One of the most frustrating things about diabetes is that you never know what to expect. Monday I spiked before I ate dinner, only to land squarely at 99 by bedtime despite some cheesecake for dessert. And Tuesday? Tuesday evening was even more confusing.
Pete and I had our ballroom lesson and then stopped at Panera for dinner. Aside from liking Panera's soups, salads and sandwiches, I also love that their carb counts are readily available. I easily tallied up the carbs in my dinner and bolused.
A few hours later, I was playing around on the computer and felt a little low. My CGM showed me heading down towards the 70s. I knew I should test, but instead I just ate a big spoonful of peanut butter and a Dove Promise. About 20 minutes later my low alarm went off. I was starting to get that cloudy feeling in my brain and I was suddenly very sweaty. I couldn't remember where my meter was. I called for Pete, who brought it in from the kitchen and waited while I tested. 39 flashed on the screen and Pete ran for a juice box, which I quickly downed. I knew the 13g of carbs might not be enough, so Pete brought my favorite treatment for a very-low low . . . a spoonful of chocolate frosting.
After finishing that, I started to have that overwhelming urge to keep eating. I went to the kitchen and got another spoonful of frosting. Then I devoured one of those fruit strips Kerri turned me on to. A strawberry one. I wanted a grape one too but Pete was adamant that I had eaten plenty and I needed to stop. So I waited until he went upstairs and snuck one, quietly wolfing it down before he returned. Yes, I am five years old!
Fifteen minutes later I tested again and was 68. I got washed up for bed and did one last finger-stick . . . 83. I debated taking a unit or two of insulin because I knew I had over-treated. Pete talked me into letting it go and this time I listened to him. We knew my CGM would alarm me of the impending high and I could just correct then.
Sure enough, at 3 a.m., the shrill of the CGM woke me. I looked at the screen to see just how high I was . . . and was shocked to see it reporting a 68. "This thing is not working." I said out loud to no one, since Pete was sound asleep. I did a finger-stick to see how far off it was. Turns out, it was only off by one point. My blood sugar was 69. "What the ^@%$*#." I said to K.C, who had come to investigate. She stared blankly back at me - partly because she has yet to understand the intricacies of diabetes. And partly because at 3 a.m. all she is interested in is a scoop of kibble or a scratch underneath her chin.
I thought about eating a few carbs, but I decided against it. I've been waking up consistently around 100 every morning and I know that by 3 a.m. I start to rise a bit. So I went back to sleep. Three hours later, my fasting blood sugar was 58.
I just don't understand. I ate a big spoonful of peanut butter, a Dove Promise, a Motts Tot's juice box, two big spoons of chocolate frosting, a strawberry FruitaBü and a grape FruitaBü. And according to my CGM graph, I never went higher than 107. Yet Monday I had salad and an apple for lunch and soared into the 200s.
Diabetes, stop messing with me!!!
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