Since just after Thanksgiving, I've been battling against this messy conclave of germs that have taken up residence in my body. Starting with strep, morphing into what may have been the flu, and then culminating in a nasty little cold, it's been a very arduous few days.
Blood sugars have been a testament to the worst of diabetes, hitting excessive highs of 477 mg/dl (no ketones - I checked) and a rage-bolus low that caught me in the 50's. It's amazing how fragile my body is when I'm under the weather. Something as simple as a cup of coffee without an accompanying bolus is enough to toss me into the stratosphere, leaving numbers orbiting for hours. And blood sugars like 180 mg/dl feel more like 300 mg/dl, with every fiber on the teeth-sweaters thicker and the lead in my fingertips heavier. My schedule was mucked up beyond recognition, with random fits of napping every few hours, no time at the gym, and a bedtime in the single digits (vs. in the wee hours of the morning). Mugs upon mugs of herbal tea. Add a few documentaries (courtesy of Netflix online) to the mix and I was one hunkered down sicky.
And Chris ended up with it, too. Poor guy.
Instead of heading out for some late-night fun, my fiance and I holed up in the apartment for the weekend and festered. It felt like winter, with the soft gray skies and the dusting of snow on Sunday morning.
To celebrate the beginning of December and to drum up a little holiday cheer, we unearthed the Christmas tree from the depths of our storage closet. Last year, we did blue bulbs. This year, we went for red.
Something about having the Christmas tree in the living room made it feel like Christmas. (Of course, Sausage couldn't keep her little mitts off the thing and she's been prowling around the edges of it, batting at ornaments and meowing plaintively.) Chris and I are ready to celebrate our first holiday season as an engaged couple, and our last before we become husband and wife in May.
Just the thought of our wedding helps me feel a little bit better.