Life Isn't Perfect & Diabetes Is A Fickle Bitch

This past Friday through Monday morning, my diabetes not only behaved, it was damn near perfect. Perfect numbers to match a perfect last summer weekend. 
NEWSFLASH: Life isn’t perfect and diabetes is a fickle bitch. 

Monday morning started simply enough. I woke up with a 140 blood sugar an 9 units left  of insulin in my reservoir. I put in a fresh reservoir, bolused for and drank some coffee, then headed out to get my gentle stretch yoga on. 
2 hours later I walked in the house with a blood sugar of 95 and feeling all types of groovy. 

And then slowly, like the amusement ride called Free Fall, a ride I loved and feared as a child and despise as an adult, my numbers started to rise and wouldn’t come down. 
120 - no big deal. 150 - I’d just had lunch so that was cool. 200, 190, 233, 250, 200,249, 270, all the way up to 293. 
No last day of summer fun for me - and no matter how many correction boluses I did or new infusions sites I put in (two,) my numbers wouldn’t budge.

My numbers were shit and I felt terrible. I ate few crackers and a slice of cheese for dinner and drank club soda for the rest of night. 
At 11 pm, I called it a day, and only after my blood sugar had fallen from 290 to 240 and I felt safe to go to bed. 
I woke up at 1:26 am with a filled bladder and a blood sugar of 226. 
I gave myself a correction bolus of 1.7 units, peed like a race horse and went back to bed. 

I woke up at 6:45 am, Tuesday with 20 units lift in my reservoir and a 247 blood sugar. 
I changed out my site again and switched out my reservoir for yet another new one - eating the 20 units of precious insulin in the process. 
I bolused for a cup of coffee and a correction, showered and left the house with a blood sugar of 199. 
I ate a protein bar and went about my business  - I had a busy week and quite frankly, 
I needed to get shit done. 
And I was getting shit done - until 11ish am, when my blood sugar started to fall fast and once again mimicking that damn Free Fall. Except instead of rising to the heavens, my Diabetes Free Fall ride was crashing fast and heading to hell and I couldn’t keep up with it. 
I’d just left Staples and was shoving a kindbar in my mouth, trying to prevent the crash and it wasn't kicking in fast enough, for my liking. 
I made it to my car and sat in the drivers seat, phone in one hand, glucose tabs in another, meter next to me - and tried to remain calm. 
My meter said I was 65, but I knew I wasn’t. I was sweating and shaking. I stared at the medical ID bracelet on my wrist and I was grateful - If something were to happen, at least they’d know I had diabetes. 

5 glucose tabs later. I got out of my car and walked to the Pizza shop next to the Staples. 
I felt unsteady on my feet - and as I pulled the handle on the door, I felt my body tilt to one side - a weird slow tilt - and for a split second, the door handle suddenly looked sideways. I walked through the door, went to the drink fridge. grabbed a Nantucket Lemonade and started to drink it. I went to the cashier, gave her the three dollars without blinking an eye or uttering a word. I was starting to feel like myself again - a tired, sweaty version of myself. 
I sat in my car for another 25 minutes, taking little sips of lemonade - at 55 grams of carbs I didn’t want to gulp the bottle down and deal with high blood sugars later.  
Finally, I put the key in the ignition when my meter flashed 91 on the screen. 
And as I was driving I started to cry. 

I cried because I was angry and frustrated and I cried because for the first time in a long time, diabetes had kicked me so damn hard I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back up. 
When I got home, I sat at my desk and tried my best to get on with my day - but the feeling of diabetes defeat wouldn’t leave my side. I chatted briefly online with a few doc friends about it -but kept the fact that I’d been so scared to myself. 
My numbers didn’t go above 150 for the rest of the afternoon. And at 4pm, I shut my laptop down, called it a day, crawled into bed and took a nap. 
 And for most of last night, I kept thinking about diabetes getting the best of me. 
I kept telling myself that THIS wasn’t a daily occurrence and that we, every single person living with diabetes, have days like this - and I know that to be true. 

Each of us have days and moments where diabetes does get the best of us - And I needed to accept that - and I usually do. 
But for some reason, it was really hard to accept this time... because I don’t want diabetes to get the best of me - I don’t want diabetes to fucking win.
I don’t want diabetes to have the upper hand. I don't want diabetes to take moments and any more people away from me who I love, and I don’t want diabetes to take me away from the people I love or the life I want to live. 

And every once in a while - after something like this happens, deep down inside I'm afraid that diabetes will.

 The past 24 hours with diabetes had been a rough ride. Now, the ride was over, the park was closed and I'm glad to get on with the business of living.

And today? Today is going really well. Today is going great~