Speed Bump

The feeling had returned. People had asked me what it felt like, but it can’t be explained. Of the billions of words, no combination of them could explain it. I felt weak, my stomach in knots, the feeling of severe nervousness experienced by one with extreme stage fright about to go in front of a large audience of people. Nausea and an intense hunger collide creating such a gut wrenching phenomenon. I felt dazed, slowly slipping away from reality. Small sounds brought me back. Alert again, I looked around before slipping away once again. I felt as if I couldn’t move, helpless and alone as my limp body stammered across the room.
I dig through my bag, rummaging around. Shaking, my hands close around the small black pouch and with desperateness I pull it out. I grasp at the small Velcro flap and rip it open. My hands fumble around the paper packaging as, with great effort, I am able to tear it. The smell of alcohol escapes into the air as the soft cotton pad is exposed. I slide it out of the paper and coat my finger in the strong odor of the swab.
I jam the small plastic strip into a device, a small machine in which I depend all health affairs on the accuracy of. Bringing a small plastic case housing a small needle to my finger, I press the button, stabbing the alcohol covered finger. Barely feeling the jab, I look down at my finger tip. Blood seeps from the hole in my finger. I squeeze at my finger until an even bead of blood gathers. I press the blood to the strip as it sucks it in. Within seconds a number appears on the screen, 53. Low. I didn’t need the machine to tell me this. I knew. The warning signs my body sent out, the feeling in my stomach, I knew, and I needed food.
With the feeling of sickness still ever present, I let my shaking fingers close around the crumbling glucose tablet that my well being relied on. The strong scent brought about the nausea, making it even more prevalent. The sweet smell that so often tempted and taunted me now turned to vile torment. I felt sick, and nearly gagged as I forced the pure sugar down my throat. Beginning to feel better I ate crackers, and once the queasiness vanished I craved another tablet. Gathering all self control, I pushed the container of tablets back into my bag and sighed. That was enough sugar for one day.
The whole concept was still new, still hard, and I hated it with every fiber of my being. But I wouldn’t let myself cry. The diabetes changed a lot about my life, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me. “Diabetes isn’t a road block, it’s a speed bump.”