Stay within the lines, the lines are your friend… Screw that, says diabetes…
Our lines are between 70 and 150. We try to beat diabetes into submission by forcing BG to fit between the two lines. Now, this range is rather arbitrary. 70 is fairly standard, as that’s usually the bottom normal for people without diabetes. Some people with diabetes actually feel pretty lousy in the 70’s, so they may shoot for a higher bottom target. V feels excellent in the 70’s, so unless she’s going down or running around/being active, we are perfectly happy there. 150 is a total crapshoot. People with functioning pancreases hardly ever get BG above 120, and that’s usually after consuming a massive amount of carbs. For us, getting through a day without going over 150 is almost unprecedented. It usually happens when V has some sort of GI upset, which makes her run low. So that’s not anything to celebrate or be proud of.
But rarely, very rarely, magic happens. (Full disclosure: we are going to pretend a little here, because at 11:30 V actually dropped below 70. However, my day ended at 11 and, after I snapped the photo below, I fell soundly asleep as soon as I hit the pillow. I did not even hear Dexcom alarm. Hubs got up to handle V’s BG while I blissfully slept through it all.) So, for all I care, March 19th was a perfect day with V’s BG staying within the lines.
Within goal: 100%
When your kid has T1D, sometimes you stay up way past your bedtime because she’s low, and low again, and low still. Even after glucose tabs, followed by cutting the insulin, followed by gatorade, followed by cutting more insulin. And you know you’ll write about it in the morning, wishing you could give a better explanation as to why. Or any explanation, for that matter. Because who the hell knows why? And while you think about all of it you check your Starbucks balance because you know you’ll need something with an extra shot or two in the morning. And maybe in the afternoon too. And then you sit down and write a nasty-gram…errr… a polite but strongly worded letter to school officials who are thinking it’s a good idea to save some $ and replace school nurse with a health tech. You think about Flint, Michigan, but decided it’s too dramatic and drastic of a metaphor. You proofread multiple times because you don’t want the letter to read as a nasty-gram. You forget to make kids’ school lunches because you are all upset about the school nurse situation, Dexcom is blaring alarms every 15 minutes, and your brain is fried. You wonder how far Dexom will fly if you throw it. Then you remember how grateful you are to have this helpful technology, so you continue to love-hate it without physical violence. You think about laying down on your kid’s bed to rest but you can’t because the laundry is piled up high on her bed. And she is sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag because of the laundry pile on her bed. You kind of laugh because it’s funny and absurd, and walk out of her room, only to come back two minutes later to silence Dexcom, again. After checking BG for the umpteenth time, you pump your fist when it’s 87. And you finally go to bed, way past your bedtime, wondering if a rebound high alarm will wake you up in the middle of the night, and you dream cruise ship wreck and coffee dreams. And when you wake up in the morning and write this, you’ve completely run out of f***s to check for spelling errors, so there may be some in this post. Don’t judge, OK?