Repercussions

Remember that scary low I told you about?

Well, it's still messing with my head.  I go through my days fearing numbers which are admittedly perfect (between 100-110).  Because lower than that, and I'm in double digits.  90s.  Scary.  80s.  Even Scarier.  70s.  Give me that juice!  60s.  Give me juice, get me a chair and don't talk to me!  I don't think I've been lower than that, and that's good because where else can I go from there.  So I admittedly have been running a little high this week, but mostly in the 140s range, which is not horrible.  Over-treating lows?  Absolutely.   And that's just during the day.  When I get home at night, I make dinner and eat dinner and I hang out, whether talking to friends or not, and trying to get up the courage to record my You Can Do This video.  Instead I watch others, (and this one over and over) and try to ignore the head games that diabetes is playing with me.  And then I try to go to bed.  And I sit on my couch scared to walk into my bedroom.  My bedroom is cozy, cool and comforting and diabetes has made it scary.  I don't want to go to sleep at night.  I read and play Angry Birds so that I literally can't keep my eyes open anymore.  Only then am I able to go to sleep.  Living alone and being alone?  It's scary right now.  That's what 23 does to a person!  

I want diabetes to leave me alone.  I know that in time I will be comfortable again, and I'll go to sleep at decent times and I won't lack patience anymore, and I won't need to survive on a caffeine drip because of the lack of sleep because of the fear.  I know that day will come.  But here, this week?  Not a chance.

A Low lower than my Age

I had a post planned for today, until I woke up at 1AM, tested my blood sugar and it was 23 mg/dL.  I believe that this is officially my lowest BG.  I was laying there in my bed feeling as though I hadn't fallen asleep yet.  If I'm really tired and still can't fall asleep, it tends to be because my blood sugar is low.  So I rolled over and tested.  And I saw 23.  I didn't know how I had dropped from 218 in such a short time (I didn't look at the clock before I tested), but my thought process was "okay, grab a juice box."  So I did.  I grabbed one juice box, gulped that, tried to play basketball with the box and my trash can, then laid back down.  I left the light on so that I would know I needed to test again.  I never fell back asleep, but I kind of re-awoke realizing I was way too hot and sweaty for the temperature it was supposed to be outside.  I rolled over again and then I was 34 mg/dL at 1:15.  That is when I went into panic mode.  I grabbed a juice box, then 4 glucose tabs, then justifying that I needed two more.  I didn't want another juice box, but I also didn't want the chalky taste in my mouth anymore.  I walked into the kitchen and grabbed my dried strawberries.  And I chomped on those until they were almost all gone and I thought I would be too high if I finished the whole container (I think there might be 5 left in there).  I laid back down and thought of everything bad that could possibly happen.  I thought of calling my parents to tell them that I was okay, and then realized that would just send them into even more of a panic getting that call at 1AM.  I left the light on again because I needed to test.  I think I grabbed my nook and played Angry Birds.  Then a half hour later tested and I was 132.  But I was so damn scared that I kept waking up every few hours.  And this is the day I got to go into work a little later and therefore grab a little extra sleep.  I was 196 this morning, so I should've been capable of functioning, but I wasn't.  I sat in my bed for quite a while, and then with 15 minutes left before I needed to leave, realized I should get dressed.

A Letter to the People on the Sidewalk

No, I'm not pointing at my cleavage

Last night after work I headed out for a run.  When it comes to diabetes and running, I'm a minimalist.  I bring glucose and that's it.  Those arrows in the picture, that is my glucose.  (And that is me immediately post run.)  And here is my letter to the people I saw out there last night. 

Hello other runners, walkers, cyclists and citizens, 

   First of all, take the time to look up from your cell phone when the sidewalk is narrow.  I'd hate to swat that out of your hand by accident.  Secondly, I realize that my shirt is probably riding up and you can see my belly and no, I'm not doing this on purpose, but it's flipping hot outside so I'm not wearing sleeves.  Also, I don't look like the other runners out here, but I'm out here, so give me a break.  Most importantly.  STOP STARING AT MY BOOBS!  They look teeny in a sports bra, so I know you're not actually staring at them.  You're staring at the white thing bouncing up and down in there.  Guess what!  It goes with the pink thing bouncing up and down on my hip.  And yes, it's making that skin even more red because I had to open it beforehand so the wrapper is jagged and irritating.  But it's better than getting stuck out there low.  What's low you ask?  Low is when I exercise and my blood sugar goes low and I could pass out.  So yea, the irritating wrapper, I'll deal with that.  But keep your eyes to yourself (except for you, toddler, you were adorable, and you were just being held at that height, it's not your fault)!  I would like to not take it with me, but that would be foolish and irresponsible.  I went through those days and I'm not going back.  I don't stare at your arms where your ipod is, or your head where your helmet is, so leave my freaking boobs alone!

Thanks, 

Your T1 Neighborhood Runner

More Low

Like I mentioned the other day, I've been going low, a lot.  My basals are down.  My ISF has changed from 1:35 to 1:40.  And my correction factors have changed.  And I'm still going low.  And I'm scared to bolus.  Yesterday afternoon I forgot to bolus for my snack.  You know how high I ended up? 217.  I should've been in the 300s.  I've been so focused on not going low, that my functionality as a blogger is severely lacking.  So excuse the brief post, but hopefully this low-ness will be fixed soon.

"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it."  Margaret Thatcher

Irrationally Rational

I went home for Memorial Day weekend.  It's just so much easier to deal with the heat in lots of space (and at the neighbor's pool.)  My original plan was to have an early dinner with my parents and then head back to my apartment right after.  Those plans changed when I went to a baseball game and cookout with my friend (which was awesome!)  I drove back to my parents about an hour after I wanted to leave to go back to Boston.  Before the cookout, I was 302 mg/dL.  So when I got all my stuff together to leave, I wasn't thinking that my BG would affect me.  But there it was, a 55 mg/dL staring at me.  And then 20 minutes later, 50 mg/dL.  I suspended my pump, and then 56 mg/dL and then when I was 59 mg/dL, my temper flared.  My father told me I didn't need to get upset about it (but I clearly was).  And this is where I became irrationally rational.  I yelled back "Well I should!  Because if I get mad I'll get stressed out and stress raises your blood sugar and nothing else is working!"And twenty minutes later, I was 81 mg/dL.

Low, Low and More Low

The weather here has gone from raw, rainy and cold to summer.  And with this, my BGs have gone from roller coaster, to low.
 

Found 

Yesterday at Girl Genius's gymnastics, I felt a little low, and there was a 45 mg/dL  staring me back in the face.  Two days ago, I was about to complain that Trader Joe's didn't have 4 oz juice boxes until the 6 oz didn't raise me.
And two days ago I was low so frequently that I couldn't run or go to the gym, but I did do an at home workout, which kicked my a$$.
Yesterday after gymnastics, when I stopped to buy test strips, I got a frappucino too.  I bolused for half of it.  And then forgot to bolus for my yogurt.  And the highest I went? 204 mg/dL.

This is the thing though.  I know that I need to lower my basals.  But it's hard to do a basal test when you're eating all the time.  And I've been eating fruit and fruit and, ... more fruit.  Also, the times that I've been going low from day to day are not consistent!  Makes it a lot harder to even figure out where to start.  I'll get there.  Until then, I'll keep my juice boxes and my tabs and my liquid glucose a lot closer.

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!

Mistaken Number

I went home this weekend for my cousin's nurse pinning from St. Anselm's college.  In a pew meant for seven, maybe eight people, we had ten.  Although my uncle will tell you we had 9.5 people on that bench. In my teensy tiny purse, I debated on just stuffing some tabs in there, but managed to get my meter in there too.  And whether it was being hungry, or stuffy in there, I started to feel low.  I got out all my stuff as un-noticeable as possible.  I was sitting between my mother and my aunt and as my meter was counting down from 5, I heard a gasp.  "I thought it said you were 2." I looked at my mother and we both imitated what me passing out would've looked like.  And my aunt said, "even I knew it was counting down."  And then I said, "well, at least there are lots of people here who could help me."

cousins: Megan, me, Michael & Kate

Coffee Stop

new re-usable cup holder with a handle!

I went home this weekend for Easter, and as I was driving up in the rain (and snow!) on Saturday, I started to feel low.  I got off the highway and was trying to test.  And of course, I dropped the bottle of strips.  It was still closed, so I didn't lose any, but I actually needed to park my car in order to test.  So I parked my car and I was 70 mg/dL.  So out came the juicebox and into the mall went I to find Starbucks.  I walked in where I thought the food court was, and it wasn't.  So I had arrow vision for the little map to get to Starbucks.  All I needed to do was turn my head 90 degrees to the right though.  So in I walked, and when it was my turn to order the woman had a "you look completely out of it" face on and it took everything I had just to order my coffee and not confirm her suspicions.  In a few minutes, all was well and I was back on my way.

It Works, Just Not the Way It's Advertised

This is my low treatment of choice when at the gym.  While it may take 4 or 5 gulps of a juice box, this thing is like a shot.  However, can we please look at the seal?  "Instant Energy Drink"  Um, what?  Maybe if you don't have diabetes, but I have quite never felt instant energy from a low treatment, unless psychologically.  By no means will I stop using this, especially after reading this, but the seal cracks me up.  You are wrong Dex4, so wrong.  Yet, it does work.  

Perspective

This past weekend I went skiing again, and not only is it April, but there was powder, sunshine, friends, family and no grass.  When my friends and I showed up last year, this is what the mountain looked like:

And when we showed up this year, this is what the mountain looked like:

Needless to say we skied really hard every morning.  At one point, Meghan said, "We need to wait for my legs to catch up."  And that's pretty much how it went.  The powder was awesome, and the diabetes feelings, well, they were a little off.  I was starting to feel low, so when we got to the top of the chair I tested.  And a stupid 33 mg/dL was staring me back.  My mom & Meghan helped me with the juice boxes. But I didn't FEEL that low.  So when I was done Mom asked how I was doing and I said, let's go!  Don't worry, I went slow and we were making our way over to my favorite lodge for snack.  And Meghan said, "My mom would be sitting on the ground crying."  Meghan has had diabetes since she was 5.  Her brother 6 months later.  And her uncles have T1 as well.  And in September her mother was diagnosed.  This is a woman who knows diabetes, but not the way we do.  She knows how to be a sister and mother of PWD, but is struggling with being a PWD.  She has a fabulous support system, but comments like those put diabetes in perspective for me.  Learning how to be a PWD happened while learning how to grow up, not while being comfortable with my life.

It Started as Just a Cute Story

Yesterday was a crazy day.  

After dropping Girl Genius off at school, I was over 370.  An hour later after finishing #sweatbetes at the gym, I was 70.  Then 50s.  Then 30s.  Then 50s.  Then 80s.  Then 200s.

This is Coffee

I wasn't a happy camper.  Except that I was because it was sunny and warm and I get to go skiing at my favorite of all weekends up at Sunday River this weekend.  I would try to talk with Girl Genius and the words coming out of my mouth made no sense whatsoever.  We needed to go to the dry cleaners, and Starbucks is right across the street.  I wanted something, but I'm limiting myself to one cup of coffee per day during Lent, and I knew what I was going to order walking in.  And what did I order?  My usual coffee.  And as we're driving back, Girl Genius is talking about how Coffee makes his own coffee if we're not at the house.  When we're at the dry cleaners, or school, or the grocery store, or this, or that, I just zoned.  It can be mentally challenging to follow the logic of a really smart 4 year old!  And then I hear 

"juice. Because he has diabetes too.  And sometimes he goes low.  And he wears an insulin pump like you.  But when he doesn't have his insulin pump on, he takes shots until we can get to the store to get him another one."

Seriously child?!  I mean, you know I take juice if I'm low.  And you know that when we eat snack or lunch I push buttons on the pump.  But you put all that together for the dog?!  And I know that imaginative play is a way for children to help themselves understand something really complicated.  So not only is she asking questions, noticing my diabetes, paying attention when I talk to her, but she is actively trying to understand it.  

And then I'm thinking about it.  And I relate diabetes to a foreign language.  I took Spanish & French in junior high, German in high school and American Sign Language in college.  And I know very little of any of these.  Why?  Because I don't use them on a regular basis.  Diabetes for nonPWDs must be the same thing.  You hear us get angry, frustrated, and flabbergasted trying to explain diabetes.  But I don't remember or understand things I don't use a lot.  So why would people who don't experience it a lot understand it?  When it comes to explaining diabetes, I am really patient with Girl Genius, because, ya know, she's four.  But maybe that's just how it needs to be done.  Answer people's questions as they have them, not when we want them to know.  Let's all find a new friend who doesn't know much about diabetes and through the course of getting to know them better, they'll know diabetes better, and they'll be able to correct that third person, and so on.  Baby steps.  I'm taking baby steps.  Who's with me?

Deliciousness

When I woke up Saturday morning, I had no idea what to anticipate my BG as.  I've actually been waking up quite well lately, (and I'm sure that will change now) but the "oh no what will it be" is apparently automatic right now.  I was 152 mg/dL, which is darn near perfect for a day of skiing.  When you stick 11 people in a hotel "room," breakfast is a little chaotic.  But I grab a bagel and I'm totally all set and diabetes is great.  Our goal was first chair, and we were almost successful.  We got second.  And at the end of that run, I felt low.  So I took out my pump, pushed the basal down to 70% and went on my way.  And after the second run, I still felt low.  Grab the meter and I'm in the 60s.  Scoff down some tabs (of which I didn't bring enough, but wasn't about to admit that then and there), and take out the pump again and push the basal down to 50%.  And I was on my way.  No more feeling low for this girl! And we skied about half the mountain.

As a ski family, we've always taken snack breaks.  A few people have even mentioned that.  So when a few of us were in need of warming up and energizing, we stopped in at the lodge.  Now I still remember the days when the food was homemade, and the eternal optimist in me still believes that I might walk in one day and it will be there again.  But on this day, it was nearly true.  I grabbed a hot chocolate, and my cousin even showed me the container of marshmallows.  And then I turned around and saw the cinnamon buns.  I ran over to my mother and asked if she wanted to share.  I don't remember why she didn't want to, but I decided to go for it anyways.  And I felt better because said cousin was also getting one.  Not only did it at least look  kinda homemade, it was giant and it was swimming in syrup/frosting.  I am not sure what I bolused for this delicious treat, but I do know that it was definitely bolus-worthy.  And then I was wondering whether I would need a temp basal for the rest of the ski day.  I decided to reset the temp basal, because I could always do another bolus if I didn't need it, and a high BG wouldn't stop me from skiing.  The whole family skied around a lot of the mountain, and then the cousins took off to ski some more.  When we went inside at lunch time, I was 179 mg/dL.  So I probably didn't need such an extreme temp basal, but things definitely could've been worse.  We went back out after lunch, with another temp basal, and at the end of the ski day, a 70 mg/dL was staring me back.  Not so bad either.

The reason these temp basals are perplexing me is because when I first got the pump in 2002, I needed temp basals while I was skiing.  And I of course always thought I would.  And then I slowly needed more and more insulin during a ski day.  But now, I'm needing more extreme temp basals during my ski days, making for some trial and error days.  (But maybe that's all diabetes ever is?)

Low Mistakes

On Tuesday Girl Genius didn't have any school, so we spent the whole day together.  It started with grocery shopping where I decided to buy mango lemonade rather than the berry juice as my low treatment of choice.  And it's good that I did because I was low for about three hours that day.  It started when I was mixing together breading for chicken for dinner that night.  She was helping me crunch up the cereal, and I was glad that there was nothing actually cooking at that moment.  We stopped making the breading to make lunch, which I enjoyed more than I should've (mac & cheese, but I put broccoli in mine).  And then after lunch I had a pounding headache, with a stomachache and I still felt low.  Girl Genius was in the playroom making families out of plastic ducks & markers, and dancing.  And I was low again.  I poured myself the third glass of juice, and this time I poured some of it down the front of me.  At this time I was extra glad I decided to go with the lemonade, considering my light pink shirt.  And glad that I get cold easily and prepare for that, so I zipped up my sweatshirt and no one was any wiser about my low mistakes. Or so I thought.

When it was time to get Girl Genius changed for ballet, she said.  "Why does it smell like juice?  Or fruit?"
"I spilled some down the front of my shirt."
"Were you low?"
"Yes."
"Again?"
"Yes."

I don't think she quite understands how being low makes me feel weaker or shaky, but she does know the only time I drink juice is when I'm low, and that sometimes when I'm low I can't play with her.  But experience of mine expands her knowledge of diabetes, and that's all I can ask.

Sun, Friend, City & Starbucks

Saturday was beautiful day up here in the Boston area, so I got together with my friend and we went walking through the city.  We walked around the common and down Newbury St. talking and talking and talking and ending up at the far end at Starbucks.  We have walked around the city before, and I quite often end up low.  Before we left, I was 134 mg/dL, but I didn't want to go low, especially since I was flatlining around 70 earlier in the day.  I set my temp basal for 50%.  I don't consider walking through the city exercise, but I won't discredit my diabetes for thinking it.  And I won't say that it's not good for me.  And as we stood in line at Starbucks, I was 65 mg/dL.  So not too low, but I was feeling it.  And as I walk up to the counter deciding what snack to get, I see this small, delicious treats staring me back.  (Now keep in mind that I was low.)  I am trying to figure out what these treats are, since there are no signs.  And I'm not really a "Starbucks" person.  I enjoy their coffee, but I don't broaden what I get because ordering at Starbucks is seriously intimidating to me.  But during Lent I am limiting myself to one cup of coffee per day.  

So I walk up and I ask "Is that a, um, red, um velvet......"
"whoopie pie?"
"Yes, that.  Can I get one of those?"
"Did you know that they're free with any beverage?"
*I got seriously excited* "No"
"Are you getting a beverage?"
"Yes.  Haven't gotten that far yet."
I move on down to the man at the cash register at which time I've decided I'm going to have a white chocolate mocha.  And I went for the whipped cream.  And I got the red velvet whoopie pie.  And my friend scored a table in the busy Starbucks.  So we sat down and talked more and more and more and my whoopie pie was delicious beyond delicious.  I bolused for 30g. of carbs.  And as we got ready to walk back, Not only was I 143 mg/dL I was trying to talk myself out of getting another mocha.  I was not successful.  I decided that I would have that instead of a temp basal for our walk back.  This was inspired by Holly and using diabetes to our advantage.  I mean, I wanted it and I didn't want to go low again.  Win win.  So we stared heading back after I ate my Rocky Road Cake Pop (the Red Velvet Whoopie Pie was so so so so much better; but I'm also not a big chocolate person.)  As we were walking back towards the Common, we passed a CVS, and I was pretty sure I forgot to pack extra test strips, so went in.  And this was what I like to call a double decker CVS, which I had never seen before, so we went downstairs towards the pharmacy.  I stood in line after making sure they had One Touch, and my friend was still standing over near the diabetes supplies because it was pretty cramped.  She comes back over and asks me a question.  Not only did she ask me this, but she pretended to be in a sword fight (yes, we're adults).  Sometimes, you just need a friend with a new perspective to make you laugh at this thing that can suck the life out of you sometimes.   We finished our walk and got back on the T, and I was a joyous 60-something.  I didn't want to get rid of the delicious tastes that were previously occupying my mouth, so I ate 1 glucose tab.  Yes, I realize this is not the recommended amount of low correction and yes, I realize this might sound crazy, but I was sitting and my friend lives right next to the T stop.  So I hung out with my friend for a little while, and then before I got ready to leave, I was around 120.  Perfect driving number :)

Skiing, Eating & Talking Low

When I was on vacation, I took one day and went skiing with my mom and aunt.  We went to Loon, which is where I remember our family vacations starting.  It was a beautiful day and we skied and skied and took a coffee break (where my BG was high) and skied some more until we met up with another family friend who has two young children.  We ended skiing with the little boy so that he didn't have to wait while they tried to coax the younger sister out on the slopes.  At 11:30 when we picked him up, I was starting to get hungry.  We usually try to wait to eat lunch until about 1:00 or so that we can ski while the rest of the skiers are eating their lunch.  Skiing with the little boy was great, but by the time we met back up with his mother an hour later, I was starving.  And we were on the opposite side of the mountain from my favorite lodge, which is where we had said we'd get lunch.  We skied over and I was working from memory.  I knew I was low.  I walked into the lodge and couldn't even talk to people to see if they were leaving so we could have their table.  I took off my mittens, helmet, etc, etc, and had mom hand over the meter and some sort of 50 number was staring me back in the face.  Whether it was tabs or juice, I don't remember, but I finished it as quick as possible, that's all I know.  But I was certainly still "low" for quite a while.  I went through line and ordered my soup and talked with my mother about what to get to drink and I heard my name.  When I hear my name, it's a seriously good chance that it's someone I know.  I'm trying to figure out who is talking to me, and it's one of my college tennis teammates.  She wasn't just a teammate though, she was my very first roommate.  And I was in the midst of a "shitfaced low!" We talked for a few minutes, catching up, and me staring at my food.  Knowing I needed it in my belly.  By the time I finished my lunch, she was gone, so I couldn't go back and have a real conversation.  But it was still good to be able to talk to her, even it was in the midst of a low blood sugar.

My Happy Place

I went up to Sunday River with my family for the weekend.  I don't know if it's Maine, or the fact that in high school cell phones wouldn't work there, or just family, but Sunday River is my happy place.  And I'm not trying to steal their slogan, it just is.  I left right from work on Friday, and I was a little bit nervous about my drive.  The last time I made the drive, I was pretty tired.  But this time I looked good  (so I felt good) since I had my meeting with the Animas rep that morning (more on that soon).  I get there, text my friend so she knows I achieved my travel goals, and join the family who's already had a few drinks with dinner and dominoes, and since I'm the last one there, and the one with a tough week, we all head down to the bar.  It's not something that we've ever really done before, but we've got some great memories.  We learned about doo-yahs in Maine (I want to see if anyone out there knows what it is), and we held our faces from laughing to much, and we wondered how many people at the bar would be there when the chairs opened with us.  It was the perfect start to a weekend following a not so good week.

White Heat: my favorite

On Saturday, we woke up early to get the good runs in.  We started making our way through the fog and up and around to the groomed trails.   This included White Heat.  When I was nine, I started doing White Heat and it's partner, Shockwave.  At the time, they had a sign warning you of the dangers including severe injury or death from falling.  This sign was at a point of no return. I started crying and it took me 45 minutes to get down, for fear of falling.  As my mom says, "if you hadn't been able to read, you would've been fine."  I don't know if that's why, but every time I make it to the bottom of these, I get a huge surge of pride.  Well White Heat had been groomed and Shockwave had not.  My dad, uncle and cousin headed over there while the rest of headed down White Heat.  We got to the intersection and waited for them and I'm starting to feel low.  My mom carries my meter because she has a lot more pockets than I do.  She gets it out, and I'm expecting a number in the 60s.  Except that a 31 mg/dL stares me back in the face.  I get out my gluco-shot, which tasted so bad I thought I was going to throw it up.  And then my mom asked me the fateful question.  "Do you need to go in?"  I hate this question as it relates to diabetes.  I didn't feel that low, so I didn't feel like I needed to go in.  But the number staring me back told me otherwise.  So my mother and I headed inside while everyone else stayed skiing.  I got inside and waited  for my numbers to come up.  They did, but I wanted to stay a little longer, make sure I didn't start to drop again.  I didn't, but the tired feeling never left.  The rest of the day had decent numbers, though they were rising the rest of the day.  Whether it was the 31, or the fog & rain, I definitely felt tired the rest of the day.

Diabetes Success

When my week started like this, and ended the same way, it was time to write down, print & fax my numbers over to Joslin.  That was on a Friday, and I wasn't able to talk to my nurse until Wednesday or Thursday.  She had me change my overnight basal, my sensitivity factor and some advice.  She suggested that I seem to be extra sensitive to insulin when my blood sugar is super high.  Over 400 is how I'm interpreting super high for right now.  So she suggested that if I get that high again, to not take a full bolus. So on Friday when I was 485, I plugged it into my pump and before I sent it on it's way, I decreased it by 10 percent.  I was a little skeptical about this, but, it worked!  When I got home from work, I felt low and was hanging out between 65-75, so I had two juice boxes.  But that is the lowest I ever went!  There were no BGs in the thirties.  There was no bottoming out.  There was no scary low.  It just was a baby low, and my BG even leveled out enough to go out for a beer.  Friday's correction was a diabetes success!

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.

Glucagon

I've never needed glucagon.  I take pride in this.  I probably could have used it a few times in my life (when my forehead slammed on the desk in third grade, when I blacked out with my friends in high school - I didn't drink in high school, so this was the effect of a low), but I've never received it.  And yesterday my friend started talking to me about how she has never used it either, but how she's had some serious lows before.  Talking to my friend, remembering Jacquie's post, and reading Sarah's post, we feel like we are ticking time bombs.  I've gone 21 years without it.  I know where it is in my apartment, but would I be able to tell someone where it is if I needed it?  Would I be here, able to access it?  What would be the reason why I needed it?  How would I handle it?  What would happen after?  This weekend was scary.  It has me thinking about the reality of glucagon more seriously.  I am not prepared for this, but are we ever?