Juice

Last Wednesday, I drove up for synchronized swimming like so many other weeks.  But this week it was different.  This is the last time that I get to swim with my friend.  It was another show, this time at the YMCA we called home last year (they missed us).  That means that I'm not swimming for the normal hour, but only about 5 minutes.  I didn't bother putting on a temp basal, especially since I was in the high 100s before getting there.  Well that was my mistake.  First of all before I got there, I was around 150.  (I got there late) When the show was over 45 minutes later, I was hovering at 80.  By the time I got out to my car, I was low.  I had my handy liquid glucose which I took out and chugged.  And then I went and hung out with my mom in her car.  Between 10-15 minutes later, I was still low.  And we found a juice box in her car, that I stabbed open with my key.  (We found the straw later)  And as I started to drink it I nearly spit it right back out.  And then I looked at the top of the box and noticed the expiration date.  My mother got her car in 2003, and I'm guessing that this juice box might have been in there since day 1.  It was nasty!  (And this morning I had one that expired in 2008).  Pay attention to those expiration dates, because the juice really does taste gross after the expiration date.  However, as my mother said "it's not like the sugar left."  Which is true, and it did work.  But, blech!

Plummet on the Bike

I went back to the gym last week.  Finally.  And since it's been a while, I decided to ease back into it and use the bike.  I got on a fancy bike with a screen that simulates a road, and it was really cool.  After about 15 minutes, I felt a little weird, but decided to keep going until my loop was done.  After 4 miles, I felt really weird.  And my loop was done, so I cleaned off the machine and went for my meter in the locker room.  That trusty little pink machine blinked a nice bright 34 mg/dL back at me.  I opened my little gluco-shot and poured it down.  It doesn't feel like it works, but I don't know if it does or not.  Since I was 574 before going in, it was all I had with me, and it was my last strip.  I don't like to be in the shower while I'm low, so I got dressed and went out to my car.  I was in the parking garage texting people: I'm in my car stabbing juice boxes with pens and eating Valentines hearts.  The juice box in there didn't have a straw so stabbing it was my only option.  Since I didn't have another test strip, I just kept digging in to my bag of Valentine's hearts.  I didn't feel low at 34, so I was nervous to drive.  I think I ate those hearts for about 20 minutes when I started my car and drove down the road to Target for some juice.  Do you know that at 8PM at night, everyone either wants to be awake forever (caffeine) or they think they're overweight (diet).  All I wanted was a single bottle of juice.  It was not to be found.  Instead I ended up with gummy peaches and gatorade.  Can you guess which I chose to consume  before driving again?  I'll give you a hint: the gatorade is still in my car.  I get back to my apartment (and get a parking space!!), and I get my new bottle of strips and I'm 167.  And all is right with the world...

Or so I thought until I wanted to go to bed and I was over 400.  I stayed up another hour, was back in the 300s, and THEN I went to bed.

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.  

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.  

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?”