GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #646: ANOTHER BRUSH WITH DEATH

I took the week off from writing these, so naturally I nearly died on my first day off. Last Monday I almost fell into a coma and died because of something I would have never seen coming.

I remember taking my insulin as directed, so that wasn't the problem. I'd eaten a whole pizza all by myself on Sunday, so in theory my blood sugar should have been high. Not dangerously high, but high enough to make my endocrinologist cringe.

I went to bed at my usual time, but for whatever reason I woke up in the middle of the night, or rather early Monday morning. I felt weird, and I thought maybe it was just the sleeping pills not kicking in. I think I woke up because I was sweating, and I can't sleep when I'm sweating. I tried to go back to sleep, but there was just this feeling in my body that wouldn't let me. It's hard to describe it, but I just knew something was wrong.

It took me too long to figure out, hey, it might be my blood sugar. I reminded myself that it should be high right now, but I decided to check it just in case. As I sat up, my hands started shaking, and I felt a little ill. More than just a little off. And I knew that my blood sugar was low before I tested it. It shouldn't have been, but it was.

I pricked my finger (very different from fingering my prick), and when I saw the blood sugar reading I was shocked. 49 was very, very close to coma territory. If I'd fallen into a coma, I would have died. The only thing that could have saved me is if my brother noticed, but he wouldn't have. At that hour he's in the basement playing online games. He probably would have checked on me at some point on Monday if I hadn't left my bedroom, but by then it would have been too late.

Luckily I keep chocolate near my bed just in case. Something my grandfather once told me to do. My doctors would have preferred it to be bread, but I needed an atom bomb of sugar in that moment. So I gobbled a bunch of almond M&Ms and waited for my body to feel normal again.

That was a pretty close call, but I've been handed a death sentence before. It's like Death isn't even trying. Or maybe I keep slipping through the cracks? No, he's got to be fucking with me by this point, right?

I was once told by friends that, despite my bad habits, I would outlive everyone. Just my luck, they might be right.