Funny thing, stress. It’s a sneaky little bugger.
Despite the fact that I’m doing my best to continue on with business as usual, good ol’ diabetes has reared its ugly head. Instead of lying quietly and letting me mourn, stress has chosen this time to join the fray and make me grumpy.
Feeling a little too crummy to eat? Don’t worry. Stress levels will keep my bloodsugars cruising neatly around 250 mg/dl, making my stomach ache with loss and hunger and hyperglycemia, all at the same time. How much insulin does it take to cover a bowl of oatmeal? On any other day, three units, but these past few days, it takes about five units coursing through me to keep me under 200 mg/dl. Mind too busy to sleep? Good. Stay up all night, end up tangled in the blankets, and only acheive REM once, or so it seems. My eyes close and then all of a sudden the alarm is nagging me, causing me to unsnuggle from the bed and wander towards the shower. Morning sugars are fine but they immediately become chaotic once I am awake for an hour or so.
I changed my pump set this morning and have been enjoying a sticky 307 mg/dl for the last 45 minutes, climbing from the 202 mg/dl I was at 10 o’clock this morning. I am waiting to see if this bolus starts to bring me down (thus making the site valid) or if it will require a rip and reset. My eyes feel like they’re tethered by extra tendons, aching every time I move them. And my skin feels tight and dry, despite the water I’m trying to chug. I’m like a miserable lizard. I’m liz-rible. Which makes me laugh to think about but at the same time, it’s contributing to an already-elevated stress level.
Maybe hitting the gym will help. Or reading the new Jennifer Weiner book I picked up this weekend. (Hey Julia, have you read this one? It’s shaping up to be pretty good so far.) I realize that this is what happens when you lose someone you love and the daily bits of stress seem magnified as a result. And I know this stress will pass. But while it’s here, I’m not enjoying it.