Running makes me....better?

I've never really had many mental heath issues. I mean, as a kid I struggled with big feet problems. My feet were bigger than all the other kids' feet and everybody knew it. But I was a kid. So really, that wasn't even a huge problem. Sure I got sad and dealt with my emotions the best way I knew how which always ended being okay. I was okay.

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.

Happy Diaversary

Okay so June 1st was my diaversary and I completely forgot. May 31st was my brother's wedding so I was super busy with all kinds of, I don't know, wedding stuff. I probably checked my blood sugar twice that day. I'm a bad diabetic. Whatever, sue me. I got home around 1 am and I literally passed out within five minutes. But let's get to June 1st.

I woke up at 8 and had breakfast with my mom. We went to see a play that my god son was in at noon then parted ways. I took my god son bowling because he "just needs to go bowling right now." He's 5. Yes, 5.While we were at the bowling alley, I met another diabetic. She was 16 and had just been diagnosed with type 1 three weeks ago. She was there with her younger brother who was 6 so we let them bowl together but separately if that makes any sense. They had a competition to see who could get the most "numbers" at the end of the game. While they played, we talked. She expressed that she was scared and that she hated needles. She had been checking her blood sugar regularly like the doctor told her to and logging her numbers. Her a1c at diagnosis was 14 point something. So I explained to her that diabetes is hard and never gets easier but it gets better. You get used to it. I told her that I was still scared to go to the doctor and that the 5 second count down on the meter seems like an eternity. But I wanted her to know that she can do this! I told her to go to the You Can Do This Project and to think about becoming a part of the DOC. I gave her the web address to my blog. I reminded her that she is never alone. I gave her my phone number and email address and told her to feel free to contact me if she ever doubted herself or if she had any questions regarding anything diabetes. I don't normally give out my personal information to strangers but it felt right. She needed a friend, a diabetic friend. I felt like I should be that for her. So I did it. We hugged. I reminded her that everything would be okay and to stay strong. And with that, my god son and I left the bowling alley. He asked if he could sleep over and I couldn't resist bonding time with my favorite little kid. We went out to dinner and back to my house for a Spongebob marathon. It was the perfect day.

The next morning I drove him home before I went to work and I went on with my normal routine.

Fast forward to today. June 9th. I realized that I had missed my diaversary. I looked at my calendar and thought back on the things I did that day. And I smiled. I had no idea that I met another diabetic on the same day I was diagnosed but I was glad I did. I was able to help out a fellow diabetic that was in the exact same position I was in 4 years ago. That day was also a good day blood sugar wise. I stayed within my target range and I didn't battle with any nasty lows, although I woke up with a 69.

Seriously, how awesome is that?! Today I was reminded why I should never give up and that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Diabetes does not always leave you alone and in the darkness. You find people that are just like you and you remember to smile. I know I'm smiling right now. I'm glad I met that young lady. I hope she finds her way and reaches out if she ever needs help.

Here's to four years of diabetes!

Just a little bit

"Recently various petitions have been circulating the Diabetes Online Community, so today let’s pretend to write our own. Tell us who you would write the petition to – a person, an organization, even an object (animate or inanimate) - get creative!! What are you trying to change and what have you experienced that makes you want this change?"

This is day 2 of Diabetes Blog Week. I am supposed to be petitioning.

My petition: I want diabetes to listen to the loved ones of diabetics and then have a change of heart. I want diabetes to totally understand that it's exhausting and a hassle to deal with even for people that don't have diabetes that care for diabetics/Type 3's. So I had my mom write a letter to diabetes asking it to leave us alone. Have I ever mentioned that my mom is awesome? Because she is. And so she writes.

Hey there, diabetes! 
I'm sure you know me very well. You've been with my daughter for almost 4 years now. You're sort of like a stalker. You never go away. I want to eliminate you from her life but I know you aren't willing to do that. That's okay, I'm reasonable. Can we compromise? Could you just leave her alone for a bit? Give her a few days free of your shackles. You came to her as a senior in high school. She was about to graduate. Her future was so bright and you stopped her in her tracks. Oh but make no mistake, her future is still bright. I just watched her, my youngest child, graduate from college. Yet and still, I see her struggle. Like I said, you came to her right before she left for college. To be exact, 2 months before college. As a mother, I would do anything to make sure all three of my children are safe and happy. So you can understand why I was so uptight about diabetes and where her numbers were at all times. I woke up in the middle of the night to check her sugar. I know that she was 18 but I wanted to be assured that she was okay while she slept. I didn't want her to worry. I know she did anyway but it made me feel better. Was I obsessive? Absolutely. But who wouldn't be? Oh yeah, I only did this for 2 months. After that, she had to leave for school. I felt helpless. I could do nothing to help her because she was far away, learning to experience the world on her own. I'm proud of her. Do you know how much stress you cause? Were you aware that 7 months after her diagnosis she had a seizure because her blood sugar was dangerously low? Did you forget that 1 month after that first seizure DKA hit her like a ton of bricks? She spent 4 days in the hospital. We didn't forget any of this. It lives with me, with my child. Along with the constant worry that comes with the math and carb counting and insulin and whatever, my daughter has long periods of depression because of you. I applaud her for her hard work. She never quits trying. Anyway, she deals with you and your antics. I'm just asking you to give her a short break. I'm asking you to leave her alone for 5 weeks or 5 days or 5 hours or 5 minutes. I want her to live to her fullest without dragging you around. Please, for me and all the other family and friends of diabetics, go away. Do this especially for my daughter. She needs peace of mind for some time. So tell me, diabetes. Would you be willing to break up with my child just for a little bit? I'm begging you.

Love, Momma D

So there's my petition. Give me a break because Momma D said so.

P.S. I realize it is technically Wednesday. Don't judge. :)

Listen to me, please.

I'm participating in Diabetes Blog Week! This Is today's topic:

"Often our health care team only sees us for about 15 minutes several times a year, and they might not have a sense of what our lives are really like. Today, let’s pretend our medical team is reading our blogs. What do you wish they could see about your and/or your loved one's daily life with diabetes? On the other hand, what do you hope they don't see?"

If my medical team read this post I'd say this...

Listen to me, please. I am so grateful for you and all of your staff. You guys are very helpful when it comes to me make decisions that I have a hard time making. Listen, you make having diabetes somewhat easier to live with. I want you to know that I am trying my very best. I'm not perfect but then again, is anyone? I want you to know that I breathe diabetes. I think about diabetes when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. There are not very many things that I do without factoring diabetes into the question. Listen to me. When my blood sugar is high, I get angry. I never want you to be disappointed in me. Goodness, I'm deathly afraid of disappointing you. I want to share with you that there aren't very many things that would ever make me change endos. Our 15 minutes together. THEY ARE CRUCIAL. I listen to you for fifteen minutes and I replay your words in my head for the next 3 months. I am always hopeful that you have something to praise me for. I just want your approval. I don't need it, but it sure does help me get through the days until I see you again. 

Oh, but listen to me please. There are things that I don't want to share with you. I don't want you to know how much I stress. You'd think I was crazy. But I'm not...entirely. I'm sane. I promise. But if only you knew how much I try to make myself believe that my A1C doesn't matter. Really, don't listen to this part. I'm sharing but you should know that I don't want you to know this. I don't want you to know that I leave my sensor on until its absolutely inaccurate. I hope you never find out that if I KNOW that I'm low, I won't check until I think the number is safe. Again, I want you to praise me. But what I want you to know the most is...I really hope you know that I'm putting in so much effort.

Saturday's Shenanigans

Friday night was site change night and I forgot. Are you wondering how I forgot to do something that I do twice a week? Well guess what; so am I. Anyway, here's the story.

Saturday morning I woke up checked my blood sugar-131-fixed myself some breakfast and checked my blood sugar again, 206. My breakfast was 47g of carbs. For me, that is 10.4 units of insulin. 9.4 units for my breakfast and 1 unit for my blood sugar. I used my bolus wizard, pressed act a few time and started eating. I felt my pump vibrate but I didn't bother to look at it because I assumed it was the vibration letting me know that my insulin was delivered and I should enjoy my meal. 

This is not where the story ends.

I knew Saturday would be a busy day and I'm not a fan of temporary basals so I ate an additional 15g of carbs without bolusing (which would be 3 units of insulin) to make sure I stayed a bit on the high side at least for the morning. 12 o'clock rolled around and I tested. A big "YOU STUPID IDIOT! HOW COULD YOU LET YOURSELF GET SO HIGH" popped up on the screen. In other words, one touch said "Warning HIGH GLUCOSE. ABOVE 600". I washed my hands, checked again, and then, 598. I pressed escape on my pump to see what number my sensor was showing and I got hit with a "NO DELIVERY". At that point, I wanted to just go ahead and put on my dunce cap. Out of the 10.4 units that I was supposed to get for my breakfast, I got 0.75 units of that. That wasn't even enough insulin to cover the 204 blood sugar. Millions of questions ran through my head.

How did I do something so stupid? Why wouldn't I check to make sure it delivered? Why on earth did I eat 15 extra carbs with a 204 blood sugar? Why is diabetes a bitch? Why didn't I change my site Friday night? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? 

Fast forward. I changed my site and battled with highs all day. By 7 pm I had a blood sugar of 99. I was golden. Until 8pm. I checked. 36. Please throw a brick at my head. Please do it. Right now. Please. But don't actually. That might hurt. Ugh.

I ate a snack and waited for my numbers to get back to at least 150. I set an alarm for 3 am and went to bed. I was exhausted. I couldn't fight diabetes anymore. I let it win last night. But today is Sunday. Its brighter day. I'm in control again. 

Peace.

Dearest Diabetes

*Warning: This post has some vulgar language though I tried to keep it to a minimum.*

I wrote a letter to diabetes the other day and decided to post it. Keep in mind this was on a good d-day. I was happy. This is my happiness.

Dearest diabetes,
You are such a little piece of shit. I love you and I hate you at the same time. You make my skin crawl. I wish I could give you away but I would never want someone else to have you. You play with my emotions. You make me vomit (literally) and sweat all in one day. I really hate you sometimes. But sometimes I love you. I love that I've gotten used to you. I love that I don't get sad every time I see a high number or a low number. You have taught me to appreciate the little things. Today when I woke up, I was 99. I was so happy. Thought I could be in some sort of commercial or advertisement for diabetes supplies. Oh, but I hate you. I hate you for breaking my sleep. EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. I know you don't make me get up but my paranoia makes me set alarms to make sure you aren't being a little bitch.  I greatly appreciate you teaching me to be more health conscious. I like to run now. But maybe sometimes I run too much. I run away my anger and fears and I keep going even when I'm too tired and I'm almost about to vomit and my legs give out. I never quit. See, you taught me that. You taught me to never quit. And I won't ever quit. Even if it becomes borderline disorderly. I can say no to that slice of pizza now. But not because I want to. It's because I'm afraid of what it'll do to my blood sugar. And I'm afraid of what my blood sugar will do to my body...and what my body will do to my life expectancy. But before you, I didn't really care about my body or my life expectancy. It's a funny thing, diabetes. You try to bring me down sometimes but I won't let you. Not for too long, anyway. Yesterday, my endo said he was proud of me. He told me not to be upset that my A1C had gone up because I had eliminated a lot of the lows he was worried about. He hugged me. He said diabetes is hard but I'm kicking its ass. DID YOU HEAR THAT, DIABETES?! He said I'm kicking your ass. So please, don't you ever think for a second that I'm not thinking of new ways to kick your ass. Operation no midnight highs is in full effect. Think you can stop me? Think again.
Much love,
Shannon

Warning: Positive Results Not Guarenteed

I have never had a problem discussing my diabetes with people that ask about it, but I've made it my business to let people know that I am not defined by numbers. You see, I've always tried my hardest to keep my numbers in range, as well as most diabetics. But sometimes diabetes doesn't play fair. My daily schedule goes something like this:

Wake up. Check blood sugar. Eat breakfast. Go to school. Check blood sugar. Check blood sugar. Eat lunch. Go to work. Check blood sugar. Check blood sugar. Work out. Check blood sugar. Watch TV.  Check blood sugar. Eat dinner. Check blood sugar. Do nothing. Check blood sugar. "Did I forget to check my blood sugar?" Check blood sugar.

Repeat.

Now I don't know about everyone else but most days for lunch I eat the same thing. However, no two days have given me the exact same results as the day before. Some days throw an extremely high number or an extremely low number at me, despite the fact that I did everything the same. You never know. Yesterday's numbers were 125, 205, 280, 83, 69, 105, 140, 92, 103. I shook it off. Went to bed. Woke up. And then this: 310,211,140, 96, 110, 123, 89, 101. Even though I was able to get my numbers down before lunch, I was still disappointed. Called diabetes stupid. Wondered what I did wrong. Sent this text to my best friend: "I'm so sick of crazy numbers. No matter how hard I try, something always goes wrong. Ugh! I feel like giving up." She responded: "Shannon, the first thing you ever told me about your diabetes is that those numbers don't define you. Giving up is not an option. You know that you tried your best. Tomorrow is a new day my sweet friend. Love u."

ISN'T SHE AWESOME?! AND SO, TOTALLY, RIGHT!

I have to keep reminding myself that these numbers don't define me. These numbers don't mean I'm not taking care of myself. These numbers are not a sign that I should quit. These numbers are just a warning sign that positive results are not guaranteed.

Note to diabetes: Bring it on!