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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "crash":

Having played roller hockey for many years now, I have acquired a lot of hours on my inline hockey skates. Well, after two rink closures this past year, I have had some gaps in my playing time. (READ MORE)

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Some days, my diabetes control is like a sleek, hot-pink BMX. It takes me for smooth, yet daring rides and lets me, in the words of Napoleon Dynamite "take it off some sweet jumps."
What's great is having several of those days in a row - as I've had lately. Only two or three bloodsugars out of range - and even those were mere blips - a 62, a 159... Nothing outrageous. That's when I start to get comfortable. I settle in for the ride, enjoy the air on those jumps. (READ MORE)

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In two weeks I have my next endo appointment scheduled and I am already nervous.

I am eating like it is going out of style and my increase of mass is proof positive! At work I am constantly munching on anything I can get my hands on and continue with it when I get home! I feel like I will never get back on track with Weight Watchers. I feel so far gone.

And because of all the poor food choices my blood sugars have paid the price. I keep running high all day to only crash in the middle of the night. I feel out of wack and completely out of control.

So now I have to face the music with my endocrinologist and frankly I don’t want to.

I want to ditch.

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It is dark. Black, really. There is no light anywhere. And there is no sound. There is nothing. Nothing but nothing.
This stunning blackness, this lack of light and sound, scares me concious. And I am in my bed. With an empty glass of juice in my hand. My right index finger slides, slimey, against the plastic cup, wet with blood.
Nothing makes sense. Bob's voice is the first thing I'm able to hear. "You need to test."
"I already tested," I answer, "Can't you see the blood?"
"You poked yourself, but you didn't test," He replies, "Come on, it's been about twenty minutes since you finished that juice."
"Was it bad?" I ask.
"Not as bad as it's been. You took the juice fine, no spitting, no screaming, no fighting. It was scary though, because you didn't say a word. It was like you were asleep with your eyes wide open." (READ MORE)

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I'm a zombie when I wake up to test Charlie late at night or in the dark early hours of morning. It's not such a good thing when you're handling your child's lifeline in such a state of fuzz.
A couple nights ago, Charlie's blood sugar was 330 when I checked him before I went to sleep at about 10:30 pm. Not wonderful, but fixable with a little beep-beep arrow-arrow beep-beep, like I'm playing 1977 Mattel electronic football. I clip the pump back on Charlie's Spiderman pajama waistband and crash to sleep; setting the alarm for midnight to make sure everything is cool. (READ MORE)

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"Are you going to eat what your wife made?"

 

It was loud. It was purposely loud to get everybody's attention. It was coming from an unexpected source. I was ready.

 

"If you mean the cake then, heck yes I am having some. Why?"

 

"Hello, you are diabetic!"

 

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I don't remember being diagnosed. I don't remember being scared or angry. I don't remember the first shots or finger pricks. I hear stories sometimes, but those are rarely mentioned. I imagine how my little four-year-old self might react to learning about diabetes, but come up short most of the time.

 

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After Olivia's run of high blood sugars over Christmas, I decided yesterday (the 26th) to give her a temporary basal rate. I think the combination of all the extra food around plus not being in school and being active is what's sent her blood sugars thru the roof. Well, that and not testing. That probably didn't help either. (Boy, do I need an eye rolling smiley right about now.)

I'm hoping that I wasn't too aggressive with the increases in her basal rates. She was getting 37.4 basal units per day and now she's up to 41.3. It's not a huge increase, but I do get worried when I make these changes.
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(Note: This entry is from several weeks ago,)
I hit a major snag with my blood sugar control in the last few weeks. My blood sugar started going up, up, up. And my insulin doses followed. At 28 weeks pregnant, I knew this was to be expected, but I didn't quite know what to do about it.
Really weird things started happening. Like feeling low 15 minutes after eating lunch and testing to find my blood sugar dropped 20 to 30 points after eating. But having just eaten, I would ride it out on the couch for a while until it started to come up. (I am so grateful to have the luxury of working from home!)
Wouldn't you know it, at the two-hour mark, it was higher than it should be (my doctor set my goals at 120 two-hours after meals, with a note not to worry if its 130). Concerned but not consumed with worry, I'd test again an hour later and find it was yet higher. Another hour later, higher still. (READ MORE)

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I started out at 192. I did a correction bolus and a carb bolus. The carb bolus was for four slices of pizza. I used the square bolus over 3 hours, hoping that I wouldn't end up too high.

 

I ate my pizza slices, enjoying every bite. By the time I finished eating, I had about two hours left on my square bolus. That should be perfect, I thought.

 

An hour later, I was 87. I still had almost half the insulin to deliver, so I suspended the bolus and drank a juice. I planned to check my blood sugar again within the next two hours to watch for the peak, then bolus the remaining insulin.

 

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