Sunday was quite the day. My sugars were below 50 all day until about 12am Monday morning. It was a mess.
Had to call into work because I work by myself and really, I couldn’t even drive – safely.
Diabetes is never easy. Rarely behaves. And is always a pain in the ass to have.
Not that there’s a day where diabetes isn’t around. But days like Sunday are the scary ones. My family has no idea what to do if I drop too high or too low. You can’t drive anywhere. Sometimes you don’t know you’re too low. I had juice – didn’t help. What happens when you do everything you can to the best of your ability and it still doesn’t “work”?
Typically I am a very controlled and thoughtful individual. I don’t cry, don’t get overexcited, think about every action before it’s taken…very even-keeled. When I have low sugars I am the complete opposite. It is such an uncomfortable state to begin with, but with the added bonus of emotions running wildly, I don’t even know how to handle myself.
The next day I discussed my lows with my mother, whose response was perhaps I was cured. My answer to her was a potentially needed basal rate adjustment was needed. She doesn’t even know what a basal rate is…but that’s a whole other story.
Thankfully I have mostly recovered. I am still waking up around 55, but I don’t really want to tweak anything without the doctor’s help. My schedule should be returning to a semi-normal one pretty soon as my last graveyard shift was Sunday night…the one I called into.
When I named this post, I totally had in mind that song “down, down, down, down, down.” Know which one I’m talking about? No? I don’t know the words, other than “down,” don’t know the title and I certainly don’t know the artist. But that’s who was in my head at the time.
Well, it’s off to work with me!