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Monday, August 31, 2015


Sometimes I really don’t want to think about Diabetes anymore. I would really like to just enjoy my life like a “normal person”. My management has been OK – certainly not great but certainly not horrendous. I’ll have blood drawn in about 6 weeks and I am hoping to make further improvements by then. I am not logging. But I am being diligent. But not obsessive. I’m just so over thinking about Diabetes ALL THE TIME. Honestly – I feel like I deserve better quality of life than that. My eating is good – meaning that I am eating things that I pretty much know what they will do to my BG, which makes it relatively easy (at least a lot easier than say Chinese food takeout or beer and pizza). I am thinking about having kids still – in fact I spent the weekend reading a baby book – not necessary because pregnancy is imminent but just because I would rather know about all the fun and gory details ahead of time (Aside: when I read about postpartum lactation during sex/orgasms, white wine shot out of my nose – it was that unexpected and really really funny). I will not spend my pregnancy (whenever it happens) obsessing. I repeat – I will NOT spend it obsessing. I am a hypochondriac. You’ve heard about the skin rash of the summer (I obsessed and it was nothing!) – now you will hear about my foot (hint: I obsessed and it was nothing). In a stupid effort to prevent my muddy dog from running into the house, I raised my bare foot to stop her from entering, but she just plowed right into it – with her teeth (poor thing) – leaving two nasty teeth imprints/blood blisters on the bottom of my foot :/ Of course I spent a good amount of time obsessing (e.g. reading up on dry gangrene and diabetes due to the blackish color of the blisters, which is of course normal). Of course my foot healed completely in the textbook time of 3 weeks it takes for a blood blister to dry up and peel off (gross). But yeah – I checked it – every day, multiple times (driving my husband up the wall I think). As a PWD I am primed to suspect bad stuff (teeth, feet, skin, you-name-it). Being a scientist in the biomedical field, exaggerates that further I think. But I am definitely over the threshold of “healthy obsession” (I think it’s normal to be concerned if you have a foot injury and diabetes, and make sure that it does not get infected and is healing properly, etc.) and into the “full on crazy obsession" (e.g. I have a blister on my foot so of course it’s going to get infected and not heal properly and of course I will face the horrible complications). NOT healthy. Speaking of complications from diabetes, I hate thinking about it, but I also somewhat feel like it’s inevitable. Which is a stupid thing to think because I don’t know that. I don’t know and no one does – YDMV. Then again, perhaps the unhealthy obsessions are just a result of guilt for not being “perfect” or working as hard as possible all the time to manage this disease the way I *should. I have a feeling others may have felt this way too at times.

Anyway – I am still trying to find a balance that encompasses diligent self-care and living the life I want to live without sweating the small stuff (but being honest and responsible) about my health. 

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

A Low Tale

A few months back, after a full Saturday of hiking and then drinking in the evening, I went to bed at a safely higher number and woke up early on Sunday morning to a BG of 180-something. I decided to take about ¼ U Humalog along with my morning Levemir and went back to bed. An hour and a half later I woke up (sort of). Drenched in sweat and feeling like I am starting to trip. Low low low. I knew I was probably low, but for some reason in my still sleepy haze I was quite calm about it. ¼ U of Humalog – I must be in the 80s or 70s but dropping still because of the exercise and ethanol from yesterday I thought. I got up (sort of). More like forced my arms to lift my ever-so-heavy body up and onto the carpet (I don’t keep snacks or a glucometer near the bed, but perhaps I should). My legs did not feel like they really wanted to move at all (at all!) but I used all remaining brain-power to rescue myself as I balanced ever-so-slowly towards the kitchen. The 30 feet or so of walking seemed loaded with every ounce of effort I could muster. I got to the kitchen – cold cold cold floor. I reached into my purse on the kitchen counter, pulled out my meter case, unzipped it, got out a strip, put it in, pricked my finger, and waited. 46.

I grabbed 2 Capri Suns and my testing supplies in my hands and “walked” back to the bedroom, where I promptly fell into bed and tried to keep myself propped up against the wall as I struggled to keep my balance and punch the straw into the juice box. “B, B, I’m 46. I am trying to get this juice open.” And then (as if I really was tripping) I began to sort of laugh uncontrollably. It seemed so incredibly ridiculous to me at that moment that I could not get that straw into the juice box. I finally did and then proceeded to suck it down. Juice number 2 – B had to help me get the straw in that one, much to my amusement. As I sat there, waiting for the carbs to kick in, fighting the urge to pass out/sleep (which one I am not sure), I felt a ridiculous amount of calm and control. “I’ll be fine” I said. “Go to sleep, I will sit here and wait it out”. B’s hand reached out to me and squeezed my hand, as I used the other to wipe/smear the sweat all over my face and chest. “I could barely walk to the kitchen” I said. “It was sooo difficult.” And then I kind of laughed some more, like a crazy person.

A BG check 15-20 minutes later showed a 65, and in half hour a 99. I went back to bed. I woke up an hour later, started breakfast, felt “lowish”, tested and was 79. I ate without blousing, contemplating my next move. Eventually, the increased insulin sensitivity as a result of the previous day’s activities subsided and I was able to resume some “Normalcy”. I am still amazed at my calm demeanor throughout the event, as I haven’t been in the 40s in many years. It took me about three months to finally write it down -

The weirdest low I have ever had.