rakka

In the hours after Charlie eats pizza, I can't help like feeling as if diabetes is stringing us along. Like it has set the bait and is waiting for us to take it.

When Charlie's blood sugar is 90 (as it was recently) five hours after eating pizza, I'd like to believe that we're out of the woods, but I can't. I can see the smirky face of diabetes grinning and hoping that I take the bait and pump Charlie up with some more carbs only to get burnt from the pizza in the sixth or seventh hour. It's a game of chicken. It takes much patience and many test strips.

At times like this I feel like Vizzini from the movie The Princess Bride, engaging diabetes in a "battle of wits." (READ MORE)

SeetYing

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.

  (READ MORE)

www.alondon.net

I wish a pizza party could be just that. A party with pizza. For a parent of a child with diabetes, it's no party at all. It's a highly strategic military operation.

Charlie went to a birthday party on Sunday where the kids made their own pizza. I would have preferred a make-your-own grilled halibut with asparagus party. But it was not to be. (READ MORE)