Disrespecting glucagon

Though I took the photo, I didn’t bother reading the expiration dates.

My name is Scott, and it’s been 25 years since my last glucagon shot (spoken in true AA fashion).

I have about six of these things sitting on a shelf somewhere in my bedroom. I’ll bet that at least half of them are expired. I really don’t know. They never leave that spot — even when I go on extended vacation. Every so often, my wife asks me to remind her how to use it, but we never get around to doing so.

Some people, I feel, are more liberal with glucagon use than others. If they test and see a BG below, say, 50, they take a shot. For me, I see it as a method-of-last-resort — i.e. if I’m unconscious. If I can get food or liquid in my mouth, that’s what I’ll use. As I’ve been taught (or, at least I misunderstood the training), I should never have to give myself glucagon — because if I’m capable of doing so, I don’t need it.

(Flashback to the time when I was living alone, wandered to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get some juice from the fridge, and woke up later with an open bottle of apple juice on the floor, a nice bite on my tongue, and a possible concussion from hitting my head on the counter while falling to the ground).