If only I were gay I'd of thought I was in heaven!

So I came to on Friday afternoon on my couch with five paramedics around me, sensors all over my chest and stomach, an IV in my left arm and my upstairs neighbor standing there wondering what the fuck was going on.

Seems sometime after noon I called my boss to explain why I wasn't at work yet, but apparently it came out more like a bunch of grunts, mumbling and slurred words. Then I just hung up on her. So her and Krista were obviously concerned and called 911 and sent them to my condo.

Here's what I remember... Calling Heather................waking up on the couch.

Once I was coherent enough to realize the paramedics GOT IN somehow I freaked thinking they busted the door down. But seems as though I answered the door. Don't remember it. Krista got Lynn's phone number somehow and my boss called her and seems as though I talked to Lynn while the paramedics were working on me. Don't remember it. It's a really fucking weird feeling to have an hour you don't remember.

So what caused the fun? Hypoglycemia or low blood sugar. I was so pissed and embarrassed. I've been having problems with this since the surgery. Basically it bottoms out while I'm sleeping. I came home from the club and my blood sugar was at 170, which is where I want it when I'm out. So fine. I ate some oatmeal, 30 carbs which equals 120 blood sugar points, which would have brought my level to 290 which is high, but because of the issues with it dropping and the fact I had two drinks WAY early in the evening and alcohol lowers blood sugar, I didn't take any insulin which should have kept the level high until morning. Obviously it didn't. I KNOW the fucking math. Why the hell did this happen again?

I felt like such an ass. The paramedic said not to stress it because they see this all the time, like a couple of times a week. I'm just glad the firehouse is literally across the street from me.

I'm also really grateful for Heather and Krista calling 911 for me. Probably saved my life. Going to the diabetes doctor on Wednesday and I'm going to try and figure out what the fuck is up with oatmeal lowering my blood sugar so drastically. I've adjusted my insulin pump's hourly rate down some and the levels have been higher, but I'm too afraid to eat oatmeal late at night until I know what the hell is up.

I have a nice giant bruise on my arm where the IV was to remember it all by for a little while at least.

In other news:

Watching the Emmys was a painful experience. I kept having to change the channel as some of it was so uncomfortable. Like the LAUGH-IN thing. JESUS!!! Don Rickles' speech was the only funny thing in it. I didn't like the way they cut off people who were making political statements.