I slept late on Saturday. And as much of a treat as that was, I knew I was in trouble. I planned to do my big two-hour workout at 10:15am that morning, and now I had just one hour to eat and adjust my insulin dosing. This was going to be tricky.
I tried to do the super-low-carb breakfast, in order to keep insulin requirements down to null, but instead reaffirmed that I just can’t function without my latte — and a little something carby to chew on — early in the day. So I dosed for an estimated two-thirds of the carbs going in, and set a temp basal program for -50% for two hours. This seemed reasonable. I had tried this before with essentially the same menu choices and it had worked.
Well, nuts. About half-an-hour into my “advanced cardio” class (with the insanely loud music), I was SURE that my sunny-side-up eggs were going to come out my ears. It was all I could do to keep on the right foot to “Too Late to Apologize” while grasping my breakfast-bouncing belly. A digestion problem. OK, I can deal. But I was also sweating like… well, like a guy. Still, I trudged through another 15 minutes of bouncing and biceps!! before it dawned on me to check my sugar.
52 mg/dL and presumably dropping [insert expletive]
No wonder I feel like crap! How stupid am I not to notice this? How many more minutes before my legs would’ve given out and I’d have ended up face down on the BoFlex floor if I hadn’t checked?
And for God’s sake, why can’t I just sleep in and eat a late breakfast like other people? Why does everything have to be so complicated?!
So after one entire mini-pack of raisins and several raspberry-flavored glucose tabs (ooh, the stomach!), I managed to crouch on the floor in a sweaty heap and press buttons on my pump: cancel -50% temp basal, and quick-like enable -75% temp basal. I stood up, still feeling fuzzy-headed and pissed off at my diabetes and the world at large, yet was somehow still able to jump — although I couldn’t follow along with the repetition counts to save my life. And I kept thinking: I’m being punished for sleeping in. Diabetics can’t afford such decadence!
I kept thinking about a conversation I’d had at a barbecue the day before, trying to explain diabetes to some well-meaning guy who was shocked to hear how often we need to test our blood glucose. “You know eating and exercising and driving and all those things normal people do without thinking about ’em?” I asked him. “Well, it’s pretty complicated for us. We have to think about every move we make.” He looked pensive. And then ditched me — so he could actually have some fun at the barbecue, I presume. Yeah.
And I also kept thinking: so is this non-compliance? Not keeping my blood sugars in the perfect range, despite the fact that I have lots of tools my diabetic ancestors never had? Screw that. To all you folks out there who think you know how blood sugar control is supposed to work, let me reiterate: this is NOT EXACT SCIENCE. Shit happens. Fairly often. No matter how diligent we are.
Every day is different, get me? So don’t be getting all judgmental on us. Just nod and smile. Don’t try to get too involved in helping us with our BGs, either.
From my side, I mostly prefer to be left alone to do my thing. Once in while during bad patch (like Saturday), however, I could REALLY use some empathy that is not judgmental.
OK, rant over. Thank you for listening.
[Editor’s Note: The title of this post originates from the Seven Words of Wisdom for Diabetes; spot-on.]