I Wear My Insulin Bruises Like Battle Scars

Ouch. The insulin has struck back again, and this time with a vengeance. I know I've already blogged about my colorful, rainbow-riffic insulin bruises before, but this morning as I was getting ready, I just got to thinking about all of the things Diabetes would be like in a perfect world. (Granted if, in a perfect world, Diabetes did exist, which in mine it wouldn't).

1. In a perfect world, insulin injections wouldn't leave bruises. Or, for that matter, it wouldn't leave tiny microscopic holes in my skin, either. My stomach, my arms, my.... legs, would be perfectly bruise-free. Some people fear bikini season because of too many Holiday cookies - I fear bikini season because of my bruises. Nothing like having a great swimsuit to wear and a great bruise to match the color of that swimsuit right on the side of your stomach. In that elusive, perfect world with perfect Diabetes, bikini season would be worry-free for me, and people wouldn't have to wonder about whether my apartment-mate, Crystal, is beating me up. (ha-ha).

2. In a perfect world, the lancet would work on my finger the first time. Not the second, not the third, not the fourth... the first.I wouldn't have to keep upping the lancet depth from 2, to 3, to 4 and now, finally, to 5. My callused, though once-delicate fingers would not be as tough as a man's now. I wouldn't get ugly calluses on my fingertips, or tiny shallow depressions from where the lancet has pricked (the red marks have finally gone away) that just plain don't look good.
It's a good thing I'm not a fingertip model.

3. In a perfect world, I would NEVER, EVER not notice my insulin pen is nearly empty and either a.) run out of Novolog right in the middle of dinner (at a friend's house, out to eat --- never at home, it seems) or b.) run out of Lantus right as I'm about to go to bed, and am spending the night somewhere that is not my typical abode. This typically ruins my entire day, evening or outing and forces me to have to go back and get my insulin, or eat nothing. This has happened on Christmas... at a dinner out with friends... out with the family... nothing is sacred to Diabetes.

4. In a perfect world, I would never have to forgo eating lunch in the car when on the way to work. When I'm in full costume, driving and have no access to arms, legs or my stomach (such as a long-sleeved, full length gown), there's really just no way to give an insulin shot. Sometimes, I am able to stab myself with an insulin pen through my clothing, while driving (can you say impressive?), but most times I simply have to forgo eating. Which... is lame.
While we are on the topic of parties, I would never get random lows in the middle of parties. Doing a fashion show, painting 30 children and trying to act cheerful while doing so are all extremely difficult things to do, and they suddenly become about 5x more difficult when you're feeling low.

In a perfect world...... oh, forget it.

Chinese For Lunch.

"What do you want for lunch?" Joshua asked, as he climbed into my truck. I had just gotten out of my class at Mercer and had stopped by Josh's work on the way back to Wesleyan so that we could have lunch together. I take a class at Mercer, one of the other colleges in Macon during the week, because they offer several classes that Wesleyan doesn't and it gives me a good chance to get off campus. I told Joshua that I was still debating, and he suggested Zaxby's or Chinese. I eat Zaxby's about every other day it seems (I'm a big fan), so I decided to go with Chinese, and we found a place in the shopping center not far from his workplace.

We walked inside, the bell above the door clinging as we entered. I stared at the menu for a brief moment, saw that they offered chicken and vegetables sans-rice, and approached the man behind the counter. To this day there has only been one time that I have eaten a dish of rice since becoming Diabetic, and I found that I didn't like the direction rice pushed my glucose levels in. Rice and I just didn't agree with each other very well.

"I'd like the chicken and vegetables, please," I said, pointing at the menu.

The man stared at me quizzically.

"Erm..." I said, trying to figure out which would be the best way to convey to him my menu choice.
"I don't want the lunch with rice." I told him.

At this point, another man on his lunch break had gotten in line behind us.

Despite my best efforts he grabbed a plastic white lunch crate and started loading rice into it.
"Wait, no," I said quickly. "No, I don't want the rice."

The man starts shoveling more rice into the box. I wave my hands frantically. The man behind Joshua and I snickers a little.
"I just want chicken and vegetables! I'm Diabetic. I don't eat rice," I told him, trying to make him understand. The effort seemed futile as he hesitated for a moment, but then he dumped the rice back into the metal dish and called a woman who I assumed was his manager. He told me to wait.

The man behind us gets his lunch as we wait. As Joshua and I are waiting to get my correct order and the man is waiting to pay, he turns to me.

"My wife is Type 1 Diabetic," he says. "She doesn't eat Chinese often."
I look at him, realizing his laughing earlier suddenly made a great deal more sense.
"I don't either," I said. "But sometimes, I like to spoil myself," I said with a hint of a smile. "...minus the rice, anyways!"
I turned to Joshua. "What a small world, isn't it?" I was amazed at the random people I seemed to meet, who had connections to Diabetes,

The other woman finally came out. It took a good 5 minutes to explain to her what I wanted. "Chicken and vegetables," I said again, pointing to the lunch dish which was on the menu... "No rice, please", I said, almost pleadingly. After a few quizzical glances, the woman disappeared in the back for about 10 minutes. When she came out I had my box of chicken and vegetables... and at long last, NO RICE!

Joshua and I walked back out to the car, and he opens the door for me. The other man comes out as I shut the door, sees my and smiles. He mouths,

"That woman is crazy!," And I laugh.

Not only do I have Chinese for lunch, but, at least for a few short minutes, I have met someone else who I know understands what I'm going through. It makes me feel a little bit less alone.

One of the Only Roller Coasters I Can Honestly Say I Don't Want to Ride...

*Note to reader: I've been meaning to publish this for a while, but this post was started in February, and my blood glucose levels have evened out considerably since then.

My forehead began to sweat and I watched as my hand, covered in a latex glove, trembled erratically. My breath caught in my mouth and my heart sunk down low, picking up force and rapidity steadily. I swallowed and walked to the trashcan, pulling the gloves off of my hands, balling them up and tossing them away in disgust. I walked into the coat room, already knowing exactly what it is I was going to find:

52, staring at me on the screen, the tenth low over a 3-day period. I closed my eyes, trying to clear my head, and then throwing my meter down stormed into the dining hall. I grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on my way to the floor, sinking down in an utter state of mental and physical exhaustion. I bit into the apple, tasting salty tears as I did so. I fought the tears back, but it was like trying to hold back water behind a dam riddled from top to bottom with cracks. Tears began to roll down my face.

Oh, how I cried. This was the first time I had gone to any type of camp since being diagnosed with Diabetes. I've experienced a great deal of things with Diabetes, but this was all new to me. The physical work that we did for a good deal of the day with little break was very tiring. My friends and I were on Work Crew for Northland Church's Christmas camp. But as an ex-competitive gymnast, hard work was something that could be easily dealt with. I was able and strong enough. In fact, camp so far had been a wonderful experience. When it came to the work, my mind wasn't the problem, and neither was my stamina. It was my compromised body that was ultimately failing me, as my glucose levels just couldn't catch up and level out to adjust with the sudden increase in physical activity. Despite the lower amounts of insulin I had been giving myself, I had had 5 lows consecutively on Day 1, 3 on Day 2 and now, on Day 3, I was on the 2nd of the day, and it was only 11:15 AM.

My friend Trent walked over, saw me, and sat down next to me silently. His presence comforted me, reminding me that I wasn't alone, reminding me that my friends and the people close to me made this struggle to live with my disease worth it. But still, coping with the frustration of not being able to control my body was so frustrating. I was used to telling myself to do something, and then doing it - always. To find that now I couldn't always do that was a difficult pill to swallow, and I resented the fact.

Two months later, I stared at the meter screen. The meter at 9:00 AM had read 232, and it now read 545 after bolusing for breakfast and giving myself a correction dosage (to bring my levels down).

Two days later, my meter read 182 after going out to eat at my favourite pizza place 4 hours earlier. 3 hours later, the meter read 447. My mouth was so parched I could hardly swallow, and my body felt physically immovable. I suffered through the night with a bottle of water by my side.

My sugars have been doing exactly what they are not supposed to do; "roller-coasting".

High.

Low.

High.

High.

High.

Just right.

Low.

High.

Low.
... Wow, am I really 92? *Re-checks* Really? Seriously??

Low.

Acceptable.

High.

I'm so over this. It seems as though every time I get my levels just right, and my insulin dosages spot-on... something causes them to change. Activity levels, insulin-to-carb ratio... the weather in Greece... someone sneezing across campus... I swear, my insulin ratios are as finicky as a 3 year old.

From December all the way until February, I just couldn't seem to get my levels in check. Sometimes they will be perfect, but most days my sugars won't miss a chance to read either something way too low, or something ridiculously high. I have no clue why all of the insulin changes are happening. Before Winter Break my insulin ratio was one level (12 to 1), then it changed and it took me a good 3 weeks to figure out that it was 6:1. Then, right after my endocrinologist visit in December it changed to about 9:1...and then after Christmas camp to 12:1... back to 8:1 again in February. These changes seem very small and infinitesimal to the healthy non-Diabetic, but in actuality they can make an enormous difference. Picture it this way:

If you think your insulin ratio is 10:1 and you eat 45 grams of carbs, you'll round up and give yourself 5 units of insulin. But if your ratio is 6:1, suddenly you need about 8 units. If each unit of insulin lowers your blood sugar by 50 mg/dL, your sugar will end up being about 150 milligrams per deciliters too high... which could be the difference between an "80" and a "230". That's an enormous difference, especially if you decide to have a slice of cake one evening. It works the opposite way too - if you think your insulin ratio is lower than it actually is, you will bolus too much and end up low every single time you eat.

This is the extreme frustration that I've lived through for 3 straight months. After a while it makes you fearful to eat carbs at all - I just can't pin my numbers down quite right and have resorted to living off of protein shakes and salads, mostly. It also changes your perception - 200 doesn't seem too bad when your levels have read 400 for the last 8 hours. But I have been so disappointed in myself, because 1. I tend to be hard on myself and 2. Once again I feel like a failure and feel as though people would look down upon me for not being able to properly control my blood sugars. After all, perception or no this is a very bad thing, because any way you look at it, your sugars simply shouldn't be at 200, especially when you're aiming for a target of 130.
In fact, it's this roller coaster of sugars that is so bad for those with Diabetes, and to my understanding is what causes a good deal of the future complications like Diabetic retinopathy and neuropathy, not to mention slower healing.

Great, huh?

Diabetes, can I please get off of this roller coaster now?