There’s a type of low I have.

It’s usually the middle of the night. I’m alerted to something not being quite right – this time, my iPhone beeped. This time I caught it before it became a complete white out hypo that I’ve no real memory of the next day. I switched into autopilot and started to do what I needed to do. I don’t know how it happens; it’s as though I am watching from above, telling myself what to do.

Renza, sit upright.

Renza, grab your meter.

Renza, there are no strips remaining in the canister.

Renza, get out of bed and walk to the diabetes cabinet and get new box of strips.

Renza, check blood glucose.

Renza, grab juice box from bedside table.

Renza, stab straw into juice box and drink, drink, drink.

Renza, go to kitchen.

Renza, cut slice of bread from sourdough loaf on kitchen counter.

Renza, slather bread with Nutella.

Renza, sit at kitchen table.

Renza, eat.

I was methodical, my movements slow and deliberate, almost robotic, like Hymie from Get Smart. I could almost feel my brain actually engaging with each body part, telling me what to do: walk, reach, drink, eat, chew.

I don’t know how long I sat at the kitchen table. I remember starting to focus on the pale light in the back garden and the shadowy figures the huge tree from over the back lane making. I heard Cherry the cat meow quietly at one point.

Renza, go back to bed.

I climbed back into bed, Aaron stirred. ‘Are you okay?

‘Hypo. One of those that I often don’t remember. You know – where you would be forcing me to drink pineapple juice and I’d have no memory of it…?

I stopped for a minute and realised I was cold but still needed to order my body parts to do what I wanted:

Renza, use your arms to cover your body with the doona.

I started shivering as I realized my hair and t-shirt were damp. I was tired, but couldn’t sleep. My overactive brain that had been busily directing my body, telling it what to do, wasn’t ready to shut down just yet. It was on high alert, and as often happens in that post-hypo murkiness, with the power to shut down the negativity completely deficient, all the scary thoughts started flying around. I thought about what could have happened; I thought about the times that the lows invaded everything and I couldn’t function at all, not remembering the spent juice boxes, empty wrappers, crumbs in the bed. The fear and darkness of hypoglycaemia threatened to overtake me and I knew that sleep that night would be lost forever unless I acted.

Renza…close your eyes.

Renza…don’t have another low…

Renza…get some sleep…

Max and Hymie

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