I've always been pretty fit. I ran track and cross country all throughout high school and I stayed active in college. I've never been lazy (at least that's what I tell myself) and my health has always been extremely important to me.
I was diagnosed with diabetes when I was 18 years old. For the most part, I've done everything I can to keep my numbers under control. I went through a period of utter hatred for this disease and myself for having it and the world was lucky if I checked my blood once a day, but it was a short period. Maybe two months.
For four years, I've been figuring out ways to keep my numbers in check as well as still being able to do what I love without diabetes interfering. But here's the thing. DIABETES IS AN INTERFERENCE. Yes, I can absolutely have a cupcake even though I have diabetes. No, I can not do so without bolusing for this little piece of shit every single time. See, I can do everything that people without diabetes can do, but I'm always thinking about diabetes in the process.
When I was 20, I had a terrible time with dawn phenomenon. My basal rates for the hours of midnight until 8am were 3.65 units an hour. Believe me when I say it was TERRIBLE. But I discovered that running the night before made me wake up on the lower side of the 80 range. We slowly lowered my basal rates until it was all "normal" again. And for 2, almost 3, years I have been taking a 1 mile run every night.
Not the worst thing in the world, right? Keep reading. Lately, no matter what I do or eat or think about, I can not get rid of these midnight highs. About three weeks ago was when I noticed that I needed help. I woke up at 6am and my blood sugar was 200 and something. For breakfast I had a bowl of air and water and bolused 5 units for it. Why? Because I was pissed off and sick of diabetes. I went for a run before work. At 8 am, 355. I told my boss I was sick. I left work. Went for another run and bolused 5 units for another bowl of air + correction for the 355, 9 units in total. I took a nap after my run and at noon I was three hundred and something stupid. I went for another run because I knew that running brought my blood sugars down and if I just kept running eventually they would just land safely. Wrong.
I have been working closely with my therapist and my endo to try and get my numbers under better control. I've gone through a shit load of insulin in the past month or two and it is doing its fair share of damage to my mind, my pockets, and my parents pockets. But in the mean time, I'm struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, I'm struggling to see that I'm even in a tunnel. Is this what I'm going to deal with for the rest of my life? Raggedy highs? I can't tell you how thankful I am after seeing a 50 on my meter. There have been a couple of days where all the numbers that I see are pleasing, and I'm grateful for that. And all the rest of the days?
Well, I'll just keep telling myself that no matter how many runs I take in a day...no matter how much I think I'll run away from diabetes...I'll still see a 200 or a 300 or a 400 and I need to bolus and move on. I've seen far too many nights where I've ran so many times in one day that I literally can't feel my feet and I'm so out of breath and exhausted that I just want to sleep on my kitchen floor. It's cold and comfy there, ya know?
Seriously, I'm learning to appreciate mental health. It's a serious deal. Diabetes is tough but diabetics are tougher.
And I'm movin' on.