Wrestling Diabetes

A Morning Low this past Friday turned me into a wrestler.

A D-Wrestler.

The opponent: Suzi, my D-Wife.

We were forced to wrestle against diabetes. Stories are that it was quiet the competitive match, and it wasn't pretty at times. But we pulled through, and it's taught some lessons.

That night before, I'd gone to bed on Thursday night, still on newspaper deadline and prepped for a pretty active Friday morning trying to finish what needed to be done. Bedtime BG was 495, a consequence of Date Night that yielded great wine and dining in downtown Indy. Though I'd done a slight SWAG (Scientific Wild-Axx Guessing) for dinner, the result was still somewhat surprising. Took my night-time Lantus Pen shot, an hour or so earlier than the night before. Calculated the bolus, realizing that it might be worthwhile to check at 3 a.m. just to be safe. Headed off to bed and throughout the night all appeared well.

Suzi got up for work early, and all appeared fine about 7:30 a.m. I recall getting up and wandering around, but for whatever reason I didn't test and went back to sleep after she'd left.

Hours later, my absence at work led my bosses to start calling. No response, they contacted Suzi at work. She rushed home.

Found me asleep on the bed. The dog was sitting beside the bed, with her head resting on the side as her sad brown eyes watched her daddy.

Suzi tried to wake me, and word is I glared at her wide-eyed and out of it. She knew instantly what was up (or down, actually).

Getting the frosting from kitchen drawer downstairs, she came back and forced it down my throat. Apparently, I struggled. At one point, I was screaming like a banshee trying to prevent her from stuffing the frosting into my mouth. She sat on my chest, holding my arms and forcing me down.

Fortunately, it worked. Suzi emerged victorius, pinning me down with the Chest Pin, Arm Hold, Honey In Mouth Move.

Had it got any more crazy, she probably would have turned to the Glucagon shot in the butter compartment downstairs. Or if really bad, may have summoned the paramedics to avoid any Low Swings to the Face. In my Crazy Low Mind, it doesn't appear that Suzi this time was an Alien trying to Poision Me with Alien Apple Cider. We're fortunate to not have had a repeat on that front.

The Low started subsiding, and I came out of it. Weary. Chest and arms sore. But stable.

By this time, it was 12:30p.m. A BG showed: 52 mg/dL. Enhaled more glucose tabs, and then shortly after munched down a fabulous PB&J for some substance

Spent rest of the afternoon working from home, after apologizing to the bosses and getting my head on straight. It was about this time I learned that U.S. Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens had announced his retirement earlier in the day - of course, as this is huge and a big deal for my job. Hustled to get back on track, without any more wrestling adventures. Stayed in a Higher BG state, but kept it higher to keep the sanity. Eventually, the glucoaster leveled out for the weekend's start.

The whole experience is just another consequence of the unpredictability of going from pumping to multiple daily injections. Should be talking to the doctor early in the week for some changes. Hope the wrestling matches aren't a part of the D-Life for much longer.
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