Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Just once, how about a normal day???

OK, so I’m a bit compulsive. I have been testing 8-10 times a day since diagnosis, I call my CDE an average of once a week, and I can and do make various adjustments based on what’s going on that particular day. I’m not stupid. I feel like, just once, I deserve a break and get BG numbers where they’re supposed to be. It never happens.

Take last night for example. We were pretty much out of food (yes, I’m another of those thirty-something women with kids, with both of us working and 3 kids with activities; dinnertime tends to be pretty hectic). Not having the energy to thaw anything, I reluctantly take out the pasta. I say reluctantly because in 2 years of diabetes I still cannot come up with a formula that works for pasta (being married to an Italian, this is a big issue). The closest I can come is to do a split dose, half now and half spread over 30 minutes, followed when the 30 minutes are up by something quick-acting and another bolus. Oh, and don’t eat very much - 1 cup tops. So we get out the meatballs, sauce, pasta, milk and canned green beans. The kids are thrilled because we never have pasta anymore. I figure out my split dose on 57g carbs and dig in.

It’s apple season, and we’d just gone apple picking with the kids. I have pretty much given up on fresh fruit altogether after twice trying almost double the insulin for an apple that I have weighed beforehand (and not even eaten all I’d planned on) and going up over 330 both times (yes, the second time I had taken way more insulin. No dice). So much for eating healthier after diagnosis – my eating habits were great before, now they’re less so. I mean, an apple will send me to 350 or 42 depending on I-don’t-know-what, sunspot activity or something, nothing I seem to be able to keep track of. An Oreo is always 0.6 units of insulin at lunch. Which would you rather deal with at work?

I’m digressing (expect that a lot). Besides apples, we also picked up a home-baked apple pie from the farm. First of the season. So, for my after-pasta part 2, I cut a slice of pie, weigh it, consult two different books and pick a magic number. Two hours later, 143. Hey, not bad!

Since this was a pasta meal, I know I’ve got to check at bedtime, because it’s going to be way up there. Sure enough, 230 two hours later. So I take a small correction (1 unit, should leave me at 180) and head to bed.

I sleep thru the two-hour check beeping. This is a problem because I know from past experience if I sleep thru it, I probably went low and I’m going to be bouncing all over the place from now on. I wake at 4:30am and test. 267. OK, get the pump to recommend a correction. 4.7??? that can’t be right. I try to wake up enough to figure out what number I should be using. How about 3.0? Should bring me to right about 100.

At 6am I’m 48. Shit. OK, grab the juice box from next to the bed, slurp it down and lay back on the pillow. Wait fifteen minutes or so, then drag myself out of bed, try and help get the kids out the door. I test again and I’m 85. I can’t function, find myself just staring stupidly while my husband runs around, signing homework, making lunches, making sure the kids are dressed and brushed. I manage to pour milk, make some whole wheat toast, take half my usual amount of insulin, turn the kindergartener’s shirt right side out, and watch the puppy poop on the rug. Shouldn’t be acting like this; I’m not low. Looks like full shutdown mode. Shutdown mode is what I call it when my BG has bounced up and down too much, too quickly. It’s similar to the aftereffects of a migraine; when it happens pretty much all I can do is crawl into bed and sleep for 4 hours.

I call in sick to work and go lay on the couch. I stay downstairs until my 2-hour post-breakfast reminder - hm, only 65. OK, drink a cup of milk and go back to bed.

Wake up 3 hours later and feel human again. Test - 235, yeah, well, it’s all going to be shit today, I’m not surprised. Look for lunch - my husband has somehow managed to make me a sandwich during the morning havoc. I settle down to whole wheat sandwich, glass of milk, half a green pepper and an oreo (yes, I’ve tried without the Oreo, cut out all "bad" carbs for months. Didn’t make one bit of difference in my control and I felt like I was in prison. "Bad" carbs are back, as long as the rest of the day is reasonable).

So yet again things are seesawing, and yet I keep plugging away, hoping that tomorrow I'll finally get it right..