I spent a fair chunk of last night ploughing through some uni work. I finished up at around 9pm, brushed my teeth, put on my pyjamas and sat down to catch up on the last episode of Australian Survivor. My eyes kept wandering to the clock on the DVD player, which was edging closer to 9.30pm, while my brain kept reminding me of my early start in the morning and my desire to maintain this post holiday feeling of zen. At around the 10 minute mark, sleep won out over Survivor as I switched off and headed to bed.

I feel as though I’ve been chasing my tail for days when it comes to my blood sugar levels. Nothing awfully high, but still a feeling of not quite being able to curb those highs as effectively as usual. I had woken up at around 9.7 yesterday, and was unable to catch my tail for the majority of the day.

As I climbed into bed last night, I noticed that my Libre trend was slowly but surely creeping up again. Just to settle my paranoia, I pricked my finger, which registered at 10.4. I gave a 2 unit correction. Not feeling confident that this would be enough to bring me down, I also set a temporary basal rate of 120%. I so badly didn’t want a repeat of that morning.

I lay there in bed, but couldn’t will myself to go to sleep while my mind wandered indecisively over what I should do. It was in that moment, at about a quarter to ten on a Wednesday night, that I registered that my levels hadn’t been co-operating quite right since I returned home from Sydney on Friday.

It’s not the first time that I’ve thrown away travel insulin, convinced that it’s somehow spoiled in-between flights and hotel rooms and days out in the sun. But I always just thought it was pure paranoia.

I always carry my insulin with me when I fly. It normally sits in my satchel, which sits on the ground underneath the seat in front me during the five hour flight across the country. I had already replaced my cartridge a day earlier with a fresh one from my travel stash, with no noticeable difference.

So, I heaved myself out of bed, pulled a fresh cartridge of insulin out of the bar fridge, and begrudgingly replaced the cartridge on my pump, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to sleep while my mind was plagued with diabetes paranoia.

Today hasn’t been perfect, but my insulin is definitely working a lot better and those Libre lines aren’t slowly creeping upwards out of habit.

Diabetes. The sixth sense that I didn’t know I had.


  1. Becky

    I feel that as a parent of a 13 year old who has T1D, my mind is constantly ticking over “why?” “what’s going on now?” “could it be…?”
    During the winter holidays a year ago, we went camping here in Tassie. It was cold, no doubt, and there was a heavy frost overnight. But it wasn’t until the next set change a day after we got back that things started going pear-shaped, BGLs running high, creeping high after boluses. After going through my list of “what could be causing this?”– could it be that he’s catching a cold, stress of being back at school, a bad set site, etc, I finally decided on bad insulin. The spare insulin had been in the backpack, which was in the alcove of the tent overnight, but not actually in the tent. I think the insulin must have gotten too cold.
    Changed insulin. BGLs back in range.

  2. Rick Phillips

    Frank, insulin is so expensive in the US that we use every last drop we can. But, when I travel, regardless of how much or little, I toss the remainder of the vial. If I put it in the suitcase, I toss it. I have learned the hard way that travel equals bad insulin upon return. Tossing is the better part of being smart in my opinion.

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