Good Streak

There was a three week period in January that my blood sugars were startlingly good. Each and every time I pricked my finger, I’d get a reading between 70-130. I hadn’t changed any variables, and I still have no idea why they were so good. Like all good things, the streak came to an end. I’m back to being ‘uncontrolled.’

With that lovely title reinstated, I have been doing my best to check 7-8 times a day rather than 4-5. I understand that the more times you check, especially if you’re not waiting 2-3 hours post meal, that the readings are likely to be outside of the target range. What I’m finding is that the more I check my blood sugar–the more people really realize that I have a chronic disease. When I’m hidden in my office, or checking in the bathroom, people forget that I deal with a disease 24 hours of every day.

A few days ago at lunch, I pulled out my test kit. A good friend and co-worker flinched and commented that the sight of blood makes her queazy. I wanted to respond with, “Hey! Me, too! It’s a good thing you don’t have to see your own blood 8 times a day.” Oddly enough, I had already completed the finger prick and blood test when she covered her eyes. I hadn’t made a scene. In fact, I had completed the prick and blood draw underneath the lunch table. I only set the PDM and strip on the table while it was calculating my number. No blood is visible with the Freestyle butterfly strips.

One day last week, two hours post-breakfast happened to land during passing time in the hallway, so I tested as I greeted students. The teacher who has his classroom next to my office strolled over and asked me how many times a day I check. When I told him 7-8, he was taken aback.

“Really?!”
“Yes.”
“Why so many times?”
“Because my body doesn’t make an essential hormone that regulates blood glucose. My complete lack of that hormone means that I have to take on the job of regulating it myself, or I feel very sick and eventually die. Your body does it constantly, without error. My body does it never, and I have to account for, and correct, my own human error.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, man. It’s a trip.”

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