One evening last week, I was in bayside St Kilda and I looked up, expecting to hear screams. But Luna Park was dark and closed for the night. The rollercoaster was still.

How I wish I could close down the rollercoaster of diabetes – even for just one night.

After the deliciously weird hypo I had early Sunday morning, I thought that I’d bought a bit of time off the rollercoaster. It wasn’t to be.

I woke early Monday morning, this time feeling revoltingly high. I jumped up and made it to the bathroom in time to throw up. My BGLs were in the mid-20s and I had mild ketones. Where the hell had that come from? I was perfectly fine when I went to sleep around 11pm.

I had done a set change yesterday afternoon and wondered if that could be the culprit. Not wanting to wait around to see if the correction dose I was about to bolus would work, I ripped out the site and sure enough, a nasty kink in the end of the cannula. That thing wasn’t delivering anything.

I inserted a new line, bolused, set a temporary basal rate and drank a litre of water.

By the morning when my alarm went off, my BGL was a far more respectable 8mmol/l and the ketones had all but disappeared.

I got ready for work and felt like my whole body was wrapped in cottonwool. I felt fuzzy and everything sounded a little muffled. It took until midday (and three cups of coffee) to stop feeling that I was listening to everything in a tunnel.

Two consecutive nights on the diabetes rollercoaster equals exhaustion. And frustration. And feeling overwhelmed.

Last night, I climbed into bed quite early and fell asleep pretty much straight away. And slept through. The rollercoaster was indeed closed last night.

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