt ready to move, I crawled toward the pantry for the peanut butter. Protein, another important thing for diabetics. I was still very dizzy. Managed to grab the jar of PB, reached up into the silverware drawer and got a spoon, and I started putting PB in my mouth, staying on the floor all the while.

The whole thing probably lasted 20 minutes, but it felt like DAYS.

Obviously, I’m OK. My forehead is sore. I have a slight bump there now, and I need to get my glasses adjusted because the frames are slightly bent from hitting the floor.

So what did the idiot known as Karl learn from this experience?

1. Eat three square meals a day!
2. My meds probably need to be adjusted. They were prescribed to me when I weighed 35-40 pounds more than I do now.
3. When I begin feeling dizzy, call for help. Don’t wait.
4. Test my sugar more often!
5. Fainting is not on my Top 10 Fun Things To Do list.

All that aside, last night – after a PROPER dinner, thanks very much – I tested a 96 two hours after eating. That, folks, is what you call a normal glucose reading.

So yay for the bumpy-foreheaded moron.