Guest Post: Candy to You

Today's post is from my cousin Kate.  Cousin isn't the right term either, and neither is our technical relation: second cousins.  Being an only child, Kate (and her sister Karolyn) are the closest people I have to sisters.  We spent summers together at their pool and winters together on the mountain.  We both started skiing at three years old, but we couldn't be more different.  She loved horses and was scared of dogs.  I love dogs and was scared of horses.  I went to school for Early Childhood Education and she's going to school for Business, but that's probably why our mother's wish that a little of us would rub off on each other. 

I was shopping at Wal-Mart the other day and wandered into the pharmacy area.  I looked over and saw Glucose Tabs.  Oh, the memories.  Growing up, I guess I never realized that someone with diabetes was sick.  No one in our family ever made it seem that way.  Most of my experience with having a family member with diabetes (my awesome big cousin) was during ski season.  Since Briley had to test, we would stop for one morning break, a lunch, and an afternoon break throughout the day.  Since we had been skiing since we were about 3 years old, it became a routine.  It was never a break for Briley, it was just what we did (and most of the time I think it became more of a break for me and my clam chowder with no clams).  I don't think I ever remember looking at her any different than anyone in the family, which brings me back to Glucose Tabs.  Now that I am older, I know that they are used in the event that a diabetic's sugar is low (under 100 somewhere).  Back then, it was Briley getting candy.  I knew that it was because she needed it, but from time to time she would sneak me one  so that I didn't feel left out.  Oh yes, that was us being rebellious ten & twelve year olds.  I guess my point is that everything became sort of normal.  I used to help her get all of her supplies out when she was ready to test.  We would hope that it would be around 100 and even take guesses to see who could get closest.  When it was time for her insulin, I would watch patiently so that we could go on our merry way and find something fun to do. As I got older, I even asked questions about how much she needed and why.  It was never something that bothered me though.  She was always just my big cousin.  I know that to Briley, it is obviously a large part of her life, but I think that our family made it as normal as we could, or at least we tried.  Now Briley has a pump, but there are still morning breaks, lunches, and afternoon breaks even though they are  no longer necessary.  When I see Glucose Tabs in Wal-Mart, I do not think of my sick older cousin, but instead the sweet taste that I got as a treat when our parents weren't looking.  When Briley asked me to write something for her blog, I think I had so much trouble coming up with something because it was never something that interfered with our relationship or the time we spent together.  She is not my older cousin with diabetes, and I rarely would ever describe her as such.  She is just my cousin, and I love her, diabetes or not.

Did I mention I started crying when I read this?

Hope

I've been going through strips like a crazy person lately, and I went to re-stock.  I also needed to re-stock on tabs and I decided to get some of the little drinky-glucose things too.  Then I wait to talk to the pharmacist to get my test strips.

"One Touch Ultra please"
"All we have is 100"
"Okay"
"Don't you have insurance?"
"Yea, but it only covers strips for a meter that's much less accurate, and I've been having trouble lately, so I'm not going to risk anything"
"Wow, I'm sorry"

It doesn't make it any easier.  It doesn't make it any better.  Shelling out $140 for strips & tabs is never going to be "easy."  But having someone behind the counter say I'm sorry, well, it gives me hope.  Hope that there are enough people out there hearing it that it could change.  With enough sincerity, the world can be better.

Missing Juice

In the process of getting ready to go skiing on Sunday, we also needed to change hotel rooms.  So first I got everything together that I needed for skiing.  This included a tube of tabs and juice box.  My father was up at the crack of dawn packing his things, so he was the one who was ready to move them all too.  Along with the first trip, went the juice boxes.  I woke up in the 200s, so I wasn't worried about being low, but my low treatment also isn't something I would've sent first.  Guess what, I'm low.  (70 mg/dL: so not too low, but I need a treatment before we go skiing, and I've just dropped a significant amount in a short time, and I'm feeling low)

"Mom, Can you please go get the juice boxes?"

"You don't have any?"

"I do, but they're for skiing"

Well, we can't find them.  So I cut into my ski supply.  After I'm feeling better, we find the rest of the supply.  And then I re-fill for the ski day.  Nothing happened.  It all worked out.  But during the in between time I was angry.  It wasn't anyone's fault.  But it sucked.  I wanted to be angry at someone, but I knew that I couldn't be.  So I stewed by myself.  And I wasn't low enough that the blame came to the surface.  

Low BG + No Parking Spots

Lately I've been going home, or somewhere else kinda far away every weekend.  Not that this is bad, it just means that I end up driving back late on Sunday.  I test before I drive, but BGs can change quite a bit in an hour.  There have been a few times lately where I start to feel low as I'm getting off the highway.  Luckily, I live within a mile of the exit.  Not luckily, I have to park on the street.  In the most perfect of conditions, I am not a good parallel parker. When I am feeling low, and I need to figure out whether my car will fit in certain spots or if there are spots at all, it is not good.  A few weeks ago, I had to go wait in the classy joint across the street because there were no spots.  I keep my tabs in the handy cup holder on my door, but the heat and weakness overwhelmed me.  I am literally two buildings and a street away from my apartment, and I can't go there!  When all I want is to be  in my cozy apartment, I'm stuck in my car.  Watching people go in and out, and generally on the phone.  But sometimes no one answers, and then I'm even more nervous.
Tonight I have synchronized swimming, so I'm hoping that my BGs and my neighborhood allow me to get off the highway, park my car and collapse in my apartment, rather than waiting in the parking lot.

December 15: Home for the Holidays

Middle of the Night Low

For all of you out there with CGM's, I  hate you on the mornings after this.  Just, fyi.  


I haven't been sleeping well lately, but I have no idea why.  (Probably because the other side of my bed is currently a storage area for my clothes) but I'm trying everything, except putting my phone away for an hour before I go to sleep.  Most of my friends don't live in the city; they've been around for forever and I have a hard time meeting new people so my phone is my lifeline and every time I hear a little "ding-a-ling" with that small green light, I get freaken excited.  So turning the phone off isn't an option for me.  Last Thursday I was actually tired.  I started to get goofy, I think I actually molded to my bed and it's quite possible I fell asleep while trying to send a text.  


I know that Friday I don't have to go into work in the morning, so when I wake up and my room is pitch black, but I feel like I've slept forever and I have trouble rolling over, I know that something is wrong.  I grab my meter, but end up with a book (literally).  So I turn on my light and test and at 2:56 in the morning I see a glorious 54 staring me back in the face.  So I roll back over.  And then I realize the light is on, and then I remember I'm low.  So I grab my bottle of tabs.  And there are two in there.  *%#@! So I grab a cup from a low previous in the week and I fumble to the kitchen, turning on the light and getting my juice.  Either my roommate and her boyfriend ate whatever was taking up all the room in the bottom of the fridge, or she cleaned it, making my job trying to get juice while I'm low much easier.  So I pour a full cup and I take six gulps.  Because as I'm taking the first sip, I remember reading that Kerri measures her juice in sips.  And I remember that the diabetes educator told me on Wednesday that under 50 basically you need 30g of sugar rather than 15g.  I feel like I'm in the 30s, so I take 6 sips and then I refill my cup.  This is a little cup, so put my juice away and head back to my room.  I stop every so often to take more sips.  I finish my juice and I start texting Rebel.  Sometimes those 3,000 miles and 3 hour time difference come in handy.  In the course of 4 texts, we manage to talk about lows, work, camp and boys.  Yea, it's 3AM, what do you expect?  She asked me a few other questions, but by that time, I was back asleep.  All in all, I was awake for 20 minutes, but I didn't retest.  All you good diabetics out there, I know this is wrong, but I don't ever fall asleep when I'm low, so the fact that I was able to fall back asleep was a good sign.  


When the rooster on my phone started yelling at me at 7:30 Friday morning, I wanted to rip my ears out. It felt like 5 minutes ago I had been curled up trying to fall back asleep.  And I had been ambitious for Friday morning, hahahahahahaha nothing happened.  I sat in my room, wrapped up in comfortable sweatshirt, fleece blankets and TV reruns.  Until it was time for a shower, and then music helped me.  Of course, Friday morning, my BGs were great. Friday afternoon, not so much.  

Morning Gym Routine

A gym routine shouldn't include this much:

• At 8:30 AM, test BG before driving Girl Genius to school
• After dropping Girl Genius off at school (9:00 AM) test again and set temporary basal for 1 hour, 30 minutes
• Test when I get to the gym
• Change & make sure I have water & glucose
• Start cardio workout (usually the elliptical, but if I don't have a post-breakfast high, then I do the bike)
• Usually only make it about 20 minutes before going low
• Take glucose
• Stretch
• Test BG
• Shower
• Test BG
• Go Home/back to work

Shitfaced Low

From September 23, 2010


I am a synchronized swimmer.  I realize that it might not be the most common or popular sport, but it’s something that I love.  Unfortunately it doesn’t fit my schedule in Boston, so I travel to NH every other week for it.  The commute is just something that I can’t really do every week.  I was really excited for our first masters class last night.  As I’m getting off the highway, I start to feel low.  This wasn’t just any low. This was what I like to call shifaced low.  A low where you may not actually be really low, (I was 65) but a low that still packs a punch and knocks you to the ground.  It also takes longer to recover from.  I sat there on the side of the pool sucking down jucie boxes, tabs, granola bars, enough so that by the time the hour long class was over, I was finally not low.  I go into the locker room to change out of my bathing suit, pissed off.  I’m fumbling with my things so that I can be comfortable on the drive back to Boston, and I hear that familiar “beep beep beep” that comes with a suspended pump.  I am a forgetful diabetic, so I don’t suspend my pump because then I forget to unsuspend it.  I realize that there is a woman in the changing room and she must have a pump too.  My pissed-off-ness makes me want to yell “It’s not fair” but the new improved diabetic in me makes me want to ask all sorts of questions such as “Has this ever happened to you?”  ”Do you ever get shitfaced low?”  ”How come when my A1C is better, low blood sugars can interfere more?” but mostly “Can I please have a hug?”