Instructions Not Included

It's ended up turning in to one of those days, it really, really has. We've got a show in the theatre tonight, which means working late. However, half our staff are away, which means we're understaffed. On a normal evening when we have the public in the building, we have three members off staff on. Tonight, we had two - myself and Andrew. 

So, I'm busy doing box office (shocking), and we're about five minutes off opening the house. I'm feeling a bit wibbly, and I'm pretty sure a hypo is headed my way, but unfortunately, box office is busy, and my meter is in the other room. OK, I think, I can wait a couple of minutes to check. 

Then the fire alarm goes off. Oh yes, you heard me right. ANOTHER fire alarm with me in the building. Thrills! So, good, responsible little steward that I am, I make sure everyone is out of the building. It's not going to be fire, I know that - it's going to be the haze machine combined with the fans in the theatre kicking up dust. For some reason, that sometimes sets off the alarm, as has been previously observed by the times our Stage Manager, Rob, has set the alarm off with his sander. But we get everyone out, and I'm running up and down the stairs (we have quite a few), to check all the levels. Everybody out, everything is safe, everybody in. 

Wait a few minutes, serve lots more drinks. OK, I feel REALLY low now. I drink some juice off the bar, but I'm shaking on the insides, I'm sweating, and I can feel waves of heat rushing up and down me. Lovely. A couple of minutes later, I see a window of opportunity, and I run off and grab my meter, and try to check. 

Shunk, goes the lancet. 

No blood. Try another finger.

Shunk goes the lancet.

No blood this time either. Grrr!

Flick my arm to try and get some blood to my fingers.

Medical ID bracelet flies off my wrist, and is now a bunch of beads cluttering the floor between the box office and halfway through the main office. Well, that's just peachy, isn't it? I start picking them up, and try again to test.

Shunk goes the lancet.

4,3,2,1, numberwang says......3.2mmol/l (57.6mg/dl) AFTER juice?! Aw man. I'm seriously sweaty and swaying by now. I go back over to the bar.

So being as I'm supposed to stay downstairs as Duty Manager, whilst Andrew goes upstairs (ironically, mostly in case of a fire-related emergency, ha ha ha(!) ), I decide to possibly over treat this, so that he knows I'm not going to drop whilst I'm working alone downstairs, and can't get to anyone. 

Pour another glass of apple juice and down it. Then pour another glass (they're very small). I pause to look at it. There's mould floating in it. Well, isn't that just LOVELY? And isn't it good we hadn't had anyone buy any? I couldn't have noticed this before I'd drunk two glasses of it though, could I?

I drink a bit of orange juice instead, and grab a bar of chocolate off the bar as well, thinking that my bar tab is rocketing up by this point. Everyone goes up, and I sit down at my desk.

I post a cry for help on Twitter, Facebook, and Diabetes Support, saying I was on my own, and could anyone who had my mobile number check on me in ten minutes or so?

And bless their hearts, did people come through for me? Sam, Siobhan and Tom all texted me within a matter of minutes, asking if I was ok, did I have stuff to treat with, etc.

I was climbing slowly. 4.9, 5.2, all the way up to 6.8mmol/l (122mg/dl). Still felt like utter rubbish though, and my WORD was I hungry by now?

Interval comes, and we do a roaring trade on the bar. But I want to go home. Show has just finished, and now I'm at 10.7mmol/l (192.6 mg/dl), and I'm still having to think much harder than normal to type this correctly. 

Is it home and bed time yet? How was your day?