Katie Couric Said So.
Yesterday was a disasterous diabetes day. Despite the fact that the day began in a flurry of Sox fans and ended with a 14-3 victory, my blood sugar numbers left much to be desired.
I started out the day at a slightly elevated 157 mg/dl, but I took a little correction bolus and then disconnected for the shower. Headed off to work to enjoy a crispy 244 mg/dl before I had my coffee.
"What the hell ..." Check the site. Check the pump. Everything looks good. Bolus in a correction and carry on. Half an hour later, 276 mg/dl.
"Oh come on," I plead with my thigh. Lace in a few more units. An hour later, peaking at 290 mg/dl. Mouth thick with sweaters, a high headache, and feeling too sleepy to sit at a computer and try to focus on work.
45 minutes later, back down to 210 mg/dl. An hour from there, 176 mg/dl.
A shaky 59 mg/dl at lunchtime.
Ridiculous. It's my own fault for correcting on top of correcting, but I felt so frustrated with the high that I was intent upon getting it down. Of course, I slightly over-treated the reaction because it felt particularly intense after a morning of elevated blood sugars, so I had the pleasure of a 261 mg/dl later in the afternoon.
Back down to 143 mg/dl before I left work.
Before going into the gym, I was steady at 134 mg/dl. Feeling better now that I was down to a normal number but beaten down after a day of ping-ponging, I hopped on the treadmill and started my Larry Bird 33 minutes. The televisions at the gym were all on, but no sound, so I listened to my iPod and watched the news in closed-captioning.
Katie Couric sat at the newsdesk and a graphic reading "Type 1 Diabetes" appeared over her right shoulder. My eyes locked on the screen. Sweat on my forehead. Working out hard. Tested my blood sugar - 90 mg/dl. I felt strong and healthy and like the world was mine to conquer.
The tv showed a young girl with a meter and an insulin pump. The captioning then switched to talk about the study in Brazil where 13 type 1 patients are now making their own insulin, after a risky yet hopefully effective procedure. "Potentially a cure for people living with type 1 diabetes."
My heart leapt. Is it okay to hope sometimes? Or is it safer to not think about it and instead fight hard, every day, because my life - our lives -depend on it?
Closed captioning keeps coming: "Could be the breakthrough for type 1 ... years a
way from reaching the public ... cure ... advancements in technology ... cure..."
Shaky. My legs are weak. The sweat on my brow feels different, colder somehow. I slow the treadmill down and test - 55 mg/dl.
Tears of frustration spring up. I felt so strong just seven minutes ago, when my blood sugar was at 90 mg/dl. Now I feel crumpled at 55 mg/dl. I drain half of my juice bottle and wait for my blood sugar to rise. The word "cure" is on the closed captioning slates behind my eyes.
I just want to know. I want to know what it will be like. I want it in my lifetime. I'm reluctant to say that I want it now because that means I'm allowing myself to hope. Hope is nice and makes me smile, but it does nothing to lower my A1c or repair my eyes.
Some days, diabetes is something small that I carry in my pocket. Other days it is something heavy that I drag behind me in a wagon with no wheels.
But is there a tiny glimmer of hope now? I mean, Katie Couric said so.
Comments
This says it all:
Some days, diabetes is something small that I carry in my pocket. Other days it is something heavy that I drag behind me in a wagon with no wheels.
I'm sorry you had a crappy blood sugar day.
Posted by: Michelle | April 11, 2007 08:48 AM
I hate those yo-yo days.
And I'll happily burn all my diabetes paraphernalia the day that I'm cured. I'm looking forward to watching that stuff go up in smoke.
Posted by: Bernard Farrell | April 11, 2007 10:05 AM
It feels like they've been promising a cure for T1 forever. But doesn't it seem in the last year or so that some real innovations are taking place? I hope for all of our OC friends that the cure happens soon and one day we will look back on diabetes as a thing of the past.
Posted by: Zazzy | April 11, 2007 10:35 AM
Oh, Kerri...I do hope she is right.
I am sorry to hear about how rocky yesterday was for you.
I am getting increasing familiar with those workout lows, too, despite my best efforts.
High headaches are the worst.
Hang in there, Kerri. Today is another day, I do give a damn (and I know you do too)!
Posted by: Johnboy | April 11, 2007 11:13 AM
I have partial faith in a cure anymore.
One part says yes, it will happen. The other part says, so it will happen, will anyone fund it so that it can be applied to the Type 1 population?
I hope that when a cure is created, that no one lets it sit on a shelf.
Posted by: Shannon | April 11, 2007 11:34 AM
I read about this and believe that it is for newly diagnosed type 1's who still have islet cell function
Still, a nice step
Posted by: anonymous | April 11, 2007 11:41 AM
Hey Kerri,
I've been a lurker on your site for a little under a year, but boy do I know what you're talking about.
When you wrote "Some days, diabetes is something small that I carry in my pocket. Other days it is something heavy that I drag behind me in a wagon with no wheels.", we all know that exact feeling, and I for one, hate that feeling each and every day. I'm sorry that your day was not a very good one, but hope is never a bad thing to hold onto.
Posted by: Tom | April 11, 2007 12:12 PM
I don't know why I'm commenting here instead of on the original post, where you only mentioned it tangentially, but Halle Berry is a Type 2 diabetic and has been since her early 20's.
(I read some interview with her a couple of months ago to that effect).
Sorry for the random; love the blog.
Posted by: Claire | April 11, 2007 12:20 PM
Oh, man, the wagon...sometimes it feels like a Sherman tank. I surprised my parents this past weekend, flying to Texas for their anniversary. With the adrenaline from the surprise and the fatigue from the travel and the Rice Krispie treats (something I haven't had in YEARS), my sugars were all over the map. I feel like I am still recovering - on Sunday, I had a spike of 349, I corrected, then an hour later I was at 49. Two hours later, 257.
I don't think we'll have a cure in my lifetime (I'm 39)...but with the projects that JDRF is funding, there is REAL HOPE for an artificial pancreas and other therapies that will take away some of the weight we carry. Until then,it sounds corny, but perhaps we can carry for each other sometimes?
Posted by: Charla | April 11, 2007 01:51 PM
Kerri,
I heard Katie Couric say so last night.
And, I couldn't help but get excited..and cry a little bit.
I just go on with each day like there will never be a cure, and then this comes up and I think "Maybe Riley can be cured."
My hope was intact before, but it's soring right now.
Posted by: Penny | April 11, 2007 03:02 PM
Hey Kerri,
Sorry you had a roller coaster day. I am however, very glad that you have posted about it. I am very new to the blogging world, and have just recently found this huge community of D-bloggers. I am overjoyed at the information I have been getting. My son was diagnosed 2 years ago, and has had more days like the one you described than i care to remember. As his mom and primary caretaker, I have been feeling angry and guilty - thinking I am screwing up royally when it comes to managing his blood sugars. Something they don't tell you at all those doctor visits: Everyone has days like that- who knew?"
I am so glad I stumbled into this world. I pray for a cure, and hope that this news in Brazil leads to wonderful advancements!
Take care,
Lea
Posted by: Lea | April 11, 2007 03:20 PM
Is it wrong that I'm too terrified to believe that this might be it? Because it is. I've been getting emails and reading posts about this subject all day and while I want to believe, I'm so fucking tired of getting my hopes up only to have them dashed again and again. I feel like a skittish pony, shying away from the hand that's beaten it in the past. That's a sucky feeling.
I haven't even told O about it yet.
Posted by: julia | April 11, 2007 06:21 PM
hi Kerri,
i think that if it's hope that helps lighten the wagon load that we all drag along, even if just a little bit,there's nothing wrong with that.
Have a good night.
Posted by: Randee | April 11, 2007 08:19 PM
hey kerri,
sorry to hear about your bad diabetes day...(i hate those days)! But i too heard about the experiments done in Brazil in the newspaper today! There is always room for hope =)
Jenna.
Posted by: Jenna | April 11, 2007 09:50 PM
Love the wagon comment - I feel that too. Hate hate HATE days like that - but somehow they help to make the 'normal' days seem brighter :)
As for a cure, I keep my hope bottled. I'm not at all positive about it at this point - I'll wait until it's definite, proven, tested, and available for everyone, THEN maybe I'll consider thinking about possibly, maybe, accepting it as real. Maybe :P
Posted by: M | April 12, 2007 08:23 AM
i've had a whole week like that. i wish i could use a thigh site like you.
Posted by: vicki | April 12, 2007 02:26 PM
I just found your site and am so glad that I did. I really like the way you describe your moment to moment reality. I have CF and have had 2 double lung transplants (I also now have diabetes) and it never ceases to amaze me how similar the story despite the very different illnesses. Similar frustrations, challenges, emotional roller-coasters and rewards.
I have linked you on my blog I'd love it if you check out mine and maybe link me too!
http://sickgirlspeaks.blogspot.com/I wish you all the best.
Posted by: Tiffany | April 14, 2007 05:40 PM
Hey Kerri,
Great line:
"Some days, diabetes is something small that I carry in my pocket. Other days it is something heavy that I drag behind me in a wagon with no wheels. "
I too often pound down the highs - being stubbornly stupid about it. Thinking, in the heat of the moment, that I'd happily deal with a low just to get down from this high.
Then I pay for it later.
Posted by: Scott Johnson | April 14, 2007 11:32 PM