Some mornings you just can’t friggin get things right.
4:50 a.m. The alarm will go off in 10 minutes, but my bladder wants me to get up now. Living in the desert means it’s always dry and drinking lots of water before bed was not a good idea if I wanted to sleep past 4:50 a.m. I want to sleep for another 20ish minutes. Actually, I want to sleep for another three hours.
5:22 a.m. Get up. Again. Brush teeth, get dressed for walk, feel remarkably good about being up and looking forward to walk.
5:35 a.m. Shocked that after being 159 before bed (without a correction) my fasting is 78. Briefly consider going back to bed, but decide that since I’m up and feeling good about a walk that I’m going. Choke down a NutriGrain bar and two sips of milk while putting my shoes on. Decide that’s good for the long-term, but afraid of going too low before the NutriGrain hits my blood stream. Grab a small handful of Runts as I walk out the door. Yuck!
5:45 a.m. The walk is going good and I’m grateful that despite the heat during the day it’s still cool in the mornings. My calves start to feel intensely crampy and I realize that I must have pushed myself too hard the day before. I push on hoping that the cramping will go away. No luck; I have to slow down earlier than usual.
6:11 a.m. I walk inside and The Mr. and No. 1 are already downstairs. No. 1’s teeth hurt from the temporary dental spacer (read: rubberbands between his teeth) he had inserted on Wednesday. I grab some Tylenol for him as I sit down to get a post-walk blood sugar.
6:17 a.m. Wasn’t expecting to see 144. Really thought the walk would have me in the low 100s. I really thought I’d continue to drop throughout the morning (mistake!) since I had a super good walk. I’ve been going high after my walks, but I assumed that it was because I disconnect my pump pretty soon after my walk so I can shower. I don’t know what I was thinking this morning. I didn’t bolus for the NutriGrain or the Runts nor correct the 144. And still thought I’d go lower than 144. *sigh*
7:23 a.m. After a shower and getting ready for work, I’m downstairs ready to check my sugar so I can eat breakfast. I think my meter’s broken when I see 219. “What the… effff!” I scream.
No. 1 is taking the trash out and is now concerned. “What’s the matter? What is it? Is it 200?”
I’m OK, I tell him, don’t worry about it. I look at The Mr. and mumble “stupid diabetes.”
“Yeah, I call shenanigans on diabetes, too,” he says.
