Diabetes, stop messing with me!!

One of the most frustrating things about diabetes is that you never know what to expect.  Monday I spiked before I ate dinner, only to land squarely at 99 by bedtime despite some cheesecake for dessert.  And Tuesday?  Tuesday evening was even more confusing.

Pete and I had our ballroom lesson and then stopped at Panera for dinner.  Aside from liking Panera's soups, salads and sandwiches, I also love that their carb counts are readily available.  I easily tallied up the carbs in my dinner and bolused.

A few hours later, I was playing around on the computer and felt a little low.  My CGM showed me heading down towards the 70s.  I knew I should test, but instead I just ate a big spoonful of peanut butter and a Dove Promise.  About 20 minutes later my low alarm went off.  I was starting to get that cloudy feeling in my brain and I was suddenly very sweaty.  I couldn't remember where my meter was.  I called for Pete, who brought it in from the kitchen and waited while I tested.  39 flashed on the screen and Pete ran for a juice box, which I quickly downed.  I knew the 13g of carbs might not be enough, so Pete brought my favorite treatment for a very-low low . . . a spoonful of chocolate frosting.

After finishing that, I started to have that overwhelming urge to keep eating.  I went to the kitchen and got another spoonful of frosting.  Then I devoured one of those fruit strips Kerri turned me on to.  A strawberry one.  I wanted a grape one too but Pete was adamant that I had eaten plenty and I needed to stop.  So I waited until he went upstairs and snuck one, quietly wolfing it down before he returned.  Yes, I am five years old!

Fifteen minutes later I tested again and was 68.  I got washed up for bed and did one last finger-stick . . . 83.  I debated taking a unit or two of insulin because I knew I had over-treated.  Pete talked me into letting it go and this time I listened to him.  We knew my CGM would alarm me of the impending high and I could just correct then.

Sure enough, at 3 a.m., the shrill of the CGM woke me.  I looked at the screen to see just how high I was . . . and was shocked to see it reporting a 68.  "This thing is not working." I said out loud to no one, since Pete was sound asleep.  I did a finger-stick to see how far off it was.  Turns out, it was only off by one point.  My blood sugar was 69.  "What the ^@%$*#." I said to K.C, who had come to investigate.  She stared blankly back at me - partly because she has yet to understand the intricacies of diabetes.  And partly because at 3 a.m. all she is interested in is a scoop of kibble or a scratch underneath her chin.

I thought about eating a few carbs, but I decided against it.  I've been waking up consistently around 100 every morning and I know that by 3 a.m. I start to rise a bit.  So I went back to sleep.  Three hours later, my fasting blood sugar was 58.

I just don't understand.  I ate a big spoonful of peanut butter, a Dove Promise, a Motts Tot's juice box, two big spoons of chocolate frosting, a strawberry FruitaBü and a grape FruitaBü.  And according to my CGM graph, I never went higher than 107.  Yet Monday I had salad and an apple for lunch and soared into the 200s.

Diabetes, stop messing with me!!!