A BUSY day in the life . . . with diabetes

So, the first entry for Diabetes Blog Week is an average (if there is such a thing) day in the life of diabetes.  I recently took a personality test which revealed I'm 96% introvert.  Basically, 96% of the time I'm having an internal dialogue in my head.  So, I figured the best way to display an "average" day is to show a typical timeline of a workday for me including random thoughts that occur in my head that hardly anyone ever knows (feel privileged?).  Here we go:

5:00 AM:  Alarm radio begins.  Immediately hit the snooze button.  "Seriously, it can't be this early already . . ."

5:10 AM:  Alarm blares.  I let it play for 2 minutes and listen to what the weather will be like today. "Sweater."

5:12 AM:  Finally get out of bed and drag myself to the shower.  Turn it on.  Detach Arnold.  Slide in shower.  "I need to shave, but I don't have time.  Guess no skirt for today." 

5:30 AM:  Get out of the shower, robe on, reattach Arnold.  BG test:  163.  "Damnit! Never below 130!"  Fill a bowl of Kix cereal and milk. "25 grams of carbs for 1 cup plus 13 grams of carbs for 1 cup of milk equals 38 grams of carbs total."  BEEP(163 mg/dL)--BEEP(38 g)--BEEP(0.7u + 3.8u = 4.5u total)--BEEP(confirm).  Watch the local news and eat while Roscoe patiently awaits to lick the milk reside from my bowl.  "Spoiled mutt." 

6:00 AM:  Start getting ready while hubby slowly starts waking up.  Pills popped (generic Prilosec and vitamins).  Brush teeth.  Apply face lotion.  Begin drying my hair and get surprise by a butt squeeze.  "Hello, beautiful!"  "Hey, baby."  Get dressed.  Put make-up on, fix hair, jewelry, and shoes.  One last look in the mirror.  "I'm only 25, I shouldn't have all these line."

6:45 AM:  Say good-bye to hubby (yes, I know, he gets ready faster than me, but I'm a diabetic woman, reason alone for an extra hour and a half).  Pack my lunchbox (PB sandwich, carrots, Sun chips, apple, yogurt, 100 calorie popcorn).  Let Roscoe outside for the day.  "I really hope it doesn't rain.  He'll get wet and be scared from the lightning and thunder."  Call hubby and discuss leaving him inside, but decide to chance it out. 

7:00 AM:  Leave for work.  Commuting usually take 25-30 minutes from door-to-door.  Listen to morning radio by two sexy fat guys in Birmingham (if you're from the south, you know who they are).  Usually, I am crying from laughing so hard.  "Wish I was that clever."

7:25 AM:  Arrive at gate with the same security guard that I see everyday.  "Hey there, Gorgeous."  "Mornin'."  Go through the gate and arrive at my building.  Scan nifty key card.  BEEP!  Walk up 2 flights of stairs to my office.  Drop off my purse, sunglasses, and lunchbox.  Grab coffee mug and head to breakroom.  "Sweet! Coffee's made!"  Poor coffee and stir in hazelnut creamer.  Head back to office and bring up email.  Spend the next 2 hours checking email, programming buoy data, and general office "Good Mornin's" to my officemates. 

8:30 AM:  BG test:  146.  "Hmmm.  Should I have my yogurt now or later.  If I have it now I'll be either really hungry or low before lunch.  But if I have it later I may run into my 9:00 meeting going low."  Internal dialogue continues for 20 minutes before deciding to scarf down yogurt before 9:00 AM meeting.

10:00 AM:  9:00 AM meeting is over.  Check email again.  Program and check data analysis again.  Again.  Again.  Frustrated with wacky numbers and IM team member to for help.  He comes down to my office and he immediately finds my glitch.  "Tricky force field of only not-working-like-it-was-five-minutes-ago when someone else is around!"  Team mate goes on about his weekend activities after glitch.  "If he talks longer than 30 minutes my BG is gonna stop dropping."  He leaves just before I start getting sweaty and clammy.

11:30 AM:  BG test:  76.  "Just in time! Time for my PB sammich!"  BEEP(-0.8u)--BEEP(4.5u)--BEEP(3.7u total)--BEEP(confirm).  Eat lunch while checking D-blogs, PhD comics, LOLcats, and Eclipse movie stalking (June 30th, PEOPLE!).  Finish lunch and head out for a quick walk around my building to get out of my office and get some Vitamin-D.

12:30 PM:  Try to beat off the post-lunch droll and try to start data analysis again.

 2:00 PM:  BG test:  133.  Another snack:  popcorn!  Walk down to the breakroom and begin popping.  "Hope I don't burn it again and stink up the whole office."  Success!  Make officemates and generally the whole building jealous for the aroma.  "24 grams over 30 minute square bolus equals 2.4 units."  BEEP--BEEP--BEEP.

2:30-4:45 PM:  Generally varies depending on the day from being stuck in my office data analyzing or meetings or rush requests.

4:45 PM:  Turn basal rate down to 50% to prepare for my 30 minute walk when I get home.  (I'm still trying to figure out a good rate because I don't want to have to constantly correct with juice after working out.  Kinda defeats the purpose of working out, to me.)  Begin commute home from work.  Take the back roads because the main highway is already congested.  "Please don't hit me, big semi.  Please, don't hit me."

5:15 PM:  Arrive home and get slobbered by 60 lbs of lab love from Roscoe!  Start changing from work clothes to walking clothes, all while Roscoe is looking at me waiting for the magic phrase.  "Wanna go for a walk?!"  *ruff RUFF ruff*

5:30 PM:  Grab leash and head out the door.  We get half way down the driveway when "Crap, need to turn basal rate down again."  Turn basal rate down to 1% for one hour.  Take the trail through the woods connecting our neighborhood to the one down the street that has sidewalks (our street doesn't).  Spend the next 30 minutes saying, "Heel, Roscoe!" or "Don't eat that!" or "Come on . . . "  Roscoe must feel like a celebrity because all the dogs begin barking at him when he strolls down his red carpet, err, I mean sidewalk.

6:00 PM:  Arrive back home sweaty and generally crisp from the sun exposure.  Roscoe heads to his water bowl while I test.  BG test:  68.  "Fudge monkeys!  I'll get this figured out one day!"  Grab a juice box and begin to make dinner.  Hubby is home by now and takes a seat at the bar while we chat, he gets on his laptop, and I attempt to make something edible for us.  "Breaded fish.  Should it be breaded?  I'm still a little low from walking.  If we have green beans with it that makes it healthier.  But what else?  Corn?"

7:00 PM:  BG test:  86.  Eat dinner with hubby and talk about our day or the dog or weekend plans, etc.  Clean up the kitchen.  Clean out the cat litter box.  Veg out to The Office, Family Guy (or if it's Tuesday, American Idol and Glee).

9:00 PM:  BG test:  143.  "Really hope I wake up lower than this."  Climb in bed, wrapped in hubby's arms.  "Goodnight."  "Goodnight."  *smack*  Check Arnold's location in the bed.  Can't find him.  FREAK!  "Where's Arnold?!"  "He's on my side," hubby says.  "Here, take him back."  Position Arnold on my side within my curled legs.  "Hope I don't rip him out in the middle of the night."

Fade to black . . .

And that, folks, is a day in the life (or my head, at least) with diabetes.