Dealing with Diabetes

Hungover From a Day of Rollercoaster BGLs

2 Comments

I feel well and truly hungover after a day of dealing with rollercoaster blood sugar levels.

It started with the slice of thick cut raisin toast I had for breakfast. Probably not the most sensible choice of breakfast, but I felt like it. My blood sugar was a lovely 6.8. I’ve been working diligently at producing straight lines overnight and into the morning, and I felt ready for a challenge. So I pre bolused my insulin, drank my coffee, dressed, prepared my toast and ate it.

My FreeStyle Libre showed a perfect 6.9 and steady when I arrived at work, and I was able to put my fears of the toast spiking me to the back of my mind as I started work.

About an hour later I checked again, only to find a 13.1 and an upward trend arrow on my Libre. Nowhere near the 20s territory that raisin toast could potentially send my blood sugars, but still a surprise considering the increased intensity of my physical activity at work yesterday morning. I’ve been producing some spectacularly stable lines through the mornings, so seeing that 13 was rather irritating.

I watched that 13 slowly go down to 12.2 and then settle at 11.0. I should have just left it. I still had close to 2 units of active insulin on board. I was working intensely and I knew the insulin would be extremely sensitive. But the frustration of that 11 got the better of me, and I gave a correction bolus of half a unit, as suggested by my pump.

No more than ten minutes later, before the insulin bolus would have even had time to kick in, my levels were already showing signs of descending. I felt so frustrated. I knew that I should have just left all and good.

As I watched the downward trend arrows on my Libre, I decided to have my morning tea of coffee and a small banana. As I watched my levels enter hypo territory, I added another 15 skittles into the mix and went back out to work.

I refused to check my levels for another hour to avoid any more impulsive actions, until I saw that I had rebounded to 13.3 with an upward trend arrow. I had very little insulin left on board from breakfast, so I entered my reading into my pump and gave half of the suggested correction dose.

I thought I had been extremely cautious, yet within half an hour I was plummeting once again. Not wanting to over-treat this one, I cautiously ate 12 skittles. I ended up needing another 8. My levels bounced back into range, before eventually falling back to hypo territory again by lunchtime.

I felt doubly exhausted from a morning of intense work, combined with rollercoaster glucose levels. By this point it was lunchtime, and all I really craved was sugar. A jam donut and a chunky Kit Kat joined my toasted sandwich for lunch. It was a crazy, crazy ridiculous carb count, but I knew that I would be able to get away with not spiking too high while I was working.

If I had just accepted that raisin toast will naturally send me higher than oats, I might not have had the rollercoaster day that I’ve just had.

Although surprisingly, my glucose levels didn’t go any higher than 14.3mmol all day. Silver linings, right?


A New Member of the D-Club

2 Comments

“Doesn’t your sugar levels go high if you eat too many sweets?”

This was a question that was posed to me over the weekend, as I reached over and grabbed a sweet from the table. 

“I’m low at the moment” were the first words I could get out of my mouth, resisting the urge to add more words until the sugar was sitting safely in my belly.

“I have type 1 diabetes. My body doesn’t produce any insulin.”

I pulled my pump out of my pocket, thankful for my newfound prop that keeps my flailing hand gestures at bay.

“This delivers all of my insulin for me. Technically speaking I can eat anything I want, so long as I give insulin to cover it. Obviously it is better for my blood sugar levels if I eat healthier foods, though.”

This person then went on to tell me that she had been recently diagnosed with early signs of type 2 diabetes, and that the lifestyle changes suggested by her doctor were easier said than done. That she wasn’t sure how changes to her diet would fit in with the rest of her family at home. As she questioned her need for the medication prescribed to her, I could see just how hard it was for her to accept her condition. It brought back my own memories of hiding my diabetes, unable to accept my new ordinary.

I curiously asked if she was testing her blood sugars at home, or whether she had seen a diabetes educator yet. As she told me ‘no,’ I nodded my head. The last thing I wanted to do was to try to give advice. The last thing I wanted to do was to act like I knew what she was going through, or what was best for her. Type 2 diabetes is completely different to type 1. Heck, one person’s diabetes is completely different to another’s.

Yet at the same time, I felt like I should have done more to help her out. I felt sorry for her, because her doctor didn’t seem very helpful or supportive. I hope I said the right things.

“I know it’s hard. It’s taken me ages to make changes that have lasted. I’ve had diabetes for six years, and I still have days where I don’t feel like I’ve got it right.”

All I really wanted to do was to give her a big hug and tell her everything was going to be okay.

Hopefully she sees in me that it will be.

Accepting My Ordinary

3 Comments

I absolutely hated the thought of being visibly different to anyone else after my diagnosis. I would sit in the hallway at diabetes clinic, watching the other “diabetic” young adults, and I absolutely hated that I was one of them. For the first couple of years, I definitely tried to hide from my diabetes to a certain degree.

I stubbornly refused to wear my Medic Alert bracelet, despite Mum and Dad’s constant reminders that it might save my life one day, on the principle that it branded me as a “diabetic.”

I would travel as lightly as possible whenever I left the house, without even thinking about the consequences. My diabetes educator once asked me where my jellybeans and meter were. I used to live by the motto that it would never happen to me. And shops were everywhere for backup.

I rarely tested my glucose in public situations, even if I needed to. Oftentimes at uni, I would test with the meter hidden in my bag. Or pack up my things and walk off to the bathroom.

I refused to wear appropriate footwear. I would stubbornly walk around uni in rubber thongs. When my feet were blistering at the end of the day, I was proud that I fitted in with many of the other students on campus.

I wouldn’t talk about diabetes if I didn’t have to. I didn’t lean on the people around me enough for support. I wasn’t confident or enthusiastic about it when it did come up.

Finding peer support and knowledge online, and opening up about my diabetes through this blog has definitely changed my attitude towards diabetes for the better. (Perhaps some age and maturity comes into play here as well…)

Today, my hypo containers accompany me most times I leave the house. Even if they sit in my jacket all night, or stay in the car on a quick trip to the shops, I feel much more comfortable having them on me. My contingency pack is also ready for when I’m away from home for a prolonged period of time.

DSC02197

I’ve developed a new love for shoes. I’ve been a thongs-and-sandals-in-the-summer kind of guy my whole life, yet now I wear them half as often. While I certainly don’t wear “diabetic” shoes, I do dress more suitably for the occasion. And a good pair of Converse shoes looks good with anything.

Today, my glucose meter sits proudly on my desk at work, within easy reach when I need it. I test in the office that I share with a few other colleagues, and it’s sparked a couple of conversations in particular during recent weeks.

img_1259

I’m still tragically hopeless at stringing words together when people ask me if that is a diabetes testing thingy (translation: blood glucose meter), but boy am I so much more confident in addressing it.

I still don’t wear a Medic Alert bracelet most of the time, but that’s purely just because I’m annoyed at the old expanda band sticking to my wrist (something I need to get onto, soon).

I’ve recently began wearing an insulin pump – a very visible sign of my diabetes. When I think about those first few weeks on the insulin pump, I think about how much I talked it through with my family every morning when I woke up – something that I simply wasn’t able to do after I was diagnosed.

img_0049

I’ve been watching Diabetes Victoria’s Diabetes Won’t Stop Me campaign for National Diabetes Week, trying to think of something grand to say about how I am not stopped by diabetes.

Accepting that these diabetes intricacies are my ordinary over the past few years, is far more extraordinary than what climbing a bridge will ever be.

That, folks, is how I will not be stopped by diabetes.

(Coincidentally, today is also my one year BridgeClimb-aversary!)

Diabetes Hacks: Four Ways With Test Strips!

2 Comments

I had been using FreeStyle Optimum test strips since I was diagnosed. These were wrapped in foil, and left a lot of mess on my desk because I’m too lazy to throw them in the bin straight away. Travelling with them was a nightmare. If you’re like me and want to take 5 boxes with you in your hand luggage in case of a plane crash, this can prove to be a challenge among all the other travel junk.


Last year my diabetes educator gave me a FreeStyle Insulinx meter, and I was introduced to the world of FreeStyle Lite test strips. Quite honestly, they’ve changed my life forever. Instead of the annoying foil wrapping and bulky boxes, these test strips come in small capped vials of 50. They are so much more convenient to use on the run. 10 vials will fit much easier into my hand luggage. There’s no annoying foil wrapping to rip open before I can get to the test strip, and the blood sample required is so much smaller as well. I really notice the difference when I’m using my old Optimum Xceed meter at work. (Of course, FreeStyle is not the only brand of capped test strips you can buy).


Then there’s the mess. Test strips are so damn messy. Partly because I use so many of them. Partly because of the foil, if I’m using the Optimum ones. But mostly because I am too lazy to pick them up and throw them in the bin after each blood glucose test.

A few months ago, I had this pencil cup that I was ready to throw away. Today, it sits on my desk beside my blood glucose meter, acting as a rubbish bin for used test strips and leaving my desk clean and free from blood stains (eww, right?).


Then there’s the leftover blood on my fingers after a glucose test. I always wipe it with an alcohol swab, apply pressure with a tissue and then wash my hands.

Yeah, right!

I’m a wiper. I wipe the leftover blood on my finger against the side of my test strip, toss it into my pencil cup, and I’m good to go!

Finally, to repeat one of my favourite hacks, test strips vials make great hypo jars. My hypo brain always manages to lose count of the skittles I’ve eaten. This hack saves me so much time when I’m low and all I really want to do is shove sugar in my mouth as quickly as possible!

DSC02193

Have any diabetes life hacks of your own? Post yours to Diabetes Queensland on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram using #diabeteslifehacks and the team will share them during National Diabetes Week!

Finding My Tribe

4 Comments

People don’t see me at 2.30am in the morning, shivering, and shoving skittles down my throat. They don’t see me on a restless night, rage bolussing stubborn highs that refuse to go down. Or the finger pricks I perform every time I walk out of the room.

People don’t see the insulin pump that I pull out of my pocket underneath the table. They don’t see the loads of discarded test strips and insertion devices underneath the lid of my rubbish bin.

People don’t see the guilt I feel every time I put a donut or a piece of chocolate into my mouth. They don’t see how tied down I feel every time I walk out of the house, with a jacket or satchel stuffed full of diabetes crap. Or the failure I feel at the bruises and scars that are hidden underneath my shirt.

People don’t see the exhaustion I feel, every time the alarm clock goes off to check my glucose in the middle of the night. They don’t see the burnout I feel behind every smile, and every single ‘good morning’ that bounces off my face.

People don’t see the rollercoaster of emotions that flood through my body when the door to my room is closed. They don’t see the fear I feel, every time this condition takes an unpredictable turn. Or the judgement I place on myself, every time I go quiet.

You don’t see diabetes, when you look at a person like me. You see normal. I daresay you even see healthy. You see me drinking coffee and eating donuts, just like everyone else. You don’t see all of the tasks that managing this condition entails. You don’t see the isolation I feel, living with a condition that you need to experience to fully understand (and trust me, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone).

For me, a big part of what was missing from my own diabetes equation for the first four years was peer support. Nothing really does beat the feeling of hearing someone else say the words “me too.” “I get it.” Or “I hear you.” Nothing beats the anticipation I feel, every time I refresh my diabetes feed reader. Nothing beats the enthusiasm I feel during OzDOC chats every Tuesday night. Nothing beats the sense of community I feel every time I am glued to Twitter, that makes me feel far less alone with my condition. Nothing beats being able to lean on my family for support when I need it, something that I simply wasn’t able to do after my diagnosis.

There’s an old saying that goes, “find your tribe and love them hard.”

I’ve definitely found mine, and they certainly won’t be going away anytime soon.

il_570xN.815407943_j0p8