Yesterday, I won at diabetes.

My BGLs sat between 4 and 6 all day. Every time I pricked my finger to check, a beautiful number stared at me. My usual clumsiness was absent and my diabetes tasks were fluid and smooth. If I was in a movie, there would have been soft lighting, a very cool soundtrack and possibly glitter. Or fireworks. I love fireworks. And a unicorn. Yes, a unicorn.

But did I enjoy it? Not so much. Because I was incredibly suspicious of it all. I was waiting for the moment where things would turn. Or I refused to believe my BGL meter – I checked four times on three different meters at one point to prove that there was no way I could be sitting at 5.0mmol/l. I was – at least within a 0.2mmol/l margin.

I couldn’t relish the fact that I was feeling ‘even’. I couldn’t just say ‘this is a good diabetes day’.

But it was. When the day came to an end, and I scrolled through my meter readings, it was a good day, based on numbers.

Diabetes has a way of sucking the enjoyment out of life. Those days when we are low, low, low or high, high, high our energy is zapped and we feel just blah (technical, highly-scientific terminology there). But that kind of makes sense. Low blood sugar sends me into a fog. So does persistently high blood sugar. I feel crap. I worry about things. I hate diabetes.

It annoys me that on the days where I’m ‘just right’ and not feeling terrible I can’t (or don’t) just cruise along and feel great.

It was back to reality today. A lovely mid-teens number to wake up with reminded me that yesterday was certainly not typical. I’ve been chasing a low since then, and now, as I sit down to lunch, I’m sorting out my plan of attack to stop the yo-yoing. That right there? That’s the diabetes I’ve come to know and love expect.

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