A wicked little tickle in the back of my throat.
No fever, but checking it ten times a day to make sure still no fever.
A massive headache.
Blood sugars stuck around 130 – 180 mg/dL but not too spikey.
My anxiety is pretty damn peaky these days, and the aggressive flu season isn’t helping take it down a notch. So last night, when I started feeling kind of gross, we quarantined me into the extra bedroom and I spent the evening there, panicking.
Because there’s a certain vulnerability that diabetes adds to my world, making me worry on top of the baseline worry. I worry about my kids (one almost 8, the other 18 months) and their little selves battling back against some kind of virus. I worry about my body’s own ability to weather a viral storm. Worry, worry, worry.
My worry is rooted in fear, but we battle back with hope. Hope of not getting sick, or of best managing any illness that takes hold.
Everyone gets a flu shot in my house. Like back in October, before flu season goes bananas. We wash hands and wipe down toys like bosses. We encourage our son not to lick everything, but that’s a WIP. And this morning, first thing, I was at my primary care doctor’s office to be checked and screened for the flu (there’s this in-office, quick turnaround time flu test where they shove a Q-tip into your … brain, it feels like, and they can take that swab and determine if you have the flu).
Today’s verdict? Thankfully, not the flu. Doctor determined a cold was on tap and the cause of my sore-ish throat and headache. Running a temp basal of 120% to take the edge off these mildly high blood sugars. And drinking water and peppermint tea to maintain good hydration. It’s a self-care festival here in Sparlingville.
Stay healthy out there, friends. <3