Lately, my diabetes has been running over me like a Mac truck driven by a rabid weasel on speed.
Last night, I was laying in bed, throwing a pity party for myself because my blood sugars are not in control, my insulin pump is lying to me about my blood sugar, and woe is me, I have a rough life. I’m done.
I’ve been passively letting my doctor make changes to my insulin pump settings whenever I go in for my quarterly check-ups. Each time, they tell me the numbers aren’t good and make a few minor tweaks to the pump settings.
I’m not waiting around anymore. I’m not going to let the doctors decide what’s best for me when that’s clearly not working – and never really has been. Not in years.
Today I went into the pump and shifted the settings to push more insulin. No, I’m not a doctor. But I know the general pattern of out-of-control that I’m seeing. And I know the shifts my doctor has been making on my behalf are not aggressive enough, because it isn’t getting better.
So I’m taking control.
I’m going to beat the living crap out of my diabetes. I may not get it perfect, but by Cthulhu, I can do better than the numbers I’ve been getting. Passively floating along, hoping this magically solves itself is stupid.
I’m not stupid.
The last 30 days, my avg BG is 185. Not good enough.
Time to quit messing around and get it together. So today, I started a spreadsheet tracking my averages and my pump settings. I know where the biggest out-of-whack numbers are. For me, that’s post-breakfast. Most work days, I eat packaged breakfast foods (granola bars, etc.) so I know I’m entering my carb counts right. So I’m starting there – adjusting my carb ratios to give more insulin (and lowering my basal rates during that time, since I’ve noticed I go low if I skip breakfast).
Let’s do this.
I have no idea if the roller coaster of my actual BGs is contributing to my issues with sensors being out of calibration. But it can’t be helping. And either way, it’s a problem I can work on. Solve the problems you can, then worry about the other problems later. Small steps, but steps rather than just standing around feeling sorry for myself.