Four Lows, A High and A Snuggly Cat . . .

Last night I slept without a sensor.  I’ll be traveling later in the week and delayed inserting my new sensor so its life will span the entire time I’m sleeping solo in a hotel room.  I don’t know how diabetes inherently knows that I’m lacking the safely net of my sensor, but somehow it does.  And it picks that time to go completely off the rails.

Pete and I are working our way through The West Wing on Netflix, and we settled in to watch another episode from Season 2 before bed.  I did a finger-stick to make sure things were good.


They were.  But I did another about an hour before bed to see which way my numbers were heading.


Ugh.  While 73 isn’t too terrible a number for me in general, the fact that it flashed up an hour before bedtime, and that I had dropped 20 points in 30 minutes, was not what I was hoping for.  So I had four fruit Tootsie Rolls and we watched the end of the episode.  An hour later I was ready for one last finger-stick and some much needed sleep.


Diabetes had another plan.  54 is an unsafe number for me at any time, and the fact that I continued to drop after treating was troubling.  So I ate three Orange Cream Glucolifts (yum) and brushed my teeth.  Then I played with K.C. until the 15 minute mark had passed so I could confirm I was back up and finally sleep.


Nope, diabetes was really laughing at me now.  My swearing woke Pete up, who saw the 43 and headed downstairs to get me some juice.  Juice isn’t really my low treat of choice, but it always brings me up and works very fast when I’m really low.  So juice it was, and a good amount at that.  My only symptom during this long bout of lows was some hefty anxiety, which melted away.  So I brushed my teeth again and drifted off to sleep.  Until I woke up two hours later with my mind nagging me to finger-stick again.


Okay, WTF??????  I didn’t want to wake Pete again so I was much quieter when I swore.  I knew I probably needed more than just the Glucolift on my nightstand.  So I stumbled downstairs, where I ate two Peeps horded from Easter, some Dots and four crackers with crunchy peanut butter.  I went back upstairs to brush my teeth a third time, during which I dropped the toothpaste and knocked over a cup and ended up waking poor Pete up anyway.  I played on my phone a bit until I was confident it was safe to sleep.  And it was a nice three hours of rest until K.C. meowed me awake to give her a snuggle.  She does this several times each night.  She’s very sweet and loving, which means I’m  generally very tired.  But in this case, I was glad she got lonely, because as she settled in next to me and I began petting her I could tell things weren’t good.  The palms of my hands and the soles of my feet felt like sandpaper.  My lips felt like they would start cracking at any minute.  And my mouth was so so dry and I was so so thirsty.


Yeah.  I don’t even know what to say.  I took a correction plus one unit, as is usually needed when I find myself over 250.  I got up yet again to have some water and check for ketones (which thankfully were negative, so at least one thing went right last night).  When the alarm went off two hours later, I was still 207 but with enough active insulin working to bring me back into range.  However, I don’t think there is enough active caffeine working to rid me of feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck.

Okay, diabetes.  You won the battle last night.  But tonight we spar again, and I’m really hoping to win this time.  Because I really need to sleep . . . .

Wordless Wednesday - Ooops . . .

That moment when you’re treating a low and decide to refill your “low bin” . . . .


Jelly beans everywhere.  On the island and on the floor.  Also, not shown in this picture, under the stove, in the pantry and in the dining room.   It seriously looked like the Easter Bunny threw up.  And it took me FOR-EVER to get them all gathered and into the garbage.  I think my cat might still be batting a few around.

#lowproblems

That Loaf of Bread . . . .

As I made my way down one of the last few grocery store aisles, I started to feel that familiar fuzzy feeling.  A glance at my continuous glucose monitor showed that my blood sugar was indeed trending downward.  (Stupid grocery shopping, why do you almost always make me low??)  I gobbled a packet of fruit snacks from my purse and pressed on.  If it all worked out as I hoped, I could grab the last few things on my list and check out while the fruit snacks brought up my blood sugar.  I’d be back in a safe range just as I was ready to drive home.

But then again, diabetes often has a way of not working out as I hoped.

I suddenly realized I had been loitering in the bakery section.  Then I noticed how sweaty I was.  Then I looked down at my phone.  My grocery store has this cool app that allows me to scan my groceries with my phone as I shop, and bag them right in the shopping cart.  My phone showed that two loaves of wheat bread had been scanned.  How weird, I didn’t buy any bread yet.  And I was looking for sourdough, not wheat.  (I bake my own wheat bread from scratch these days.)

And then I looked in the bag in my shopping cart, and there was a loaf of wheat bread staring back at me.  I had no recollection of taking it off the shelf, scanning it (twice!!) and putting it in  my bag.  That?  That really freaked me out.

I took a deep breath.  I deleted the bread from my phone and put it back on the shelf.  I then found the sourdough,  grabbed and scanned one loaf, and added it to my bag.  I also took a look through the rest of the charges on my phone and the items in my bag, to make sure they matched.  They did.  But what would have happened if they didn’t?  What if my hazy low found  me putting something in my bag without scanning it, and I happened to be chosen for a random audit that day?

These thoughts really freak me out too.  Since that day, I won’t go to the store unless my blood sugar is nearing 200.

And I really hate that.

Share-ing with Shannon . . . .

When I offered to “follow” Shannon's Dexcom Share, I thought I’d simply have her back if she needed someone.  After all, I know she is well equipped to take care of herself.  But I also know there have been times when I’ve been in the throes of a low, sitting with a packet of fruit snacks in my hand and trying to figure out if I should eat them.  Sometimes we just need someone to tell us to “Drink your juice, Shelby”.  If needed, I was happy to do that for Shannon.

Share-ing with Shannon has been what I expected . . . . but it’s also given me something unexpected.  You see, I know what it's like to have a low blood sugar.   I can easily list the vast and varied symptoms that might pop up with any given low.  But I realize I had no idea how it feels when someone you care about is having a low blood sugar.   In this way, Share-ing has given me a peek inside the world of my loved ones.

To clarify, our Share is one-sided - I don’t use the Dexcom CGM so I can’t Share back with Shannon. (Although soon MiniMed Connect will allow me to do something similar with my 530G with Enlite!)  The only notification I’ve set up is the “Urgent Low” one, because I know she can handle the highs and the slight lows.  But when we fall under 55, sometimes we need some help.  At least, I sometimes do.  (No data in the picture on the left, because I respect Shannon’s privacy.)

Getting a peek inside the “Type 3” world has been interesting.  Although I hope I have a bit more insight coming out of the gate, since I've experienced tons of lows myself.  I’m definitely careful with the words I chose when texting to check in on Shannon.  Usually my texts simply read “Hi!!  You okay?”  Because I don’t want to nag her and I don’t want to interrupt her.  She needs to focus on treating that low - so as long as I know that’s happening I can leave her to it.  I actually feel guilty for bothering her when she’s probably feeling crappy.  But I know that if the low has her too confused to treat, I need to nag her!

The really eye-opening part for me happened about a week ago.  The “Shannon Is Low” alarm buzzed around 4:30 a.m.  I texted . . . and waited . . . and didn’t get a response.  Panic rushed in fierce and quick!  I texted again, and then I thought about how we’d never discussed what I should do if the alarm buzzes and she doesn’t respond.  I was hesitant to call her in the middle of the night knowing she has three small boys in the house that need their sleep.  Just as I was deciding it was safer to just wake up her whole household, she replied and my panic was washed away on a wave of relief.

We talked about it the next day and agreed that yes, I should call her, and that the boys probably wouldn’t hear her cell ringing anyway so no worries there.  But I have to tell you - that moment of panic has made me love and admire our Type 3s even more.  I’m great at complaining about all the diabetes crap I have to deal with.  But the fear and helplessness my husband must feel when I’m in the throes of a bad low?  I hadn’t fully comprehended how that feels until Shannon didn’t answer my text.  And I’m grateful to understand it better now.  It’s made Pete an even bigger hero to me than he already was . . .

You can check out Shannon’s take on “Share”-ing over here.

The Fear . . . .

Do you remember that bad low I wrote about last week?  Although it’s in the past, I find it has left me with an unexpected “side effect”.  Fear.

I’m not used to being afraid of going low.  Well, okay, I supposed I’m always a little bit afraid because lows can be serious and deserve a smidgen of healthy caution.  But for the most part I tend to worry more about highs than lows.  That has all changed.  I find myself getting panicky when my CGM low alarm rings.  I get scared when I feel the familiar fuzzy and shaky feeling.  Worse yet, my Fitbit stats tell me I’m averaging around 3,000 steps a day - no where near my 10,000 a day goal.  And I know my lack of steps is solely due to my fear of going low.

I think the reason this one is different from the rest is because it seemingly came out of nowhere.  In my 35+ years with diabetes there have been very few lows when I can’t remember what happened.  And they’ve occurred either in the middle of the night (when I likely slept through the low symptoms) or when I was already treating but it didn’t work fast enough.  This time was different.  This time, I was fine one minute and definitely not fine the next.

There is, of course, a silver lining.  I’m paying more attention.  I’m wearing my CGM continuously.  I’m testing more and not ignoring my Low Predicted alarms. That break I felt I needed is long gone. I even find I'm rarely swagging boluses, instead actually counting my carbs as precisely as I can in the hopes of avoiding a (now dreaded) over-bolus.

Sure, this sounds good - this reawakened attention to diabetes details.  And it is good, if it didn’t come with a huge dose of fear.  Because I don’t want to - I can’t - let myself live in the shadow of diabetes fear.  I’m hopeful the fear will just fade as that low moves farther and farther into my past.  But if you have any tips for overcoming it faster, I’d sure love to hear them.

That Moment When . . .

That moment when awareness flits in and out, as if carried by butterflies.  Deep inside I wish it would just crash in all at once.  I’m sure that would be easier.  I take another sip.  My water tastes so weird, almost fruity.  But I clearly remember our conversation as Pete poured our dinner drinks.  He offered iced tea, but I wanted water so that’s what he poured me.

Another sip.  No, I’m quite sure this isn’t water.  I suddenly notice my glass of water on the coffee table and realize I have a second glass in my hand.  “Wait.  What am I drinking?”  “It’s your Low Juice”, Pete replies.  That doesn’t make sense.  “Why?  Was I low?”

“Yes, baby.  I think it was a bad one.”

As we talk, a few more pieces of the puzzle come back, but never enough to fill in the whole picture.  My blood sugar must have dropped really fast, and Pete said he could tell I was low even before my CGM alarmed.  For one thing, I was just staring blankly at the T.V.  As he tells me this, I suddenly remember how confusing the show we were watching was.  That show?  It was Seinfeld.  Not a confusing show at all.  Then he tells me my hand was shaking so badly I could barely eat my cheeseburger.  Oh yes, I do remember trying to take bites while my whole arm jolted around.  I wonder why that didn’t seem odd to me at the time.

Pete asks if I remember my pump suspending.  I don’t, but sure enough when I look it has suspended.  I also don’t remember him getting me the juice.  I actually don’t remember much else about the time that passed during that low.  I imagine it’s like when you drink so much that you black out, without the fun, silly drunk time before the blackout but with the same hung-over feeling afterward.  (I’m guessing at this because I’ve never actually drank so much that I blacked out.)  There is only one other small memory that floats back to me, and I have the chuckle at the irony.  I remember thinking that it has been a very long time since I’d had a really bad low.  Maybe since that one I had while watching an early episode of Mad Men, when I got combative and yelled curse words and didn’t even realize what I was doing.  That’s right, as I sat there smugly thinking that I hadn’t had a bad low in a very long time, I was actually deep in the throes of a bad low and didn’t realize it.  Oh Diabetes, you sure love to eff with my mind, don’t you?

"You must be really sweaty, Sweetheart.”.  His words snap me back from my memories and I realize that yes, I am really sweaty and I’m shivering.  So I head upstairs for a shower, but not before apologizing for having such a bad low and scaring Pete.  In fact, I apologize over and over that night, and even for a few days more, even though I kind of know this wasn’t my fault.  I can’t help but feel sorry for putting him through that.

I also can’t help feeling the fear.  I’m not used the letting fear be one of the emotions tied to diabetes, but it’s wormed its way through and has settled in.  I let me mind go to the place where I wonder what would’ve happened if Pete hadn’t been home to help me.  If I had been driving.  If I had been with people who don’t know what a bad low looks like and what to do when it happens.  I don’t let my mind dwell on this too long, but right now I can’t completely block out the fear.

Favorites and Motivations - #DBlogWeek Day 6

Welcome to Day Six of the Sixth Annual Diabetes Blog Week.  It may be the weekend, but we are still going strong.  We officially have almost 200 bloggers signed up to participate.  I just want to send out a quick thank you to the DOC for all of the enthusiasm and support this week, and for all the time spent writing posts, reading posts by others, and leaving comments.  I’m guessing I’m not the only one who has been wishing for a housekeeper and personal chef this week?

Today’s topic is Favorites and Motivations.  If you have been blogging for a while, what is your favorite sentence or blog post that you have ever written?  Is it diabetes related or just life related?  If you are a new blogger and don't have a favorite yet, tell us what motivated you to start sharing your story by writing a blog?  (Thank you Laddie of Test Guess and Go for suggesting this topic.)


I started Bitter~Sweet in 2008 and have written exactly 700 posts (not including this one).  So picking a favorite is quite a tall order.  But the more I think about it, the more I realize my favorite blog post that I’ve ever written wasn’t published here.  It is a guest post I wrote for Kerri back in 2010.  It’s my story of why I always carry plenty of supplies to treat low blood sugars.  Hope you enjoy it too!



Here are more Favorites and Motivations - Saturday 5/16 posts.
What is Diabetes Blog Week? Click here for an explanation.  You can also check out a list of participants over here.

The Anti-Betes . . . . .

Every so often I go through a weird string of incessant lows.  There are chunks of time, several days or more, when I just can’t seem to keep my blood sugar up.  (I don’t think I’m the only one who goes through this, either, so if you have diabetes you probably know what I’m talking about.)  Pete refers to these weird low periods as “anti-betes”.

“What?  “I’m low again?”
“Sounds like you have the anti-betes.”

“Unbelievable.  We had Mexican food for dinner last night and I never went high.  In fact, I had to treat lows twice.”
“Must be the anti-betes.”

It’s a silly little turn of phrase that keeps me from going totally insane when my blood sugar throws dip after dip at me.  I’m in a period of anti-betes right now.  It started with that very scary low last week.  And it simply has not let up. My poor Fitbit stats are suffering because I’m practically too low to move.  Now is the time to indulge in carb heavy foods without facing the blood sugar consequences.  Pete wanted Macaroni and Cheese?  No problem.  Yes, we did have Mexican food - enchiladas and rice and chips with salsa.  My high alarm did not ring.  It’s completely crazy and as much as I hate high blood sugars (so much more than I hate lows) I’d almost welcome a bunch of them right now.  Especially after last night.

I’m a really light sleeper.  Which is why I was really surprised to wake up sometime after 4:00 this morning to find my pump had suspended.  The Threshold Suspend alarm on my 530G is crazy loud but somehow I had slept right through it.  In fact, upon reviewing my Alarm History it seems I slept through it twice!!

This shows that my pump was suspended from 11:45pm to 1:45am.

And this shows that my pump suspended again from 2:08am to 4:08am. It shows that my blood sugar was in the 40s both times. And let me assure you, this sensor has been spot on. Before bed it read 93 and my fingerstick was 96.

At 4:15ish when I awoke, after 4 hours without basal insulin, I was spiking and needed a correction.  Which is completely fine by me because that big gap .at the bottom of the graph shows that I spent several hours with my blood sugar below 40.  And I can feel it this morning.  Although I slept through it, my body does not feel the least bit rested.  I corrected for the spike and went back to sleep.  My graph shows me topping out in the 180s before starting to come back down.  My fasting was 139 with a tiny correction needed along with my coffee bolus.  And by 9:30 my blood sugar was back in the 90s.

Today I’m feeling grateful and privileged for the diabetes technology I am lucky to be using.  I’m thinking back to the 1980s when I didn’t even have a blood glucose meter, let alone a CGM and insulin pump.  And I’m pushing away thoughts of how last night would have gone if I slept through those blood sugars in the 40s without having technology going to bat for me.

And as I wrap up this post so I can go treat yet another low, I’m  really looking forward to the end of this current instance of anti-betes.

** My Medtronic disclosure can be found here. **

This is a Low . . . .

This is a low.  It’s the moment when you go from “I feel a little bit funny” to “Oh crap, this is bad”.  When you begin eating anything you can get your hands on.  When you start seeing dark spots before your eyes.  When you wander around the house feeling like your consciousness is slowly slipping in and out.  When you feel fear begin to take over.

This is a low. When suddenly you can think of nothing but the comment you just left on Facebook.  You only vaguely remember what you typed and you can only hope it made sense - at least a little bit.  You know the person you were commenting to has diabetes too, so even if you type complete nonsense he will understand.  But you still can’t help but feel really embarrassed.

This is a low.  When you are suddenly overcome with exhaustion.  When you wander upstairs with a bag of chips in your hand, shoving them into your mouth as you crawl back into bed.  When you snuggle up to your cat because even though you know she can’t help, you feel a weird safety in the knowledge that you’re in the presence of another living creature.  When you continue to pet her as you shut your eyes, knowing that as long as you can still hear her purring softly beside you, everything is okay.

This is a low.  When, thankfully, the food you’ve inhaled finally starts to overtake the insulin in your body.  When the clouds in your mind finally start to part and instead of feeling like you’re fading away you start to feel whole again.  Like you’re a little more there then you were a minute ago.  When it feels like someone pulled back a heavy curtain that was in your brain and solid thoughts flood in like strong rays of sunshine.  When you feel relieved to know everything is going to be okay.  When you are no longer sure you are about to die.

This is a low.

Time Stands Still . . . .

Isn’t it funny how time can seem to pass at such varied speeds?  The weekends zip by in a blink while weekdays pass much more slowly.  Today I’m willing to put money on the fact that winter is three times as long as any other season.  (Yeah, I know that isn’t true, but as I look out the window and see everything coated in ice it sure feels true.)  And, of course, there are many times when diabetes certainly makes time crawl.  Like when?  Well, I’m glad you asked.

Pre-bolusing!  I try to dose my insulin about 20 minutes before I eat.  And oh my gosh, those 20 minutes take FOREVER to pass.

Coming down from a high!  Ugh, high blood sugars.  Sleepy, achy, thirsty, syrupy. sluggish torture.  Even the fastest of our fast acting insulin can’t provide relief quickly enough.  And the whole time I’m trying to talk myself out of rage-bolusing, which will only result in a ride on the glucocoaster.  And I hate rollercoasters of any kind!

Starting a new sensor!  It takes two hours after inserting a new sensor before you can enter the first calibration to get it up and running.  In those two hours it’s important to keep blood sugars as stable as possible.  Which is actually kind of laughable, because, you know, diabetes doesn’t really play that way.  Suddenly very hungry?  Sorry, wait two hours.  Feel yourself dropping low (which, ironically, you probably would’ve caught sooner if your sensor was running)?  Well, you have to treat, but now you’d better wait even longer before putting in that first sensor calibration.  Oh the things that happen in those two interminable hours.

Coming up from a low!  Or, more fairly, coming up  from a nasty low.  You know the ones?  Shaky, sweaty, confused, feeling like you are going to keel over any minute.  I really despise those lows, and they usually seem to drag on forever!

Are you with me on this?  What other instances have I missed when diabetes makes time absolutely crawl?

Low-Brained To-Do List . . . .

It was one of those bad middle of the night lows.  One that freaks me out later when I realize what a difficult time I had waking myself up.  The meter flashed 43 and I cursed the fact that I wasn’t wearing my CGM because I had received a new transmitter that day but hadn’t taken the time to set it up.  I woke Pete and told him I was low but okay and that I would head down to the kitchen to treat.  I then arranged my meter just so on the night stand.  Then I looked for my glasses.  Then I paused to pet the cat.  And put on socks.  There were so many things that seemed more important than treating that sweaty low.  Clearly I was not in my right mind and instead running on Low-Brain.

As I sat on the kitchen bench eating, my (low) brain was whirring a mile in minute, coming up with ever so important things that I was sure would be forgotten by morning.  So what did I do?  I stopped treating that sweaty blood glucose of 43 and instead went into my home office / craft room to dig out a pad and pen so I could jot down all of the extremely important things.  And, of course, the next morning it was quite obvious that most of my list items weren’t actually very important at all.



For example, first on the list was “Buy more Fritos”.  The thing is, I don’t even really like Fritos but I had bought some for a get-together.  And as I stuffed them into my mouth trying to feed that insatiable low hunger, they were suddenly the most delicious thing on the face of the earth.  I absolutely needed to remember to buy more.  I apparently also really needed to look into buying a spare remote control and new battery for the light / ceiling fan fixture in our kitchen.  (What???)  And yes, sending a wrap up email and submitting my report for the latest DiabetesSisters Virtual PODS meet up was important, but chances were slim that I wouldn’t remember to get it done.  After all, I remember every month without the help of a to-do list scrawled as dawn breaks.

But the list item that really makes me laugh is the one that reads “Blog post about low experience tonight”.  Well, okay, check that off the to-do list.  However, I think I need to add one more to-do to this important list . . . . . .  

“Stop doing stupid stuff like making to-do lists and treat that low!”

Motivation . . . .

When I’m really in the throes of diabetes burn-out, I can’t seem to muster the motivation to wear my CGM sensor.  That is where I have been lately.  Until this happened the other night.


Five hours later, when I got up for the day, you can bet I put a new sensor on.  It seems waking at just after 2:00 am with a dangerously low blood sugar was all the motivation I needed.

New Low Symptom . . . .

I was a mere 2 hours into my 6 1/2 hour flight Sunday (which was almost more like 7 because we boarded on time but took off over 30 minutes late). Suddenly a wave of homesickness hit. It didn't seem odd - I like to travel but I also always miss home too. But when the homesickness got so strong that I found tears streaming down my cheeks I knew something wasn't right. The first thing I thought to do was check my blood sugar. 34. It seems that I had silenced my low alarm while napping in my seat.

Once I treated it, I found I didn't feel the aching homesickness any more. But during the remaining (LONG) hours of the flight, my low alarm would go off every time I started to feel the homesick feelings creeping back in.

Just when I think I know all symptoms of a low, diabetes tosses a new one at me. How about you? Have you found any new low symptoms recently?

My New Low Glass . . . .

I used to treat low blood sugars with juice all the time.  I bought juice boxes marketed to toddlers because they had just enough carbs and I didn’t have to measure anything out while low.  But then some (probably fake) disgusting“news” item was going around Facebook about juice boxes, and because I’m so easily grossed out I haven’t been able to drink a juice box since.

Pete likes juice so we always have a large bottle in the refrigerator.  But determining how much of it I should drink while low is pretty impossible for me, so I don’t bother with it.  Until now!!  Because National Etchings sent me their measuring glass to try out.  I.  Am.  In.  Love.



Seriously, this is a beautiful glass all on it’s own.  It’s shiny and pretty and feels nice and solid in my hand.  The quality is so good that I’d expect it to be priced higher than it is.  But the big draw for me is the measurements etched into the side.  It means I can pour out three ounces of juice to treat, even when a low blood sugar has my brain pretty scrambled.

Want a new low glass for yourself?  Well, you are in luck, because National Etchings has offered a second glass for me to raffle off!  To enter, simply use the widget below to “Like” the  National Etching Facebook page.  The contest will close on Friday, October 31st.  Good luck!! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

My Worst 5K . . . .

Sunday I ran my absolute worst 5K ever.  And diabetes was (mostly) to blame.



I will admit that we’d slacked a bit on training over the past few weeks.  We tried to train on our cruise, but it just didn’t work.  And then I got sick when we got back, and then life got busy.  It sounds like a pile of excuses, and maybe it is.  But the bottom line is that we knew we wouldn’t set any PRs during this race and we were okay with that - we just planned to go and have fun.  Unfortunately, I really didn’t have any fun at all.

I think the problem all started the day before.  We spent most of Saturday redecorating the living room.  We hauled away our old couch (in pieces, because otherwise it wasn’t going anywhere) and carted off other old furniture and carried in new furniture and rearranged and reconfigured and basically were busy all day.  I found myself fighting low after low after low, and it was no surprise when I woke up Sunday morning to a lower blood sugar than I liked.  I drank my coffee but skipped my coffee bolus, made sure I had plenty of gels in my running pack, and grabbed an apple sauce to eat before the race.

Once we got to the race site I ate the apple sauce, still with no bolus.  Ten minutes before the race I checked my sugar again, and I was still lower than I liked.  Figuring out what to eat was a little tricky though.  I’m used to running with a bit of insulin on board from breakfast, but Sunday I hadn’t bolused a thing.  So I wasn’t quite sure how much to eat to hit that fine line between being high enough to run without crashing, but not so high as to feel a sluggish, syrup-in-my-veins crud.  I decided a Clif Blok should do the trick.

Things started out fine.  At about a mile in my CGM hit my high threshold (set at 165) and showed two arrows up.  Usually that’s pretty perfect, because it’s about the time the exercise is starting to kick in and level the spike out.  Usually, but not on Sunday.  We hadn’t even gone another half mile before I started getting that fuzzy feeling.  I slowed to a walk and tested and was only at 90.  So I ate a couple more Clif Bloks.  At the two mile mark I wasn’t feeling any better, so when we spotted a little fence I could lean on and test again, we stopped.  I was even lower.  Pete handed me a gel and as I sucked it down we noticed the safety van that follows the runners.  It pulled up behind us to collect the cones marking the run route. 

“Are we the very last runners?”, I asked Pete. 
“Yes.”
“Wait, there’s nobody behind us?’
“No.  Don’t worry about it, baby.  It doesn’t matter  Take another minute to rest.”

But to me, it sure did matter.  We were going to come in dead last and I still felt low and I was really frustrated that diabetes was making me a loser.  And that is precisely when the tears started.  I began walking that last mile and I cried.  Sprinkled along the route were people cheering us on - telling us we were doing a great job and that we were almost done.  The more they cheered, the harder I cried.  The harder I cried, the more embarrassed I felt.  Which in turn make me cry even more, which then made me absolutely humiliated.  I knew it was the low making me overly emotional but there was nothing I could do to stop it.  I was mortified and I wished more than anything that I was back home.

We were almost to the three mile mark when I started to get angry at diabetes.  I wiped away my tears and ran the last few tenths of a mile.  I gave a half-hearted smile to those who cheered as we crossed the finish line, and then I asked Pete to take us home.  Our official race time was our slowest 5K ever, and a full 5 1/2 minutes slower than the one we ran in September.  As it turned out, one person finished after us, about 7 minutes later, but that didn’t really matter to me.  And I can’t help but wonder what his story was.  Did he have an injury?  Was he sick?  Did a chronic condition mess with him?  And did he feel completely discouraged and frustrated too?

Notes to Self . . . .

Note to Self:  Taking a few days off from a CGM sensor in order to insert a fresh one right before a trip is fine.

Note to Self:  On occasion, if blood sugars are in the “pre-run happy place”, it’s okay to leave the meter at home for a quick mile or two.

Note to Self:  A snack before a run is a good thing.

Note to Self:  Running with no meter and no sensor is NOT OKAY.  Even if it’s just 2.25 miles, and you had a snack because your pre-run blood sugar was only 86.  Do you hear me?  NOT OKAY.

Note to Self:  When running without a meter or CGM (but don’t ever do that!!) AND feeling low, for goodness sake, LISTEN TO YOUR HUSBAND!  Stop and eat the Level Life Gel he’s trying to give you.  Insisting you will be fine for the last 15 minutes of the run even though you feel like you’re made of Jell-o is NOT OKAY.

Note to Self:  Yes, you finished your run and it all worked out okay, but come on.  You know better.  Stop being so stubborn!  (Although I did agree to eat the gel before finishing the run.  Point in my favor??)

Do you ever make “Notes to Self”?  And do you actually listen??

Exhausted . . . . .

I feel very lucky that the people in my life do their best to understand how tough diabetes can be sometimes and to support me when I need it.  But no matter how hard they try, I feel like they won’t ever really understand how exhausting diabetes can be - both physically and mentally.



Lately it’s been the physical exhaustion that has been hitting hard.  I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older or what, but lows seem to sap my energy more than ever these days.  Especially those sticky lows that hang on even after being treated, and those very low lows that come in an aggressive whirlwind.  It gets harder and harder to shake them off and continue with my day, when all I want to do is curl up and nap.

Last night brought my exhaustion to a whole new level.  My low alarm woke me in the middle of the night and a finger stick confirmed its claim.  So I treated the low and settled in to go back to sleep . . . . but that was not happening.  My mind raced.  I was tired but just couldn’t fall asleep.  I went downstairs to find K.C. but she was too busy with whatever kittens do in the middle of the night to come cuddle with me.  I got my phone and read my entire Facebook feed, then tried to go back to sleep again but it still wasn’t happening.  I played stupid games on my phone.  I stared at the ceiling and listened to the air conditioner cycle on and off.  I listened to Pete snore.  It took several long  hours before I finally managed to fall back to sleep.  And this morning?  There is just not enough coffee in the world.

Sometimes I wish people on the outside understood just how physically exhausting diabetes can be.   And that my endo could write a prescription for naps!!

What’s That Wednesday - Solution or Problem

So I’ve given up calling posts “Wordless Wednesday” because I’m pretty sure I am never, ever Wordless.  Instead I’ve come up with “What’s That Wednesday” since I always show you a picture and then proceed to explain it.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I use to treat my lows.  I’ve gotten pretty sick of juice over the years.  I’ve also gotten tired of glucose tablets, even delicious ones like GlucoLift, so I reserve them for when I’m out and about.  (They’re portable and durable!!)  I’m also trying to break my Pavlovian habit of treating lows with candy, so instead I’m relying on small packets of organic fruit snacks and apple sauce.  But still, sometimes I can’t help but want to treat with candy.  Enter these:



These are Watermelon Rings I found at Whole Foods.  I’m hoping I’m not misguided in believing they don’t have as much bad stuff in them as regular gummies.  Even so, there is still a big problem with these.  THEY TASTE WAY TOO GOOD.  I know I only need one of these to bring up a low.  And it is nearly impossible for me to eat just one of these.  (By the way, I’m not low now but I may have just bolused for and ate one ring while taking this picture.)

And so, my low solution has become my low problem.  Okay, diabetes, you win this time . . . .

****  Update: After doing  more research, I have determined these are Surf Sweets Watermelon Rings.   They are vegan, organic and free of gluten, dairy and soy.  Some Target stores are test marketing them, so I'm on the lookout!!

Intuition . . . .

I believe that sometimes, as people with diabetes, we just know.  Intuition screams at us.  Unfortunately, sometimes I don’t listen.  That’s exactly what happened yesterday.

Somewhere around the middle of the day, my blood sugars got stuck.  They weren’t high high, but they were higher than normal.  They hovered in the 170s, even after the treadmill and dusting and vacuuming the whole house and cleaning the bathroom.  Corrections did nothing to budge the number.



Here’s the thing.  170 isn’t a terrible number for me.  I had under-bolused a snack before the treadmill so I wouldn’t go low.  I had eaten dinner.  I had a bit of dessert.  All justifications for that stuck blood sugar, but my intuition was saying otherwise.  My intuition said my site had crapped out early.  It was scheduled to be changed this morning.  But it was in my abdomen, and in the past my ab sites haven’t lasted the full three days.  However, I didn’t listen to that intuition and instead I went to bed.

About a half hour later, my Rise Rate alarm rang.  And my blood sugar hit the 200s.  And I knew it was time to listen to my intuition and change out my site.  I dragged myself out of bed, turned on the light (much to the dismay of my sleeping husband) and did what I should have done a few hours ago.  One new site and one correction bolus later this happened.



Not only did I come down from the 200s, but I came all the way down to a gross low and a 2 a.m. juice box.

I’d love to say I learned my lesson.  I wish I could swear that next time I’ll listen to my intuition and get that site issue taken care of right away instead of going to bed hoping things will work themselves out.  But right now, my intuition is saying that next time I’ll probably make the same mistakes again.  I guess I just get so stubborn about pulling a site early, and I guess I just haven’t quite learned yet.
 
Am I the only one, or does your stubborn streak drown out your intuitions too?

Two Diabetics, a Low and a Pizza Place . . .

Imagine you head out for pizza with the love of your life, and every few minutes you hear your pump’s low alarm.  But when you check your pump, it wasn’t alarming.  That’s exactly what happened to me and it was weird!!



Pete and I had just finished packing for a long weekend in Florida with his family so I checked my purse, thinking that perhaps I had stashed my old, spare, backup pump in there while packing.  But no, the backup pump was safely at home in my carry-on.  The beeping happened again when our waiter came to take our order.  I asked him if he heard it too, just to be sure I wasn’t completely losing my mind.  He did hear it, and judging from the reactions of those at the tables around me, they could hear it too.  I explained what the alarm was to my waiter, showing him my pump as if to prove I knew what I was talking about.  “Somebody is low and needs a glass of juice.”, I told him.  He just smiled and went to deliver our order to the kitchen.

A few minutes later the low alarm sounded again.  Each time I instinctively grabbed my pump even though I knew it wasn’t me beeping.  Except this time, it was!  Talk about REALLY freaking a PWD out - a dozen low alarms that weren’t mine followed by one that actually was.  It felt like someone was trying to gaslight me.  A sip of Pete’s soda quieted my alarm, but soon I could hear the telltale siren of either a 530G with Enlite suspending, or an older Medtronic pump whose low alarm has been ignored way too long.  “Someone is going to pass out”, I told Pete, but we still couldn’t figure out where the alarm was coming from.  I was becoming a bit obsessed with the whole situation, but Pete convinced me to concentrate on eating my own pizza before I too went low again.  As I ate I made up a elaborate story that the pump alarm was coming from someone in the band that was performing in the bar area.  I decided the person couldn’t hear his alarm over the sound of his music, but we could hear it over the restaurant’s sound system.

As our waiter came to check on us, the siren alarm sounded again.  The waiter took one look at me and said “I know.  I hear it.  It’s coming from that table in the corner.”.


Ah ha!!!  I wasn’t any more crazy than usual!!!  I looked across the room and saw the tiniest, oldest couple sitting in a booth next to their walkers - and I didn’t know what to do.  Maybe their hearing wasn’t what it used to be and they just couldn’t hear the alarm.  But maybe they would be embarrassed by a stranger coming up to talk about diabetes with them.  Maybe my fellow pumper was diagnosed at a time when PWDs were taught diabetes is something to hide and to be ashamed of.  I didn’t want to make this person feel uncomfortable, and they were both eating, so I decided to stay at my own table and leave well enough alone.

There is a part of me that is still kicking myself for not going over to the couple, just to ask if they needed some help.  (What would you have done?)  And there is another big part of me that can’t believe two diabetic were out at an Italian restaurant and we both had low alarms!  What are the chances of that?  #freaky