BEEEEEEEEEP!s and Basals.
It's January 22, and I've been sticking with my New Year's resolution of keeping a Log Book. (Said Log Book is currently in my home, all current and three-hole punched and was almost eaten once by Abby but then I put it in the bookcase so now it's safe.) And after taking note of all the highs I've had in the morning hours, and the weird drops I'm experiencing just before going to the gym at night, I decided to do a little basal tweaking.
Here's the disclaimer: Talk to your doctor before tweaking your basals. Kerri is not a licensed CDE or a medical professional of any kind, and quite frankly, if you follow her advice, you may end up tucked inside of a banana for all eternity. [See also: Siah.]
I don't take a lot of basal insulin throughout the day, but I do use many basal flucutations. It's not one steady dose for me. I range from .45 u of Humalog in the afternoon hours to about .75 u in the early morning hours. For a while, this worked out pretty well. But maybe it's the lack of birth control pill hormones, or the absence of wedding-related stress, or maybe the new mousepad I have at home is shifting the tides ... in any event, I needed to make some adjustments. I could see the trends happening by watching the Dexcom screen, so I knew this was more than just a fluke thing. (The Log Book confirmed my suspicions. Who'd have thought that logging could be useful!) The Dexcom was hollering at me in the morning - BEEEEEEEEEP!ing to the point where my coworkers noticed.
"Yeah. Frigging beeping. I have diabetes."
Laughter. "Oh yeah."
So on Monday morning, after another frustrating BEEEEEEEP! confirmed by a meter check showing me at 267 mg/dl (thank you, glucose goblins), I tinkered around with the patterns in my pump. I dialed up another .2 u for my mornings, hoping to stave off the highs.
Yesterday morning, I woke up at 6 am with bricks hanging from any firing synapses in my brain. The Dexcom was BEEEEEEP!ing from the headboard of the bed (where it stays during the night so Chris can see it and hear it, too) and I woke slowly. Moving without thinking, I unzipped the meter case and went through the motions. 41 mg/dl. Fantastic. Seeing the number cut a few bricks loose, and I was able to shuffle off into the kitchen for juice. (Yes, there were reaction treaters in my bedside table. No, I didn't use them. Instead, I found myself in the kitchen with a huge knife, cutting a slice of a brownie from the container in the fridge. Sharp knife + Kerri when she's low + wee hours of the morning could = disaster, but thankfully no fingers were severed during the course of my low.)
Reaction treated, I went back to bed, crumbs still on my shirt. I rested my head against the pillow and the Dexcom howled at me once more, showing me the slow bell curve towards a low that had been happening for over an hour.
"No, I heard you. It's cool now. Leave me alone."
Chris stirred. "You're going off. You're beeping. Did you hear the beeping? You're low." Talking in his sleep, the poor guy. He's on autopilot, too.
"I treated. It's okay now."
It's a little research, a little trial-and-error, and a whopping dose of blind faith required for mucking with basals. Hopefully over the next few weeks, I can make slow adjustments to this basal crap and eliminate some of those frustrating highs. Even though I'm sleepless some nights due to the Dexcom, I'm grateful to be able to see those graphs and lines and make adjustments to my insulin doses accordingly.
If only it could keep me from juggling knives while I'm low. I think I need a whole separate alarm for that.