Angry (Diabetes) Bird.
I don't generally get mad at diabetes. Unnerved by a really aggressive low blood sugar that hits in the middle of the night? Yes. Scared of how diabetes-related complications may affect my future? Absolutely. Inconvenienced by all the hardware people with type 1 diabetes are trotting around with in efforts to rein in this disease? Yessir.
But mad? I don't often get mad at it. I find that to be counter-intuitive. As much as I don't consider diabetes to be a defining quality of my personality, it's definitely part of the package, so being mad at it makes me feel like I'm fired up at myself. Not the healthiest mindset for me, anyway.
But holy shit, was I mad at it yesterday.
The day prior, I was on the road (technically, I was on the track, heading to NJ by train for a meeting), and my blood sugars were a steady bad dream. Not exactly a nightmare, but up in the 190 - 220 mg/dL range and just HOLDING there, regardless of my correction boluses, low-carb meals, and my gentle pleading. ("Can you just come down like 45 points, you jerkface?")
That whole afternoon, and evening, was spent watching the Dexcom graph holding this frustratingly steady line above 200 mg/dL. My numbers were impenetrable to boluses, injections, etc. I tried to blamed travel, or exhaustion. Whatever - I'd be fine in the morning, right? That night, I went to bed with a fair amount of insulin on board, the Dexcom in a glass by the bed, and my alarm set in anticipation of the low blood sugar I was sure was coming.
Only it never came. And I woke up at 221 mg/dL.
I spent the day at home yesterday, trying to bring my blood sugar down. Changed out the infusion set on my insulin pump. Swapped out the bottle of insulin I was using for a fresh bottle. Exercised on the stupid ellipmachine for an entire episode of Glee (don't judge - I wish I hated the show but I don't ... yet). Drank lots of water. Ate less-than-carby things like eggs and tea and green beans. Blah, blah, blah.
But I stayed high all freaking day. And for the first time in a really long time, I was mad. Being at an elevated number for over 24 hours had my head pounding and my legs feeling like they were saddled with brick-laid shoes. I didn't feel energetic. I had a hard time keeping up with the happy play schedule of my daughter. I didn't want to be chatty with my husband. I was pissed that this streak of highs was so hard to break, even though I was doing a lot of the "right" things. I was angry at diabetes for derailing two full days, without a break. Diabetes and I don't normally have a contentious relationship, but I could have put the whole mess through a meat grinder yesterday. (Or made it stick a fork in a plugged-in toaster ... not that I haven't thought about that for it before.)
I wanted to go upstairs, get into bed, and sleep until I was back in range because it was clear that my efforts to fix the numbers were falling flat.
Some days, I look at my blood sugars and I know why they're where they are. I know when exercise causes a low. I know when alcohol influences one, too. I know when I've miscalculated carbs by accident or eaten more than I originally bolused for. But there are days when I look at the numbers and just throw my hands in the air (waving them, like I just don't care) and say, "Screw it."
This morning, with the same infusion set and I:C ratios and basal rates and insulin as the day before, I woke up at 121 mg/dL. Much, much better. But how?
Diabetes, you are a fickle one.