I have no idea how it happened, but yesterday was a crummy day, diabetes-wise. Somehow, early in the evening, I heard the Dexcom singing from the kitchen countertop, and BSparl and I went over to investigate.
“High.” With a long line at the very top of the Dexcom screen.
“Hi to you, jerkface,” I said, pulling out my meter to see just what the greeting was about. And I saw a sticky 451 mg/dl blinking back at me.
“What the fern?” I couldn’t figure out how I ended up so high, especially since after lunch I was 174 mg/dl and flatlined on the Dex.
And I was so angry. How does this happen? Did I eat the wrong thing? Take a shallow bolus? Is the pump ferning with me? Could the insulin have spoiled? Did I just lose track of everything and my numbers went berserk on me?
I was beyond battling with variables. High as can be and sporting ketones? I wanted this fixed NOW. So BSparl and I went into the bathroom to do a full once-over. Brand-new pump infusion set, brand-new bottle of insulin, and I took an injection from a syringe instead of bolusing, to make sure I’d come down within a few hours.
I did a ketone check and confirmed my suspicions: small ketones. Oh, for crying out loud. I felt like I was in a battle against 100,000 variables, and all I had were these remedial tools with which to battle back.
A few hours later (and after a nap, and after skipping my workout, and after explaining to BSparl why her mommy keeps peeing on a stick), I was back down to 213 mg/dl and still falling. And when I woke up this morning, it appeared that I had fallen to about 90 mg/dl and held there all night long. Lucky save.
I am not a fan of these kinds of glitches on the battlefield against diabetes. (But I do love me some Photoshop. Because there’s something so fun about arming King Leonidas, and his mega-abs, with a syringe.)
*This blog post was originally published at Six Until Me.*