June 19th 2013, AKAThe Black Sheep of Diabetes Days

Today hasn't been the best Diabetes day.

I woke up a little high, in the 190-220 range, so did my correction dose and ate a healthy breakfast of oatmeal. By lunchtime I was hovering at an acceptable 180, and had a sandwich, grapes and a coke zero for lunch. I bolused for that as well as a little extra to get an even better number. When I pulled the pen out of my skin, I noticed some leakback. "Shoot!" I said. (No pun intended!)

"You alright?" Darrien, my roommate Crystal's brother, asked as he heard me and noticed my anxious face. As a side note, every Tuesday I stay at Crystal's house because I work a gig in Columbus at TGI Friday's on Tuesday's. I face paint and balloon twist, and really enjoy the job, but the trip back to Macon from Columbus is scary in the dark. There are no lights, no cell phone reception; really, there is no civilization at all except for a few little towns here and there. It's 90 miles of backwoods and there is no easy way to get there, so I am very grateful to be able to spend the night in Columbus and go back to Macon in the morning!

"I'm alright," I said. "I'll check again within the hour and make sure I'm OK." I thought about giving myself some extra, but didn't want to make myself low, either.

I ended up checking 45 minutes later. I was expecting something a little high - 200's maybe - but was entirely unprepared for what I saw on the screen. A 545 flashed at me and I did a double take. "What? WHAT?? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???" You've got to be kidding me," I yelled out loud. I could NOT fathom how my sugar had gotten that high. Even if I had leaked back, I had had half a sandwich and some fruit; it didn't seem like there could be an earthly way that I could have gotten that high, and I didn't even feel it. Frustrated, I dialed in a whopping 18 units and stuck myself, trying to wrap my head around the conundrum.

In Roberta, about another 30-40 minutes later, I checked again. 242. At least I was coming down, right?

I checked when I got back to Macon as well, and came in at about 239. Novolog finishes its work about 1.5 hours after injection, and so I gave another 3 units (my correction dose is 1unit/30mgdL), stopped by my room at Wesleyan, changed for the gym, at hopped on the treadmill for an hour.

I was determined; if all that didn't bring my down, it would seem that nothing would.

An hour later after I hop off the treadmill Josh calls, and we meet up and head back to my room. I sit on the bed and start to feel a little shaky. I know I am low, and test to find 52. I grab two mini ice cream sandwiches from the fridge (favorite snack), one for him and one for me, and eat that in order to coax my sugars back up. In the meantime I ride the pitiful wave of Diabetes low blood sugar purgatory, contemplating for the next 15 minutes or so how much I despise Diabetes and ruminate on my continuous annoyance with the disease. 

15 minutes later, I'm ok. Life goes on. Josh and I head to Zaxby's for an early dinner, and we order food and sit at the table to wait. I am trembling and I reach up to wipe a wet strand of hair from my face. I feel irritated. I test again, and come in at 56. I sigh, trying to be "cool", but I feel as though I'm going to keel over if I don't get my food soon. Joshua brings it over when our number is called and he might as well be carrying a treasure chest full of gold in that moment, I am so relieved. I gulp down my food and hope that this nightmarish string of high-low-high-low-lows is over for the day. I'm 70 later on but feel few-ish symptoms, and my nighttime snack cures any symptoms I may feel later on. Thankfully.

I feel better, I'm alive, I'm disappointed in how today's numbers turned out, but I am trying hard and do get a lot of good numbers for the most part. I guess today was just the black sheep of Diabetes days. Tomorrow will be better. I'll try harder. I am frustrated, but have to keep moving on. That's how this disease works. Always keep trying, improving, moving forward. Someday I won't have to. Someday I believe they'll find a cure. Listen to me, two years in and I'm already saying that as if it's something I have to believe in order to keep moving on. Someday...