Malaise

I have to step out of the past for a day so my immune system can catch up.  You see, I've been having some issue with my blood sugars not being on track for the past week or so, and problems with lows since...well, for over a year.  I know there's the "dawn phenomena" which usually deals with why diabetics wake up with highs, but me, I usually wake up, either in the middle of the night, or morning with a low.

The last two or three times I saw my endocrinologist she suggested a specific kind of fasting glucose test.  One that involves me waking up every 2-3 hours in the middle of the night and not having a snack before bed, or eating until lunch time the next day.  My husband knew about this when I did, but still, neither of us were looking forward to it, in fact, we put it off as long as possible.
Then I had two lows yesterday, one that involved an inordinate amount of orange juice and graham crackers with peanut butter, the next, chocolate ice cream (I will say in my defense, yes, chocolate is not a good option for bring up your sugar, but ice cream on the other hand has sugar and lactose, so even with the chocolate, you're covered).

Now you'd think a low was a diabetics dream, you get to eat the foods you're generally supposed to limit, but no.  The feeling of the low definitely outweighs the joy of such foods.  For me at least, I'm weak to the point that movement isn't much of an option, lest I make the low worse (movement= exercise, exercise= lowers blood sugar).  There's also cold sweats and crazy hunger, irritability, dizziness, and shakiness, and trust me, I get all of them, together, at once.  When I first learned about lows (or as it is more scientifically known, hypoglycemia), I was taught the 15 in 15 rule, which states, 15 carbs every 15 minutes.  When you're first aware of the low, you're supposed to ingest 15 carbs, wait 15 minutes, then test again, if you're still low, you repeat.  I don't recall how well I did with this when I was younger, but I've come to the conclusion that my body has realized "Oh hey!  Orange juice!  You'll make me feel better! *glug glug*" and the glugging is definitely more than 15 carbs, plus there's the crazy hunger, which usually leads to crackers or some other carb laden starch, sometimes even candy.  I seek out whatever will make the feeling go away, and I usually wind up eating/drinking it, until it does.  What can I say, I'm not very patient and I have had the joy of waking up out of unconscious stupors caused by lows more than once and I'd rather not experience it again.

Oops, I sidetracked...aside from long term complications, I've experienced most of the bad parts of diabetes, mostly due to my own lack of knowledge, stupidity or just plain obstinacy,  so I'm of the mind that when there's something wrong, I will do what I can to fix it, sometimes with minimal doctor interference.
Last night, I finally started the testing and set myself up for every 3 hours instead of 2.

Apparently, this blood sugar roller coaster meant I was getting sick, and waking up every 3 hours in the middle of the night did not help my immune system any.  I'm now stuffy with a bad headache and praying it's just allergies.  I still plan to do another night of this so my doctor has the information she needs, but if I don't post for a few days, it wasn't allergies :P.

Poking myself.

While in the hospital, I was told that my release was dependent on one thing, learning to give myself shots.  I've always been a bit squeamish of needles, even now, I still can't watch them go into skin, unless it's my own.  Knowing your life is dependent on it kind of changes things a bit.
Learning to inject yourself with insulin takes some attention to detail, but after doing it for 16 years, it's become a second nature, so when trying to teach someone else, like my husband how to do it, I find myself frustrated if he doesn't get it right away, now I know how the doctor and nurses felt.

First, depending on the type of insulin you have, you may have to roll the bottle in between your hands, especially if it's a mix. (At the time, I was on Humilin 50/50, guess what kind of mix that is :P)

Next, you have to pull back an equal amount of air as the dosage of insulin you need to take into the syringe and put the air into the insulin bottle (trust me, this is imperative when you get down to the bottom of the bottle and the thing is so devoid of air that rather than allowing you to take insulin out, it becomes a vacuum).  After you get the air in, you can pull out the correct dosage and be ready to inject.

Here's the fun part: Since you have a finite dosage needed, you can't really practice on yourself.  You know what they give you to practice on?  An orange, because that resembles human skin and tissue.  I'm sure they've come up with something better in years following my diagnosis, but at the time, I got to jab a citrus fruit with a 30 gauge needle.

One of the things I remember because of how badly it frightened me, was what I liked to call "Diabetic scare tactics".  I remember the threat, that if I didn't take care of my diabetes, my foot, or leg would have to be cut off, or I'd go blind, or I'd need a new kidney.  Yes, I know, these are real threats, but as a child who just found out they're going to have to poke themselves with a needle and squeeze blood out of their fingers several times a day for the rest of their lives, I think you've got enough to deal with.
I don't think it's something they should hide from you, but the emphasis was just too much.  I remember if I wanted something with more than a normal amount of sugar in it, or if I forgot to test, that was the threat "Do you want to lose your leg/foot/go blind?"

Diabetics are human too.  I've learned even after 16 years, you're still going to have troubles with your blood sugar.  I have days where I try my damnedest to stay under control and nothing works.  It's not always my fault.  There are countless things that affect your blood sugar aside from, well, sugar.  Even the slightest amount of stress can throw you up above your normal range, I'm definitely living proof, just the other day I was upset, I tested and sure enough, I was above 200.

Another common misconception I'd like to dispel, and will bring up again as it is one of the main points I'd like to get across in this blog.  We CAN eat sugar.  We can have candy bars, cake, cookies and in some cases, even regular soda (16 years on diet coke has caused an aversion to this last one for me anyhow).
This doesn't mean you're a new diabetic and you can still go out and get that twix bar on your break.  What this means is that as part of a balanced diet, one we should actually all follow, not just diabetics, sugar can be integrated.  Back when I first started, I was actually put on a weight watchers diet.  At 80 lbs on a 5 foot frame, would seem a surprise and I'm not advocating weight watchers, but it was a diet incorporating all 5 food groups at moderate amounts.  That's really all it takes, moderation.

Why is the apple juice all gone?

Let me preface this with the fact that I am not looking for sympathy, this is not a sob story.  It's my account of growing up and through Type 1 diabetes and some of the adventures along the way.  Should you feel inclined, you can donate to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation or American Diabetes Association.

Sometime in my childhood, I went from this:

to this:

I'm the blonde one feeding my face in the right hand corner.

In the summer of 1995, I went from the chubby little thing you see above to dropping 25 lbs with an appetite for apple juice that could fill a kiddie pool. I looked something like this:

Mind you, I'm 22 in this picture and it will get used again in a later blog to explain the lack of weight, but I was, to say the least, a stick.  My mother assumed it was puberty, but something about my discomfort in everyday life and the fact that I'd sneak into her bathroom 2 or 3 times in the middle of the night and drink water from the faucet just didn't seem right.  Once school started, things got worse.  

There was one week in September I will not soon forget, I went to school on a Monday, could not control my emotions to the point that I cried myself into a nurse's pass through homeroom and wound up going home, then staying there the next day.  Same thing happened Wednesday, I stayed home Thursday.  When the scene replayed itself on Friday, the nurse suggested I see my doctor.

I don't remember what made Dr. Gross (yes, my pediatrician's name was Dr. Gross) think "this sounds like diabetes!", but most of my behaviors over the past month or so must've been mentioned, because he took a blood test, mind you, without me having to drink the disgusting liquid and came back with positive results.  I vividly remember asking the doctor if I could have "one last donut", knowing there was a Dunkin Donuts on the way home and thinking this was the death sentence of my childhood and affinity for sugar, he obliged, but requested I go easy on the toppings.  My mother, the kind hearted woman she is, allowed the white frosted with sprinkles donut that had always been my favorite.

At 11, I didn't really understand the gravity of the situation, I don't think most children of Type 1 do until you're thrown into it all with the swarm of doctor's and medical supplies you are put in charge of.

I don't remember my Endocrinologist's name, I just remember I couldn't really understand a word he said, except for one sentence.  At my first appointment with him, he tested my blood sugar, when the reading came back as 565, his response was "She have to go to hospital, right away!"

St Therese Medical Center is where my education began.  I spent a week there and I remember most of the images shown to me so I'd understand just what happened to my body and how important it was for me to take care of everything meticulously.

My favorite was how insulin acted as a doorman to the cells.  It opened the door to the cell to allow glucose in to give you energy.  This isn't the same picture they used for me, but you get the idea:

I don't recall much of the other educational materials, except for one, the pink panther.  I was given a thick book thinking this was to be my diabetes bible and reference guide.  Nothing says serious autoimmune disease like a pink cat.

Next up...what would've kept me from leaving the hospital, diabetic scare tactics and my long, tumultuous relationship with Sweet N Low.