Diabetes is hard. Communicating my needs to non-Diabetic is even harder.
I've been sick all week...
Not a little cold, or a minor illness. It's been some sort of fucking evil strand of I might kill you and there's nothing you can do about it. For four mornings straight, my meter has been waving at me. I'm supposed to eat with my insulin, but when it doesn't register on the meter which means it's over 600, I won't eat. I know it's bad, but I don't feel comfortable eating until it's down to the 100s. Also, it saves me from going to the hospital.
But the thing that gets to me is the stupid old puerto rican biddy that gave me this nasty ass illness of death, decided to stop taking her meds. Why? Because Muscinex was bringing too much stuff up. Mum told her how I can't be near her and my madrina until she gets better. She told them that this illness has the potential to take my life. She told them I've been having problems stabilizing my blood sugar and the high and lows are doing a number on my system.
Yet, the old biddy was like, no I don't want to take it. Mum told her that she probably got it from the plane trip and the old biddy says I gave it to her via ear candling. Finally, Mum takes her to a clinic, who confirms that she did get the illness from the plane and the muscinex was the best thing for her and to continue to take it.
I guess I wouldn't be so pissed if this wasn't the first time she and my madrina have come into town. I guess I wouldn't be so mad if I thought they would visit us again, but I know they won't. I guess I wouldn't be so livid if this damn illness didn't take a week out of my life. I recently quit my job, I'm looking for a new one and what happens...I lose my voice for a damn week. What does that mean, it means I can't call places, I can't walk in an inquire about positions. A week, gone because of the old womans weak immune system.
And she doesn't even give a shit about her health. And if she doesnt' care about her own health, she sure as hell doesn't give a rat's ass about mine. Everytime I go over there, I am risking my life to see them. RISKING MY LIFE. And do they care, no. Do they understand, probably not. I already have a weak immune system, anything can take me down.
Oh but, all the over the counter meds Mum tries to give her is making her worse. Well, woman your 78 years old and if you don't know it by now, shit has to get worse before you start getting better. If you are coughing up an arm and a leg it's good because the nasty stuff is getting out of your system and killing the germs. That's the point of medication.
She goes to the clinic and all of a sudden she's overembellishing, exagerrating everything.
"Oh my god, I have a fever."
"Oh my god, I am cold. I have chills."
She wasn't complaining about a fever or chills or even coughing before she got to the clinic.
And this is how I look at it.....SO let me get this straight. She was sick, you gave her meds, she started feeling better, but then too much mucus and phelm was coming up and she couldn't deal with it so she quit taking her meds, then she claims that the ear candling got her sick because there is no way the plane ride over here did her in since there was no one sick on the plane, then she exagerrates symptoms she doesn't even have.....this is what I call old lady pay attention to me syndrome.
The woman probably didn't even want to come visit, got sick and saw it as a way to get away with doing nothing and dampering the trip at the same time.
Then my madrina complains about how she can't take her mother anywhere because she always get sick. Well, that's what happens when you're 78 and on a plane for longer than 5 hours.
Ahhhh.......so frustrating.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
sick = hell
I'm sick, again. Frustration.....
So new rule in my life. If you are from out of town and visiting and you don't have a strong immune system, don't expect to see me at all. Why? Because you will get sick and me being around you for oh, I don't know, 2 hours, will get me sick.
If you are coughing, don't expect to see me.
If you don't feel good, don't expect to see me.
I throat is sore, I hardly have a voice, I can barely swallow, my ears hurt, there's nothing but pressure in my head that is driving me crazy, I'm coughing, I'm blowing my nose like crazy, it sucks.
This isn't a cold like the last two times, this is like the mother of all colds. The I'm going to beat you into submission and you're going to like it colds.
And I hate this feeling. March was bad enough with Mum and Ronnie getting me sick within a week of each other.
And how did I get sick when we are practically in bloody July and I live in the south so you know it's heat stoke the minute you walk outside hot? Glad you asked. My mom's friend/my madrina and her mother came into town for the first time ever and her mother got sick. Then I was stupid and not knowing she had been coughing that day, spent roughly 3 hours in a car with her and pretty much al day with her. when you're diabetic and trapped in a car with someone coughing, you're going to get sick. It's inevitable. Your immune system is already compromised due to the diabetes. Had I known she was coughing, I would have been like, no go without me. I'll see you later.
What does this mean? It means I can't hang out with them for the rest of thier visit. Which is overly frustrating.
This is why the new rule is now in place.
This is the second time someone from out of town has gotten me sick. And I can't take cold medicine to rectify this situation. Sure there are diabetic cold medicines, but when I wake up with my blood sugar 460 and my husband gives me this I'm really worried about you look before he goes off to work and I'm on a strict text every hour, test every two hour, and I'm scared to eat until my blood sugar is in the 100s, I'm not risking finding out the reaction of the cold meds. I'm not interested in seeing if it will cause a spike in either direction.
Stupid diabetes. Stupid people getting me sick. A cough. One cough and that's all it takes. And then specific measures have to be taken. I have to test every 1 - 2 hours. If Bryan is at work I must text every hour on the hour. If I miss a text, then I'm DKAing. I am not allowed to sleep at all until Bryan comes home just to make sure the blood sugar doesn't plummet. I can't eat until I'm in the low 100s. If my blood sugar does not go under 240 in four hours I have to go to the hospital. If I have diahrrea twice in a four hour period, I have to go to the hospital.
See what a pain in the ass it is to get me sick. So frustrating.
So new rule in my life. If you are from out of town and visiting and you don't have a strong immune system, don't expect to see me at all. Why? Because you will get sick and me being around you for oh, I don't know, 2 hours, will get me sick.
If you are coughing, don't expect to see me.
If you don't feel good, don't expect to see me.
I throat is sore, I hardly have a voice, I can barely swallow, my ears hurt, there's nothing but pressure in my head that is driving me crazy, I'm coughing, I'm blowing my nose like crazy, it sucks.
This isn't a cold like the last two times, this is like the mother of all colds. The I'm going to beat you into submission and you're going to like it colds.
And I hate this feeling. March was bad enough with Mum and Ronnie getting me sick within a week of each other.
And how did I get sick when we are practically in bloody July and I live in the south so you know it's heat stoke the minute you walk outside hot? Glad you asked. My mom's friend/my madrina and her mother came into town for the first time ever and her mother got sick. Then I was stupid and not knowing she had been coughing that day, spent roughly 3 hours in a car with her and pretty much al day with her. when you're diabetic and trapped in a car with someone coughing, you're going to get sick. It's inevitable. Your immune system is already compromised due to the diabetes. Had I known she was coughing, I would have been like, no go without me. I'll see you later.
What does this mean? It means I can't hang out with them for the rest of thier visit. Which is overly frustrating.
This is why the new rule is now in place.
This is the second time someone from out of town has gotten me sick. And I can't take cold medicine to rectify this situation. Sure there are diabetic cold medicines, but when I wake up with my blood sugar 460 and my husband gives me this I'm really worried about you look before he goes off to work and I'm on a strict text every hour, test every two hour, and I'm scared to eat until my blood sugar is in the 100s, I'm not risking finding out the reaction of the cold meds. I'm not interested in seeing if it will cause a spike in either direction.
Stupid diabetes. Stupid people getting me sick. A cough. One cough and that's all it takes. And then specific measures have to be taken. I have to test every 1 - 2 hours. If Bryan is at work I must text every hour on the hour. If I miss a text, then I'm DKAing. I am not allowed to sleep at all until Bryan comes home just to make sure the blood sugar doesn't plummet. I can't eat until I'm in the low 100s. If my blood sugar does not go under 240 in four hours I have to go to the hospital. If I have diahrrea twice in a four hour period, I have to go to the hospital.
See what a pain in the ass it is to get me sick. So frustrating.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
I can never nap again?!?!?!?!
I can't nap anymore.
I want to nap, I love my naps, but my diabetes won't let me take a siesta in the middle of the day anymore.
Originally Bryan and I thoght it meant I just can't go back to sleep after taking my morning insulin. Then we found out it meant I can't return to bed after doing a massage. Now it means I can't nap at all anytime during the day.
Why?
My stupid blood sugar plummets. I wake up and boom low blood sugar. I don't know why this happens. I can't even formulate a reason as to why this could possibly happen. I'm pretty sure napping would cause a spike, which means low blood sugar may be the aftereffects of the spike coming down when I wake up. But I find it hard to believe that waking up from a 2 hour nap would cause this. I wake up and depending on how long I've been asleep I range from 31-78.
It makes no sense. At least to me, it doesn't. When you sleep you have awful spikes. The purpose of the long acting insulin is to stop these spikes from occuring. If I'm taking 20 units of long acting during the day, then these little potholes should not be occuring during napping.
However, I tend to sleep when I'm stress, so maybe the release of stress through sleep causes my blood sugar to plummet.
Either way, no more naps for Michelle. Sadness. First you try to kill me Diabetes, now you take my naptime. Grrr....
I want to nap, I love my naps, but my diabetes won't let me take a siesta in the middle of the day anymore.
Originally Bryan and I thoght it meant I just can't go back to sleep after taking my morning insulin. Then we found out it meant I can't return to bed after doing a massage. Now it means I can't nap at all anytime during the day.
Why?
My stupid blood sugar plummets. I wake up and boom low blood sugar. I don't know why this happens. I can't even formulate a reason as to why this could possibly happen. I'm pretty sure napping would cause a spike, which means low blood sugar may be the aftereffects of the spike coming down when I wake up. But I find it hard to believe that waking up from a 2 hour nap would cause this. I wake up and depending on how long I've been asleep I range from 31-78.
It makes no sense. At least to me, it doesn't. When you sleep you have awful spikes. The purpose of the long acting insulin is to stop these spikes from occuring. If I'm taking 20 units of long acting during the day, then these little potholes should not be occuring during napping.
However, I tend to sleep when I'm stress, so maybe the release of stress through sleep causes my blood sugar to plummet.
Either way, no more naps for Michelle. Sadness. First you try to kill me Diabetes, now you take my naptime. Grrr....
Saturday, June 9, 2012
The goal of everyday.....sweet spots.
I hate Diabetes. I hate everything about diabetes. I hate having it, I hate insulin, I hate buying insulin, I hate going to the pharmacy, I hate test strips, I hate syringes, I hate lancets, I hate low blood sugar, I hate shaking, I hate being anxious, I hate numbers, I hate air bubbles, I hate food, I hate the smell of sugar, I hate high blood sugar, I hate turning into the hulk, I hate pressure, I hate....ok so there's a lot of things I hate.
But you know what I love.
What I absolutely adore.?
What I dedicate my whole entire life looking for....
That one sweet spot.
What's a sweet spot? Glad you asked. It's a spot on your body where you inject and feel nothing. No pain as the needle pierces through two layers of skin to get to the layer of fat. No feeling of pressure as you plunge the insulin into your body and it spreads itself amoung the fat. No pain as you take the needle out. And no weird cone look on your skin as the insulin fills in the pocket.
Nothing. Nada. Nine.
It's an amazing feeling. Stabbing yourself and feeling no pain. It's the goal everytime you shoot up. That wonderful, amazing, beautiful sweet spot. And when you find it, nothing can ruin your day...until the next mealtime. But still, for those however many hours, you're happy and feel like you can take on anything the world throws at you. It's major.
Usually when I find the sweet spot, it reminds me that this chronic illness that likes to play with death isn't so bad. I don't hate it quite as much. It doesn't control me, I control it. And most importantly it makes me giddy. That's how important that sweet spot is to me. And if it happens in the morning I always think, "Today is going to be a good day."
So that's what I search for, everyday. That sweet spot. It's sort of my body saying, "Hey, I'm sorry I kinda you know, killed the pancreas, but everything is going to be a-okay."
It's really those simple things after all.
But you know what I love.
What I absolutely adore.?
What I dedicate my whole entire life looking for....
That one sweet spot.
What's a sweet spot? Glad you asked. It's a spot on your body where you inject and feel nothing. No pain as the needle pierces through two layers of skin to get to the layer of fat. No feeling of pressure as you plunge the insulin into your body and it spreads itself amoung the fat. No pain as you take the needle out. And no weird cone look on your skin as the insulin fills in the pocket.
Nothing. Nada. Nine.
It's an amazing feeling. Stabbing yourself and feeling no pain. It's the goal everytime you shoot up. That wonderful, amazing, beautiful sweet spot. And when you find it, nothing can ruin your day...until the next mealtime. But still, for those however many hours, you're happy and feel like you can take on anything the world throws at you. It's major.
Usually when I find the sweet spot, it reminds me that this chronic illness that likes to play with death isn't so bad. I don't hate it quite as much. It doesn't control me, I control it. And most importantly it makes me giddy. That's how important that sweet spot is to me. And if it happens in the morning I always think, "Today is going to be a good day."
So that's what I search for, everyday. That sweet spot. It's sort of my body saying, "Hey, I'm sorry I kinda you know, killed the pancreas, but everything is going to be a-okay."
It's really those simple things after all.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Pain free is the way to be
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.
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 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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