I've been complaining about the pain for about 5 months. This hospital go around is was smart, I told people I was in pain instead of keeping silent and trying to look strong. Last time I didn't feel pain until about two months after I got out of the hospital and then I didn't tell anyone how bad it was. There were days where my would shut down and I couldn't get out of bed. I learned my lesson.
It started with the right should spasm, then the feet and legs, and once I started working it was the whole body. I started with muscle relaxers and lately Tylenol PM has been a life saver.
Last night, I wasn't completely hunched over walking slowly towards the table to grab my Tylenol pm like I usually am. As the day wears on, usually my posture goes with it. On really bad days, I'll be out somewhere semi-hunched over. These are the days where Mum yells at me, 'Stand up straight' and I always reply, 'I can't!' But last night I wasn't in a lot pain, so I forgoed my usual night routine and hopped into bed. Bryan made a comment about it since usually I walk towards him like the hunch back of Notre Dame pill bottle in hand saying 'open' in my cutest little girl voice. I figured, hey I feel good, let's see if I can sleep this way and if I can, let's see how I fare the next day.
So I slept. Sort of. I woke up having to pee in the middle of the night for the first time in a long while.
And then I got up today, and guess what?!?!?!?!
NO PAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is a major breakthrough in my recovery. MAJOR. It's exciting. My legs are working fine and my feet hurt a little, but they're getting used to new muscle growth, and and....no pain.
Words cannot express how joyous I feel today. Hopefully by next month I will feel completely normal again. I have my days now where I feel like my old self but they are not as recurrent as I wish them to be.
Now, if only I could start reading again without getting a headache or being frustrated.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
I put my hand up on your hip, when you dip, I dip, we dip...
....blood sugar dips....
Oh Lord, those blood sugar dips....
No one warned me about this shit. No one.
What's a dip? It's when your blood sugar goes down a few 20 - 100 points all of a sudden and you stand up and it's like you can literally feel the earth's gravitational pull turning as you place your feet down and it takes you a few minutes to figure out who you are, where you are, and if you're okay. AKA, I look like a drunk sorority whoo girl stumbling around.
Usually I look at Bryan and say, I don't feel so good. Then I check my blood sugar and sure enough it's dipped a lot. So here I am, sitting where ever, usually on a floor if I can't find a sitting area, trying to regain balance and the ability to think words other than Oh shit, I'm going to fall, I am so going to fall, make it stop, make it stop. Rollercoasters, who needs one, when your body can create its own.
No on warned me about these dips. No one. There should be a manual out there, Type 1 Diabetes for Type 1 Diabetic Dummies, or Your Pancreas is Fried, Your Fucked, Here's What You Should be Warned About about this Evil Disease.
I hate the blood sugar dips. I really do. It always happens when I'm going from a sitting position to a standing position like a random case of Vertigo hitting me but the walls aren't spinning. It feels like I'm in that Crooked House at Black Gang Chine. And you wait it out by walking around patiently hoping equilibrium will come back. Will it, will it? What if it doesn't? But it does, and you go on your merry little way forgetting about it until it happens again. Slowly it becomes, oh Lord, here we go again.
finger pricks, insulin shots, blood sugar dips, and a state of dizziness. Fun.
Oh Lord, those blood sugar dips....
No one warned me about this shit. No one.
What's a dip? It's when your blood sugar goes down a few 20 - 100 points all of a sudden and you stand up and it's like you can literally feel the earth's gravitational pull turning as you place your feet down and it takes you a few minutes to figure out who you are, where you are, and if you're okay. AKA, I look like a drunk sorority whoo girl stumbling around.
Usually I look at Bryan and say, I don't feel so good. Then I check my blood sugar and sure enough it's dipped a lot. So here I am, sitting where ever, usually on a floor if I can't find a sitting area, trying to regain balance and the ability to think words other than Oh shit, I'm going to fall, I am so going to fall, make it stop, make it stop. Rollercoasters, who needs one, when your body can create its own.
No on warned me about these dips. No one. There should be a manual out there, Type 1 Diabetes for Type 1 Diabetic Dummies, or Your Pancreas is Fried, Your Fucked, Here's What You Should be Warned About about this Evil Disease.
I hate the blood sugar dips. I really do. It always happens when I'm going from a sitting position to a standing position like a random case of Vertigo hitting me but the walls aren't spinning. It feels like I'm in that Crooked House at Black Gang Chine. And you wait it out by walking around patiently hoping equilibrium will come back. Will it, will it? What if it doesn't? But it does, and you go on your merry little way forgetting about it until it happens again. Slowly it becomes, oh Lord, here we go again.
finger pricks, insulin shots, blood sugar dips, and a state of dizziness. Fun.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
wine + michelle = low blood sugar
I hadn't had a drop of wine in four months...until the wedding I was in two saturdays ago.
I had two glasses of wine and a glass of champagne. I was blitz. gone. plastered. Such a light weight compared to my younger non diabetic years.
Why did I drink after proudly being sober for 4 months? It was a celebration and I needed it.
Weddings stress me out. Especially when I'm in them. Oh and I'm in recovery mode and feel totally useless. Add the church rehearsal and wedding ceremony itself happening during my scheduled dinner time and I was freaking out. I had to change my insulin times for two days for this wedding. I was taking the night time at midnight instead of 10:30PM and my meal time at 7:30 to 8PM instead of 5- 6:30PM. Which means the timing of the morning insulin was off and that I had to remember to eat "lunch" and not a snack in between. It's stressful. A bother and the last thing I wanted to do was collapse while I was walking down this long aisle and screw up the wedding. I could see me go down, my mum screaming, as Bryan rushes to pick me up, and someone asking if anyone had candy or something sugary on them. It would have been a catastrophe.
As I walked down the aisle, I had a dip (I hate dips, but that too is for a different post) and couldn't stop shivering as I stood there watching one of best friends get married. I look hunched over in half the pics because two bouquets are really heavy (much to my surprise).
By the time I got to the reception, I already had decided I was going to drink. Not the hard stuff, just white wine. I tested my blood sugar when I got to the reception and it was at 128. I figured because of the menu, which Kelly was kind enough to tell me about the week before, and the fact that I wanted cake, I should go with 10 units instead of 8. We had salad with candied walnuts (lots of sugar), dried cranberries (even more sugar) with a champagne vinegarette (no clue about the dressing) and bread (I had two rolls = lots of carbs). The entree was breaded chicken with lump crab (breaded = extra carbs), asparagus, and potatoes (carbs). And then you had the wedding and groom cake (a shit ton of sugar). So it made sense in my head that I needed to do 10 units if I wanted to get away with eating all of that. I also viewed it as a nightmare of a dinner. The rehearsal dinner was better. A salad with tomatoes and Parmesan and a dressing that I can't remember what it was. There was bread with olive oil, Parmesan cheese and herbs. The entree was a NY strip steak (which I ate all of, a major feat. Bryan would be proud) sweet potato mash, corn, and broccoli. Dessert was bread pudding with Bourbon sauce (I can't say no to bread pudding, I really can't. I'm European, born in Louisiana and I'm from the south. If I didn't like it, there would be something wrong with me). The amount of protein I ate sort of balanced out dessert sparing me from high blood sugar. Maybe if the chicken was poached or grilled instead of breaded and there wasn't candied walnuts and dried cranberries in the salad, I wouldn't have been so frustrated. One of my friends at the wedding actually told me she was worried about me when she saw what we were eating. This is why functions scare me, especially when it's a set menu. I need options. Options. I would always go with the steak if I had options. Bryan even warned me about how sugary the cake was and not to overindulge. Honestly, the cake was nothing but sugar. I felt like I was eating spoonfuls of pure sugar. It was too much for me. Yes, there is such a thing as too much sugar for diabetics.
To make matters worse, I was at the head table since I was a bridesmaid which was right next to the cake. Do you know what happens when a diabetic can only smell sugar? We go crazy. All I wanted was the cake. It's all I could think about. I wanted to tear into it and eat all of it with my hands. Licking the sugary icing off my fingers and smacking my lips. That's all I wanted to do. So I ended up bouncing from the head table to the table where Mumika and Bryan were to the table with my friends to get away from the smell. Sugar, I swear it drives me crazy and it's the first thing I smell too. It's to the point where I can taste that sugary goodness.
So I ate, and slowly went through the wine and champagne.
Only problem is, I didn't factor in dancing. Exercise burns the sugar out of me (which I will blog about later).
So around 11:30, I am not feeling good. I think, ok, maybe I ate too much, drank too much, it must be high. As I walk towards my purse, I catch myself trying to navigate towards a wall. I look drunk, I act drunk, but I know I am not drunk. Blood sugar - 63.
Fuck.
Cake. I need cake. Bryan rushes over and pretty much decides we're leaving my car at the hotel and he'll be driving us home pronto. Well, as soon as I find cake.
I get cake and start eating it with my fingers because honestly, I don't know how much longer I'll have before it dips again. Kelly tries to eat some of the cake I got stating she barely got to try her own wedding cake and all I say is, "Blood sugar 63." "Eat, do we need to find you more cake."
I ended up getting a section and hand feeding her cause I felt bad.
Bryan gets me to the car after he administers his low blood sugar test which I fail miserably. I have to follow a pen with my eyes only. I kept moving my head. I look drunk, I act drunk, but in reality it's low blood sugar drunk. People that have low blood sugar tend to look drunk to an uninformed eye. Which is why I wasn't allowed to drive. I would swerve everywhere and a cop would pull me over. I've heard horror stories of diabetics being pulled over during these low blood sugar spells and the officer not believing they are having an episode of hypoglycemia despite the diabetic showing their insulin and diabetic monitor. They are forced to do a sobriety test (which they fail of course) and are taken to jail where they DKA. This happens even when the diabetic shows them their medical bracelet (which I still need to get).
We get home. I check my blood sugar again and we're at 113. Yay! I take my nighttime and make my way to bed.
For the next 3 days I'm combating low blood sugar. I can't complain. Alcohol can cause low blood sugar. Sure I hate seeing the numbers between 60 - 80, but I can eat more or take less insulin. I'm not saying I'm going to make it a regular habit. I still have to look after my kidneys. But at least now I know, I can have a glass of wine once in a blue moon.
See, normalcy, it's rare but it can still exist.
I had two glasses of wine and a glass of champagne. I was blitz. gone. plastered. Such a light weight compared to my younger non diabetic years.
Why did I drink after proudly being sober for 4 months? It was a celebration and I needed it.
Weddings stress me out. Especially when I'm in them. Oh and I'm in recovery mode and feel totally useless. Add the church rehearsal and wedding ceremony itself happening during my scheduled dinner time and I was freaking out. I had to change my insulin times for two days for this wedding. I was taking the night time at midnight instead of 10:30PM and my meal time at 7:30 to 8PM instead of 5- 6:30PM. Which means the timing of the morning insulin was off and that I had to remember to eat "lunch" and not a snack in between. It's stressful. A bother and the last thing I wanted to do was collapse while I was walking down this long aisle and screw up the wedding. I could see me go down, my mum screaming, as Bryan rushes to pick me up, and someone asking if anyone had candy or something sugary on them. It would have been a catastrophe.
As I walked down the aisle, I had a dip (I hate dips, but that too is for a different post) and couldn't stop shivering as I stood there watching one of best friends get married. I look hunched over in half the pics because two bouquets are really heavy (much to my surprise).
By the time I got to the reception, I already had decided I was going to drink. Not the hard stuff, just white wine. I tested my blood sugar when I got to the reception and it was at 128. I figured because of the menu, which Kelly was kind enough to tell me about the week before, and the fact that I wanted cake, I should go with 10 units instead of 8. We had salad with candied walnuts (lots of sugar), dried cranberries (even more sugar) with a champagne vinegarette (no clue about the dressing) and bread (I had two rolls = lots of carbs). The entree was breaded chicken with lump crab (breaded = extra carbs), asparagus, and potatoes (carbs). And then you had the wedding and groom cake (a shit ton of sugar). So it made sense in my head that I needed to do 10 units if I wanted to get away with eating all of that. I also viewed it as a nightmare of a dinner. The rehearsal dinner was better. A salad with tomatoes and Parmesan and a dressing that I can't remember what it was. There was bread with olive oil, Parmesan cheese and herbs. The entree was a NY strip steak (which I ate all of, a major feat. Bryan would be proud) sweet potato mash, corn, and broccoli. Dessert was bread pudding with Bourbon sauce (I can't say no to bread pudding, I really can't. I'm European, born in Louisiana and I'm from the south. If I didn't like it, there would be something wrong with me). The amount of protein I ate sort of balanced out dessert sparing me from high blood sugar. Maybe if the chicken was poached or grilled instead of breaded and there wasn't candied walnuts and dried cranberries in the salad, I wouldn't have been so frustrated. One of my friends at the wedding actually told me she was worried about me when she saw what we were eating. This is why functions scare me, especially when it's a set menu. I need options. Options. I would always go with the steak if I had options. Bryan even warned me about how sugary the cake was and not to overindulge. Honestly, the cake was nothing but sugar. I felt like I was eating spoonfuls of pure sugar. It was too much for me. Yes, there is such a thing as too much sugar for diabetics.
To make matters worse, I was at the head table since I was a bridesmaid which was right next to the cake. Do you know what happens when a diabetic can only smell sugar? We go crazy. All I wanted was the cake. It's all I could think about. I wanted to tear into it and eat all of it with my hands. Licking the sugary icing off my fingers and smacking my lips. That's all I wanted to do. So I ended up bouncing from the head table to the table where Mumika and Bryan were to the table with my friends to get away from the smell. Sugar, I swear it drives me crazy and it's the first thing I smell too. It's to the point where I can taste that sugary goodness.
So I ate, and slowly went through the wine and champagne.
Only problem is, I didn't factor in dancing. Exercise burns the sugar out of me (which I will blog about later).
So around 11:30, I am not feeling good. I think, ok, maybe I ate too much, drank too much, it must be high. As I walk towards my purse, I catch myself trying to navigate towards a wall. I look drunk, I act drunk, but I know I am not drunk. Blood sugar - 63.
Fuck.
Cake. I need cake. Bryan rushes over and pretty much decides we're leaving my car at the hotel and he'll be driving us home pronto. Well, as soon as I find cake.
I get cake and start eating it with my fingers because honestly, I don't know how much longer I'll have before it dips again. Kelly tries to eat some of the cake I got stating she barely got to try her own wedding cake and all I say is, "Blood sugar 63." "Eat, do we need to find you more cake."
I ended up getting a section and hand feeding her cause I felt bad.
Bryan gets me to the car after he administers his low blood sugar test which I fail miserably. I have to follow a pen with my eyes only. I kept moving my head. I look drunk, I act drunk, but in reality it's low blood sugar drunk. People that have low blood sugar tend to look drunk to an uninformed eye. Which is why I wasn't allowed to drive. I would swerve everywhere and a cop would pull me over. I've heard horror stories of diabetics being pulled over during these low blood sugar spells and the officer not believing they are having an episode of hypoglycemia despite the diabetic showing their insulin and diabetic monitor. They are forced to do a sobriety test (which they fail of course) and are taken to jail where they DKA. This happens even when the diabetic shows them their medical bracelet (which I still need to get).
We get home. I check my blood sugar again and we're at 113. Yay! I take my nighttime and make my way to bed.
For the next 3 days I'm combating low blood sugar. I can't complain. Alcohol can cause low blood sugar. Sure I hate seeing the numbers between 60 - 80, but I can eat more or take less insulin. I'm not saying I'm going to make it a regular habit. I still have to look after my kidneys. But at least now I know, I can have a glass of wine once in a blue moon.
See, normalcy, it's rare but it can still exist.
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