Did anyone read the children's book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? I somewhat believe this book was written for adults as a way to relate to kids when they have bad days.
Case in point: this morning. Actually, it started last night. I looked at the Dexcom software for the first time since it's been almost a month since I've had Constance and I wanted to see how my averages were doing. I was floored at how bad my nighttime numbers were, especially from midnight to 3:00 AM. So I bumped up my nighttime basal 0.1 units. But dinner for the evening was chicken parmesan with rotini pasta. I thought I had my pasta bolus down (square bolus over 3 hours), but boy was I wrong. My numbers were good for the first 2 hours, in fact my peak was only 129 mg/dL. But as soon as the bolus stopped and I was ready for bed, I saw a southeast arrow heading towards my 70 mg/dL alarm. Sure enough, around 10:30 PM, BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! Test: 67 mg/dL. Chomp 5 glucose tabs and head back to bed. I was dead tired, but I was afraid to go to sleep. My <55 mg/dL was going off, too, at 49 mg/dL. I tried to stay awake long enough to know I was going up. I wasn't "feeling" low. I never experienced rapid heart beat, shaking, sweaty, or even dizzy which is usually my first symptom. But my meter and Constance were telling me I was too low to feel comfortable going to sleep. I finally saw 63 mg/dL with an arrow going up, so I felt confident enough to fall asleep.
The tabs bumped me up to the mid 80s where I stayed most of the night until 3:00 AM when my morning basal kicks in, so I was greeted with another low alarm at 68 mg/dL. However, I know my numbers take a kick up when I wake up (stress?), so I went back to sleep until my alarm went off two hours later. After my alarm went off, I hit the snooze but not long before Arnold started beeping with a "Low Reservoir" alarm. "For crying out loud!" I thought.
When I finally got up to test, I was 90 mg/dL (thanks, dawn phenomenon). I programmed my insulin for breakfast and hopped in the shower. After eating and getting ready, I packed my lunch and hopped in the car (also noticed this is the 2nd time I've used the word "hopped", but I was really doing anything but, more like dragging). My commute usually takes 25 minutes, and I made it all the way to my parking lot before I noticed . . . no wallet, no meter. "[expletive] [expletive] [expletive]!!!"
I could do without the wallet until I got home, but not my meter. Even with Constance, I still need finger sticks to calibrate, and I simply don't feel comfortable going 9 hours without a finger test. So I pull back out of the parking lot and make the 25 minute commute back home, run into the house while leaving the car running, grab my wallet/meter, and run back to the car. An hour and a half later, I finally walk up to my office and retrieve the necessary caffeine.
At the end of Alexander's bad day, he wants to move to Australia. I want to move to Jacquie's island of bad pets, because at least someone there would have had a meter.
And y'all, it's only 9:00 AM . . .
DISCLAIMER: I am not a doctor, nurse, certified diabetes educator (CDE) or any medical professional of any kind. (But I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express!) Therefore, please do not use any of my postings as medical fact. I am simply a blogger expressing my highs and lows (pun intended) with diabetes. For changes in your medication, exercise regiment, or diet please consult a qualified physician.