Thursday Night, Diabetes Style

When I last visited my diabetes educator in February, I brought my meter along in order to show her my numbers. I was stepping outside of my comfort zone. I was essentially exposing myself, and all of my highs and my lows. I wouldn’t be able to choose what I would share with her. I wouldn’t be able to summarise. It was a big step for me, but one that I felt ready to do.

Unfortunately, the focus seemed to be more on what I hadn’t done – logging my insulin doses into the meter. I apologised, and promised that I would send through two weeks worth of meter reports before my pump day, so that she would be able to work out insulin ratios and settings.

It was a simple task, yet one that has been weighing heavily on my mind for weeks.

Every time I have attempted to make a start, something gets in the way. In March, I got sick and was rage bolussing stubborn highs like crazy. A week later, Easter rolled around and I was eating more than I should have. I took some holidays, and the numbers didn’t reflect my regular routine. But most of the time, I’ve just been telling myself that the numbers aren’t perfect enough to send through.

I can probably guess what a healthcare professional might think. Lazy, slack, non-compliant (insert your favourite word here). But when diabetes already takes up so much of my time and energy, a simple task like stopping to log my insulin doses is a big deal. It’s hard to carry the same meter around with me, rather than rely on the others that are stashed in convenient places. It’s hard to stop and punch in the insulin dose, when all I really want to do is sit down and eat.

But I knew that I was going to honour my promise. I knew that I wasn’t going to lie.

Come Thursday night, I generated 14 days worth of Insulinx meter data on my computer and printed it out. I took a seat at my desk for what would be somewhat of a long night.

I went backwards, day by day, reflecting on the past two weeks of my diabetes life. Recalling exactly where I was, and what I was doing on that particular day. Thinking about what I’d had for dinner that night. Remembering the circumstances surrounding that stupid low, that stubborn high, or that victorious overnight result. It took me a few hours. It was a little confronting, staring at those numbers on paper and being reminded of where I had gone wrong.

I attached a note to my meter reports, apologising to my diabetes educator for not directly logging the insulin doses into the meter. I explained that I had thoroughly gone through my last two weeks, and provided what I believe to be a very comprehensive overview. I wrote notes about my typical day. A work day, where I was on my feet, moving around and lifting things. Night times, where I was often chasing post bedtime highs from things like Pasta, Fat and Protein foods. Insulin to carb ratios, correction ratios and Lantus doses.

I carefully folded my paperwork, placed it into an envelope and stuck an express stamp onto it.

As I placed my letter into the Post Box on Friday afternoon, that big weight that had been sitting on my shoulders for weeks was finally gone.

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