[Full Disclosure: I’m currently drinking a juice box… yeah, you do the math]
So, I was just winding down, watching tv, playing a game on my phone, thinking about getting up to brush my teeth, etc… when I realize that Undercover Boss is making me tear up… and I feel a little hot, and light headed… and… oh crap. just as I go to test, my dexcom goes off, it’s okay — I have the alarm set to 75 (so I have time before it’s “really” bad)…. um, yeah… so my meter reads… 63. the worst part about this is that in my head I’m saying “that’s not that low” — well yeah… except I’m already fogging out. and my dog is just laying next to me looking at me like “really mom… again?!” I thought I would finish getting ready for bed before getting some juice… not the best choice, never mind the logic of drinking juice after brushing my teeth… bad taste and bad dental hygiene… it took me probably 15 minutes to brush my teeth, take a pill, and get a juice box out of the fridge… I think I walked in and out of my kitchen at least half a dozen times. I’m done with the juice box now, I also ate some insurance (a granola bar) to get me through the night.
Here’s the worst part… I know exactly why I got here. My eating habits suck. The food I eat may not be that bad, I’m not binging on doughnuts (anymore… or at least not lately), but.. let’s think of a nice way to say this… I am not keeping to a diet that best supports maintaining stable and healthy blood sugar for a diabetic. What do I mean by that artfully crafted statement you may ask… well, let’s start with today. Breakfast was normal — I’ve trained myself into eating breakfast, I hate eating in the morning, but now that it’s routine, I sort of forget that part and just do it. From there it goes down hill, I skipped lunch — I thought I would just have a yogurt at the office, but we were out for whatever reason, so instead of being responsible and going to get something… I just eat whatever I want… in the roughly 9 hours in the office I ate 1/4 bagel (I didn’t eat any more of it because it was stale), two chewy bars, and a bag of pop chips… and gave no insulin for any of it. So then I came home, and as you can probably imagine, I was running a bit high, so I figure out the correction and figure in what I’m about to eat for dinner (rice, black beans, chicken/steak… semi alright dinner), and round down and then give myself insulin… I know the ratios my doctor recommended are too heavy handed, but I don’t trust myself, even though it’s my body. I thought rounding down would do it. Nope. It took a few hours, but here I am, again. And now it’s time to go to bed. What if I go low in the middle of the night? Casey, while she can stare at me with an exasperated look, cannot administer glucagon if I wait to long and do not call for help. As my diabetic friend put it when I was telling her that I had hit 29 and been able to drink juice and been fine… “you didn’t know that the sprite would work fast enough, and if it hadn’t you’d be dead” — talk about a sobering thought (that statement is humorous because both of us are sober).
Well, now all that is left is for me to sign off and go to bed… wish me luck. Until the morning.
Update [Bad Night]:
Last night, in addition to my granola bar “insurance,” I drank another juice box… assuming that 58 carbs would be more than enough to safely carry me through the night. wrong. wrong wrong wrong. Here are some snap shots to help convey the madness.
So… that’s how my night went. basically, just shitty. I’m still weirdly hot. and I still haven’t eaten anything. call it rebellion. against myself. so really I’m just screwing myself and risking a hospital visit. or death. nbd. except actually a big deal. Fuck all of this. I feel like shit.
oh yeah… and I’m starting to regularly “snooze” my dexcom… which is not only unsafe, but also results in being woken up repeatedly, rather than actually getting back to sleep, which then results in me being exhausted and leaves me questioning whether the exhaustion is really exhaustion or just a symptom of the continued low blood sugar. Fuck me. Fuck Diabetes. Fuck Everything.