Thank heaven for 7 Eleven

I was on the bed reading. My husband came in with April the diabetic dog. Steve said, "April has been a little wobbly." I looked down on the floor. April had stumbled and fallen. Steve helped her stand. She fell again.

April is 12-years-old, which is 89 in human years. Maybe she had a stroke. Or maybe... Steve grabbed her glucose test kit. I tested her blood sugar. It was 27 mg/dl (1.5 mmol)

 That is sugar reaper territory. April wasn't even shaking anymore. She was just lying limp on the couch. I looked at the number, and at Steve. Both of us said something that rhymes with, "Puck! Goalie mitt!"

The dog needs carbs. Lots of carbs. Now! I searched the kitchen. What do we have? Caramel sauce? No. Orange juice? No. Smarties? No. Glucose tablets? No. Honey? No. What can I give the dog? I found a Poptart. 35 grams of carbs. OK. OK. This will help. I ripped open the wrapper. Chocolate! Crap!

Then I remembered, on the dog medicine shelf was a tube of green cake frosting. It was almost empty. Five grams of carbs per teaspoon. That's not going to be enough.

"Steve, go to 7 Eleven and grab some powdered sugar donuts."

He grabbed his coat and left. I sat on the couch and squeezed cake frosting into the dog's mouth. April perked up a little and licked the frosting. The tube was nearly empty when Steve came home with donuts. April didn't bark when he came home. She just stayed on the couch looking limp and glassy-eyed.

My husband ripped open the package and handed me a donut. April gobbled it. And she gobbled the next one. She ate five out of six donuts. I gave part of the last donut to Honey, our non-diabetic dog, because she was standing beside me drooling.

Within half an hour, April was up and romping around the house. We tested her blood sugar a second time and it was 127. Crisis averted. The Sugar Reaper left.

This experience reminded me once again how important it is to have carbs ready to go, both for me and our dog. Now we have a new tube of vanilla cake frosting, and another package of 7 Eleven Powdered Mini Donuts, on the shelf. We're ready for the next time the dog is low.

Speaking of low, Dexcom is telling me that I'm low. What the puck? Hang on a sec while I confirm. Yep, I'm low. Finger says BG now 68. Weird. I did not expect that. I was 257 about an hour and a half ago.

We're not going to name names here, but someone had eggs and waffles for breakfast and (ahem) forgot to bolus ahead of time. I remembered to bolus about 10 minutes after breakfast, which is why my BG was only 257 and not 357. Did I just write ONLY 257? That, right there, says a lot about my life with diabetes. Facepalm.

After eating waffles, my pump, XPU Mark II, calculated I needed a boatload of insulin. I used my pump, gave myself an amazingly large bolus, and here I am low an hour and a half later.

Move over April. It's my turn to eat some medicinal donuts. Who knew 7 Eleven could save someone's life? Thank heaven for 7 Eleven.