Holy crap, it was just a matter of time before pop culture came up with a word that describes so much of my existence. I spent years with undiagnosed blood sugar problems. Years that postponed my ability to drive, a real crimp in the lifestyle of a late teen. Years that made me think that my glucose mediated emotionality was just something I had to work on in psychotherapy, emotional regulation really goes right out the window when your blood sugar is plumeting, but who knew? Not me! I had hints. I worked as a unit secretary while a starving (literally) college student. One night, the nurses, sick of my shitty mood, said “Have you had ANYTHING to eat today?” and when I grumpily conceded that my work schedule resulted in my missing the two weekend meals my crappy meal plan offered, they practically held me down and did a finger stick. A $20 was pressed into my hand and a nurse walked me to the cafeteria to get food. “No, not that. Get this. You need sugar” she said, swapping my diet soda for a sugary one. Another “hint” came later, when I was married to the ER resident. I came home from grocery shopping in a wretched mood. I was actually slurring my words too, as I muttered expletives at my husband, the groceries, the cabinets, and the refrigerator. “When was the last time you ate?” my ex asked me. I don’t recall my exact words but my reaction went something like “YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO INVALIDATE MY TOTALLY VALID ANGER! YOU MEN ALWAYS TRY TO MAKE WOMEN THINK THAT THEIR EMOTIONS ARE BIOLOGICALLY MEDIATED! F*$K YOU BOB!” Bob, to his credit, calmly mixed me a juice with a spoonful of sugar. “Drink this. If you’re still pissed off, we can fight then.” Ah, the chagrin of realizing he was right.
And then the diabetic. My grad school boyfriend who was a type 1 diabetic and who played games with his blood sugar and insulin like a gambling addict at the races. Dietary restrictions be damned, he had a glucose infusion set and a blood sugar meter. We checked my sugar a few times when I was being shitty, and what do you know? Low. 60s and 50s and one horrible night, so low he wouldn’t tell me, just force fed me candy while I re-enacted scenes from the Exorcist.
So here it is, the pop culture reference I’ve been waiting all my life for. Enjoy!