Any day that sees a BGL of 32.4mmol/l is not going to be fun.
It happened around midday on Saturday. It came from nowhere. In range BGLs at waking. Trip to a new café for a breakfast of delicious coconut-y porridge and milky coffee. A quick trip into the city to buy a birthday present for one of the kid’s friends who was having a party that afternoon.
So far, so fun.
And then, suddenly, nausea hit.
At that point, I realised just what a bad diabetes day it was about to become. I’d changed handbags that morning and my BGL meter hadn’t made the transfer. I was CGM-less as well, so apart from the nausea and a slightly dry mouth, had no idea if I was high – or just how high I was.
Thankfully, we live less than a ten minute drive from the city. We got home, me holding the bag that had contained the present close by in case the feeling of nausea became the real deal.
We made it home. I checked my BGL. Oh yes, I was high. So, so, so high.
I calculated a bolus does of insulin and used a disposable syringe to jab it into my stomach. I changed out my cannula, line, cartridge and insulin, inspecting the old one I’d just removed. It looked absolutely fine. And I’m sure it was fine. I set a slightly elevated temp basal, resisting the urge to set it at 200% – effectively giving myself double the usual dose – and sternly told myself that I needed to let the bolus do its thing. Slow and steady was the way!
Then the vomiting started. Then it ended.
And then I fell asleep. And a couple of hours later, I awoke feeling fine. Well – as close to fine as one can be after a couple of hours of unexplained, very high BGLs and the muscle pain that comes from throwing up.
My BGLs returned to range gradually. The nausea was gone. The mild ketones I’d had earlier disappeared, flushed out with lots of water.
Not fun. At all. But I did what I planned to do that night, brushing off the looks of surprise from my friends when I mentioned the day I’d had. They probably wondered why I was up and out and not curled up in a ball under the doona. There were moments I wondered that too.
If I was to stop every time I had a diabetes thing happen, I’d never get up I thought, but didn’t say it out loud because it doesn’t really make sense to people who don’t have diabetes.
It’s what we do. We get on with things. Because diabetes throws so much our way that we just learn to accept it and push forward. We do it without much fanfare. But sometimes – sometimes – I kinda do feel like I deserve a medal. And yesterday I got one after I did the 5km in Run Melbourne!