I wanted to write a whole "one day" narrative to illustrate how Sarah's day with diabetes went, but I'm so tired after a pretty rough weekend of crazy bg's that I can only remember the highlights. So just think on this.
Sarah pierced her skin with a sharp metal object 15 times today, intentionally.
I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually enjoy that; I know I don't. She bolused for a Frappiccino at Starbucks which should have made her bloodsugar high, but instead she dropped to 78, then 61, then 59.
I laugh (somewhat maniacally) whenever someone asks me if we've got her diabetes under control, if we're managing it. Diabetes is like a rattlesnake, only the rattle is silent. And it's in your bedroom. It blends with the carpet so well you never see it but you know it's there, just waiting for you to step in the wrong spot or turn your back.
Tonight I completely expected to be dealing with highs, after a birthday party including the evil cake. But instead I'm venting my thoughts while I wait to check that the bg of 74 I caught 10 minutes ago is coming up. It's been over three years and diabetes still throws me a lot of curveballs.
And yes, they're fanged and venomous
Control is a myth, a daydream, a fleeting moment when all seems right.
It's 11:44pm, and I'm doing my best to stand in for a lazy pancreas. And my best is all I can do.