As a diabetic, I sometimes have these "lows". What this means is that my blood sugar goes below normal and I become stupid. Normal people rarely leave the comfort zone of 70-120 BG. I've been as low as 33 that I know of. There is a real danger of seizures and comas with these low readings. Actually, anything lower than 60 is a health risk. I say I become stupid because when I'm this low I forget how to do things. Like talk. Instead of saying "I'm not feeling well, would you bring me some juice or fast acting carbohydrates, please", I point and say "uh" and you're left alone to interpret.
This is something that happened about a year ago. I have my husband's word that everything is true, to his best interpretation.
We'd been arguing. This happened more than I would like to admit when the twins were first born. I have a self-destructive side that emerges when I feel threatened. I remember thinking that he was being really mean and that I didn't deserve it. Honestly, I can't tell you what the argument was about anymore. I'm sure it was simply that we were both exhausted all the time and on each other's nerves. So, I "forgot" to eat.
This argument escalated and, at some point in our "discussions", Hubby said that I abruptly stopped talking, went into our bedroom and just got into bed. So, he started doing laundry. He said that he would look at me as he passed through the bedroom and he just assumed my glazed, vacant stare was me staring icicle darts at him. I guess he missed the drooling. After a while, he'd had enough of my silent treatment and he came to talk to me. He said that I just stared at him and wouldn't talk. After a while he started to get mad. Then the crazy started.
He said I shouted at him to leave me alone and I crawled under the covers and started to cry when he touched me. When he wouldn't leave me alone I rolled across the bed (still under the covers) and fell off the far end. When he heard the "thump" he started thinking that maybe this wasn't normal behavior for me. Hmmm. Maybe she's... low? He started asking me if I was alright and did I need something to eat. He said I just shook my head and jumped up and ran into the bathroom. I'm sure I slammed the door. Maybe twice. He came after me (stubborn man). He said when he opened the door I was nowhere to be found... until he saw my feet sticking out from under the hanging clothes in my closet. Shhh. I was hiding.
He went to the kitchen and got me something to drink. He brought it back to my hiding place (damn, he found me). He opened the can and told me to drink it. I apparently tried to play slappy with him. Somehow he got me to drink the can OF SLIMFAST. Ok, we had apple and orange juice in the refrigerator, but a chocolaty weight management drink was his choice. He SAYS I wouldn't drink it because I thought he was trying to poison me, but I think that even in my delirious state I was offended at his beverage offer.
I gagged it down with pushy assistance and he got me out of the closet and back into bed. At some point I actually joined this story. I remember talking to him and then not really knowing why I was in bed. By this time I was lucid enough to test and I was still only in the 60s. I asked him to get me something to eat because I needed to get higher. He brought me cheese. *sigh*