Author: Frank

“Type 1 Diabetes. Fasting.”

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In times gone by, I would have hauled myself out of bed on a cold Winter’s morning much earlier than my liking. Blood sugar permitting, I would have dressed and made my way out the door while it was still dark outside. I would have started my car, and made the two minute drive down the road to my local Pathology centre. Despite walking in thirty minutes before collections begin, the first number available to me would likely have been a 4 or a 5.

I would have taken a seat and rolled my eyes at the table of ancient, frayed magazines. I would have pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up Facebook. I would have checked the current temperature outside in my trusty Weatherzone app. I probably would have been distracted momentarily by the Sunrise Cash Cow on the TV in the waiting room. I would have returned to my phone, this time moving onto Twitter. I would likely have returned to the weather, refreshing to see if it were any warmer outside. Once again, the TV would likely grasp my attention at the sight of the weather man out and about doing something silly. Returning to my phone, I’d open up the next app.

By this point, I’d be bored out of my brains. My empty stomach would be growling like crazy. To add to the torture, the coffee bar that was thoughtfully placed in a waiting room of fasting patients, would have opened for the day. I’d watch on as people flocked to it in droves for their morning caffeine fix, and forcing their banter upon my poor ears. I’d be constantly looking at my watch, despite the time being right in front of me on my iPhone screen. I’d start taking note of how many people were in front of me. I’d start wondering if number 3 was in there, telling the nurse their whole life story while I was desperately wanting to get out of there and start my day.

Thankfully, today was not the case.

I stayed in my warm bed until an hour of my choosing. I got dressed, and walked out the door into brilliant grey daylight. I drove down to Pathology, walked in and made my way to the counter where I announced:

“I’m here for a blood test. I have type 1 diabetes and I’m fasting.”

This morning there were no frayed mags, no coffee bar torture, no endless scrolling through Facebook, no stomach rumbling and no eye rolling at the Sunrise weather man. I walked straight through, waited for the two patients already in the room, and had my bloods done straight away.

I probably fed the attendant’s misconceptions about a diabetic needing to constantly eat to regulate his blood sugars. I probably felt a tinge of guilt for the other poor souls sitting there in the waiting room. 

But those people also didn’t have a broken pancreas to deal with. They weren’t course correcting a lower-than-they’d-like blood sugar before bed. They didn’t have to force themselves up to check their blood sugar when they stirred in their sleep at 4am this morning. They weren’t left scratching their head over why their blood sugar had risen from 5.4 to 8.8 in a few hours, when normally it sits stable.

I played the diabetes card today, and I’m not going to feel guilty for it.

It’s The Little Things

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It’s the little things.

It’s about making it easy to travel prepared whenever I leave the house (hello, grey marle pencil case).

It’s remembering to set a temporary basal rate on the lousy days where I want to spontaneously binge on cookies and ice cream, so that I can cruise through a little more easily.

It’s mastering the art of how many Skittles I need to raise my blood sugar by just 1mmol, and not 5.

It’s using a bit of intuition and overriding the ezBG suggestion on my pump when I don’t think that my blood sugar is going to come down.

It’s setting a temporary basal rate if I’m going for a short walk around the block this afternoon.

It’s making a habit of weighing my food on the red scales that sit next to the fruit bowl in the kitchen.

It’s learning the difference between bolusing for a banana, and bolusing for a Woolworths White Choc Macadamia Cookie (let me tell you that’s one hell of a difference).

It’s being observant to the fact that my insulin sensitivity is completely different when my blood sugar is out of range.

It’s learning how to bolus for the protein content in a meal.

It’s checking my blood sugar 1 or 2 hours after a meal, so that I can correct a high or stop a low in its tracks.

It’s cottoning onto the fact that my blood sugars will begin soaring upon waking if I don’t get a decent night’s sleep.

It’s remembering to check for air bubbles in my pump line, when my blood sugars won’t seem to come down.

It’s patiently waiting for my blood sugar to come down, and not over reacting to numbers and trend arrows.

It’s writing notes in my diary to jog my memory next time I do the same activity or eat the same food.

It’s being kind to myself, because learning these little things means making mistakes. Several times over.

During a demanding couple of weeks, I’ve watched myself do a lot of these little things like second nature.

I am far from perfect.

But it really is the sum of all these little things that I’ve picked up on along the way, that make managing my diabetes just that little bit easier.

Throwback Thursday: I Am Obsessed With Perfect Blood Sugar Levels

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It has been an extremely busy month, and I’m very much looking forward to a Winter break as of tomorrow. Today I’m giving you the pleasure of some diabetes attitude from 2015 Frank. I’ll just sit in the corner and cringe…

I think sometimes I can be over obsessed with the idea of perfect blood sugar levels. I am so obsessed that it takes over my thoughts and my actions.

Hyperglycemia. I absolutely HATE seeing a blood sugar level of, say, 20. It usually happens after a day of unhealthy eating. And other times its a complete suprise. It irritates me. It frustrates me. It angers me. It guilts me. It even cues scary thoughts of future diabetes complications. I’ll hastily grab my insulin pen, dial up a big dose, and jab it in. I know its too big of a dose, but I’m not thinking clearly. I just want to get my blood sugar levels back down to earth ASAP. And I’ll do anything to avoid seeing those numbers again. And more often than not, I’ll end up over bolusing just to ensure my blood sugar levels don’t peak that high. Which leads me to…

Hypos. Hypos make me feel weak. Tired. Powerless. Defeated. Seeing a hypo is disheartening, particularly on days where I feel I’ve done all the right things. Drenched in sweat, hands trembling, head spinning, I’ll reach for the jellybeans and start to shove them in my mouth. I hate them and the dry, sugary taste they leave on my tongue that will have me dying of thirst later on. Once I start to feel better, the feels of frustration and anger will begin to kick in. Screw it. I’ll get up and find the nicest, most sugary treat I can find comfort in. And before I know it, I’m right back where I started.

If there’s one thing I want to clean out, its my obsession with having perfect blood sugar levels. There’s no such thing. I don’t know of anyone who has perfect levels all the time. I need to accept that my blood sugars will rise and fall. I need to accept that some of the foods I eat will make my blood sugars spike higher than others. I need to stop testing five minutes after a meal and make drastic decisions to fix my blood sugar levels according to what I think they should be. I need to learn to be patient and wait for my blood sugar levels to come down naturally. And I need to accept that sometimes hypos happen, and I shouldn’t let them get the better of me.

Because if I don’t accept it all, I’ll be trapped in this vicious cycle forever.

Breathe.

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It had just gone 5 o’clock. The sun had almost disappeared when I last glanced out the window. The ever so trusty Weatherzone app on my iPhone told me that the temperature outside was 15.2 degrees and falling. I had just eaten a handful of Red Rock Deli Honey Soy Chicken chips and a small lamington, washed down with a milky coffee.

My body wanted nothing more than to ignite the heater and curl up in front of the television.

But my head was telling me that I needed this.

I laced up my faded grey Nike shoes with the blue tick. My blood sugar was sitting at 5.8, although I was certain that I would need this walk if I had any chance of blunting the spike from my afternoon tea. I tapped my pocket, reassured by the familiar bulk that was my iPhone. I grabbed the headphones from my desk, despite being certain my mind would be too far in overdrive to listen to anything. I grabbed the grey pencil case on the dresser, containing my meter and glucose tabs, and headed out the door.

I could feel the cold, relatively still air brushing against my face as I began to walk down the street.

My headphones remained clutched in my right hand, as I tried ever so hard to focus on my breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I can’t say with any certainty that this walk took my mind away from the things that have been on my mind lately.

It’s usually during times like these that I struggle to find a place for my diabetes.

Yet I was amazed at how smoothly my diabetes management tasks had slid into the background, almost like second nature.

Mystery of the Varying Overnight Basals

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Last week was an exhausting week for many reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with diabetes.

Yet surprisingly, my blood sugars have been cruising along at the best they’ve been in weeks.

I’ve been struggling with my overnight basal rates in recent weeks. There have been some uncomfortable overnight lows, and then there have been other mornings where I’ve woken up frustratingly high. Alarms have been going off 2 or 3 times each night, instead of the usual one.

Things have felt rather inconsistent of late, so I decided to slap on a new FreeStyle Libre sensor last week to try and nut things out. I think I have finally cracked the mystery of the varying overnight basal needs.

If I go to bed sitting in the 7s or 8s, my overnights look something like this.


Looking at the gradual rise from around 4am, I’d be ready to make a basal change.

But when I go to bed sitting in the 5s or 6s on the same basal rate, my nights end up looking like this.

So it seems that my insulin sensitivity is far better when I go to bed in the 5s and 6s. I cruise along much more smoothly during the night, and my blood sugars get off to a much better start when my day begins in range.

So I’m now trying to be a little more bolder with my corrections at bedtime, in the hopes that I can replicate these levels and a decent night’s sleep more often.

Diabetes has so many little intricacies. It always keeps me on my toes, and I’m still learning new things about it after seven years.