For the last few days, I’ve been sick.  Sicker than I’ve been in several years – a man cold morphing into a respiratory infection with an agenda, evolving into nausea that rivaled all my morning sickness put together, crashing into having to visit the doctor and cancel a trip to California this week.  (For the record, I’ve never had to cancel a trip.  Ever, in my history of self-employment.  This was not my proudest moment, but it was necessary, as I was the walking dead and have only been recently upgraded to walking mostly-dead.)

For whatever reason, the “sick day rules” that the Joslin Clinic warned my parents and I about back in the day haven’t ever fully applied to my diabetes.  I don’t often see ketones, or highs for hours, or need a 200% bump in my basal rate.  It’s weird; I just don’t get sick in that “affects my diabetes” way very often.

But this round was a bit different.  Aside from being decidedly real people sick, my diabetes took a nosedive in response.  I had ketones that required major insulin and hydration to kick out.  My blood sugar went stupid high for a decent clip and then spent the night in the trenches, coming up only after three juice boxes and two bananas.  (Two bananas!)

It was that thin, red line of hypoglycemia that really freaked me out, as I was having trouble keeping food down, so treating the lows became tricky.  In the beginning of this pregnancy, I had serious nausea for many weeks, and every first trimester-influence low blood sugar was very difficult to properly manage because eating something was a big NO THANK YOU.  This round of illness revisited that theme, leaving me low for hours and having a hard time effectively treating it.  (Thank you again, Tandem, for a pump with a quick-to-set temporary basal rate.  Saved my hypo ass.)  It’s a weird line to walk, not over-treating a low, and even weirder to not feel capable of treating it at all.

But relief is in sight.  This morning did not require anti-nausea tea.  My fever has broken.  I have no voice to speak of (or with), but at least that dulls my complaining down to a husky whisper.  And best of all, my blood sugars have stopped being illness-induced jerkfaces and are back to standard second trimester circus-ry.

Small victories.

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