That moment when you’ve moved the dogs over, slide into bed, propped up on one arm ready to turn out the light and…fuck… My OmniPod is going to expire in the middle of the fucking night…fuuuccccckkkkk out of bed and brain has to engage again… Uuuuggggghhhhhhhhh
so Halloween was good… I was a dinosaur… because I love dinosaurs and also because I happen to own a dinosaur onsie which makes it hands down the easiest, most comfortable halloween costume I could think of… but tonight I’m talking about a different kind of spooky, the kind where your numbers look right, but you know they shouldn’t — that there might be a stacking nightmare looming… should I go to bed and sleep while I can? Or give up now and just watch tv while I wait for the plummet? Or the opposite where I’m stuck high for 10+ days and can’t figure it out… and then when I finally, carefully bring it down with exercise, literally tip toeing around trying not to expend too much energy that I jilt my sugars off one way or the other, trying to avoid the rollercoaster… yes, I know I just came down by 200 and I need to treat before I hit 50, but I only want to treat a little because I don’t want to spike back hard the other direction… but I also don’t want to die… it makes me feel like I’m holding my breath all the time. I know that there is no “good” BG, but really let’s be honest… 90-120 makes me feel like a rockstar, up to 180 is okay, over 200 and beyond is just a gradual increase of how horrible I feel about how terrible I am (at taking care of myself) — that part in parentheses is the important part… or the fact that it is in parentheses is the important part because separating my self worth from my BG numbers is really hard.
today is alright I guess, it’s not good or bad… I went to a meeting this morning, it was good — my numbers are kind of shit, but not any more shit than usual… it’s the everyday sort of okay that I’m fighting not to accept. I don’t want to be okay with this. This is not okay. I want to excel, I want to be active, I don’t want to constantly be planning for the next doctor’s appointment, noting down symptoms and changes, counting days on a calendar in between marked events, calculating insulin ratios, calling insurance companies, doing coverage math in my head, trying to figure out how in the hell I’m going to affording living with diabetes in the long term, what this means for me personally, socially, professionally… and then I remember that today is just today, and I can’t do anything about anything else than right now… that lasts maybe five seconds and then I start worrying again, maybe it’s like learning to pause before reacting when I first got sober… extending the time one second at a time… breathing, remembering I’m not in control… 1-2-3… fuck it… breathe… 1-2…. this is going to be fucking process… what else is new. Out.