Stupid Diabetes Move.
My brain hasn't been attached this week. I overslept one morning and was late to work. I left my wallet at home another day. I completely blanked out on a meeting I had at work.
And yesterday, I left my meter at home by accident.
You would think that working in a diabetes media company, with another diabetic, would have me existing in a constant state of able-to-be-bailed-out. But no! I went foraging for my meter around 9:30 in the morning and couldn't find it. I dumped out the contents of my work back on the floor (making a clattering sound against the concrete, but my coworkers have since learned that I'm a disaster and they anticipate the random noise), but couldn't find that blasted black zippered case.
"Where are you?" I said out loud. (Coworkers are also used to me talking to myself. Poor coworkers.) My meter didn't answer. Apparently it did not hear me because it was rested quite happily on top of the basket of folded laundry in my bedroom at home.
"Hey, Howard? Do you have an extra meter hanging around?" Nothing like paupering for diabetes supplies to the CEO. While he didn't have an extra meter, he did have a strip I could use in my back up Freestyle meter.
"Do you need more than one?"
"Nah. I'll go home at lunch and find my meter. No problem - thanks!"
It was a weird feeling of relief to finally test. Not having the option of knowing my numbers made me feel uneasy. And it was an even weirder feeling of unpreparedness. I felt like the diabetes anti-Boy Scout.
And then Real Life took hold. A meeting that ran late prevented me from going home for lunch, and I had to instead pop out quickly to grab a bite from the deli down the street. Howard (and his diabetes supply stash) had to leave the office for a meeting for the rest of the afternoon. Diabetes took a big time backseat to the rest of the day, and all of a sudden, I realized it was 3:00 in the afternoon and I hadn't tested since 9:30 in the morning.
And the Dexcom sensor fell off on Monday evening and I've yet to stick the next one back on.
I felt like I was driving blindly - nervous about eating anything with more than few carbs because I didn't want to chance the spike, reluctant to bolus because I feared not feeling the low. Yes, I should have gone home to get my meter. Yes, I should have been more prepared. Yes, yes, yes, I did the self-nagging and the guilt-tripping. But NO, I wasn't prepared. I wasn't even remotely ready. It was the diabetes equivalent of that dream where you are naked in you 10th grade classroom.
I've talked about this before, but there's a LOT of packing that goes along with diabetes. A weekend home in RI is never just a bag with clothes and my toothbrush - I bring a whole backup medical kit to account for everything from pump failures to yeast infections (thank you, stash of probiotics!). And my work desk is more than dLife papers and columns - there's a rotation of meters, infusion sets, and other diabetes supplies kicking around. I'm always preaching about being prepared, and for the most part, I am.
Those moments of being caught with my meter down prove why being well-stocked is the best option. But blah blah, it's not always that easy to get it right every time. Yesterday sucked, and I felt like a fool, and I was rewarded with a blood sugar of 300 mg/dl when I came home.
I'm off my game this week. I think it's because I forgot to call Larry on his birthday.