without going into it too much I hurt my ankle tubing down a river this weekend… I also smacked my chest and almost ripped off my dexcom sensor/transmitter… yup the same one that I just had replaced. So I took off the sensor yesterday and I just haven’t put it back on yet… I know that I need to, but I just don’t feel like it. I don’t even care what my numbers are right now. I just don’t care. I’m so over everything. I should be tweaking my (diabetes related) capstone project, or working on my Open APS, or writing my… so many things… so I took a break from writing this and did some things… then I sort of felt like I was shaking, but I’m not wearing a sensor so who the fuck knows… just tested… 57… fuck me. so the “do I really need the dexcom?” test has been proven again, again, again… not that I really needed to prove it again, to anyone except for maybe myself…. and yet I still sit here typing, not having eaten anything, not even checked my bag for anything, in fact I’m only 50% sure I even have any sugar with me right now. I’m going to end up in trouble… this is really no bueno… I tell myself still sitting here, still doing nothing. I guess I kind of feel like a dexcom is something for little kids, something I should have grown out of needing already, the training wheels still hanging on that I “should have” shed already — these assumptions make no sense, diabetes doesn’t acknowledge age or supposed maturity, there isn’t a way to “test out of” this phase of diabetes. Ignoring this isn’t going to make it go away, but I guess I’m going to try anyway. This doesn’t feel like an active decision, it just feels like not having the effort to do something else on top of everything else. I just don’t want to, it feels like I can’t. I can feel my balance starting to go off, even just sitting still in this chair, so I should probably really take care of this. I know all of the bad things that come along with this… one of these days I’m actually going to end up in the hospital, not today I don’t think, we’ll see I guess. I feel like I already know the outcome… another rebound high sitting in my apt, not being functional enough to get anything done, not peaceful enough to get to sleep. Another night of interrupted sleep, waking up tomorrow with a list of things I didn’t get done tonight because diabetes killed another night/day/time of being able to be productive. Really it’s a miracle I’m able to even write at this point… I wonder if this will make any sense if I read it later… whatever. fuck everything.