The other day, Michelle posted about censoring her blog to not upset her mother sometimes. I realize I do this too, but not for the same reason. I tend to censor my writing out of superstition. I'm like one of those people who mouth the word cancer. When things are going good for me, I know if I blog about it, things will quickly turn around.
Last week, I chose to not look over my shoulder (or toss salt over it) and jump up and down with glee over my new pump. I was so excited about it, and how much easier it made my diabetes control.
I should know better than to speak up when things are going good. I should have whispered instead. I even knocked wood to fend off the fates, but I guess they heard me over all that banging.
This week, things got more complicated. First, I forgot to reconnect the tubing after my shower over the weekend, resulting in an afternoon-long high. Then today, I've been fighting lows all day.
I know, I know. I had the nerve to announce I hadn't been under 70 once since getting the pump. Yesterday, I found myself at 63 before dinner. Today things got even worse.
I had a small breakfast, with just enough insulin to barely cover the carbs. I got the boy dressed and into the stroller, and headed off for our morning walk. About 30 minutes into it, I was feeling low, so I tested my blood sugar and it was 90. That's not low at all, so I figured I was just pushing pretty hard and feeling it.
About 15 minutes later, I found myself about a mile from home, with a peacefully sleeping baby in the stroller, and a sudden overwhelming urge to cry. There was absolutely nothing wrong emotionally, I wasn't overcome with anything in particular, so I tested my blood sugar to find it was 57. I knew there was a reason I kept glucose tabs in the stroller at all times, even though, until now, I haven't needed to use them. (And might I add, the orange flavor aren't nearly as tasty as the grape.)
Things seem to have levelled off now, but then again, just typing that may mean another challenge is up ahead.
