0900 hours
DSA Coles is off to an awesome super-athlete day! Slept through the night. Blood sugar’s fine. Hucos-Pocus Super-Tracker is working… A champion breakfast of all-curing oaties (I swear, my hair is getting so thick and lovely! JK. I don’t have any hair right now), a brisk walk for Super-Pup, and DSA Coles is off to the gym for training session #1 of the day: weight-training.
1200 hours
Training session #1 successfully completed, training session #2 (pilates instruction) commences with no problems.
1220 hours
The Hucos-Pocus Super-Tracker is off by 100 points… and now reading “Sensor Error #1”. A half-hour call to Dexcom ensues. DSA Coles feels certain the wonderful young woman on the other end does not have diabetes, and has never used a super-tracker. A harrowing internal battle rages in DSA Coles’ brain as the Nice Lady explains a bunch of stuff she already knows. Players on the battlefield include our super-heroine’s innate sense of skepticism, distrust of, and frustration with, the super-tracker pitted against the desire to keep and open mind, be a creative problem-solver and not berate the Nice Lady for saying stuff that isn’t true (like, that the Super-Tracker works). Good wins out, and the Nice Lady is left unscathed. DSA Coles follows her instruction and the Super-Tracker is, for the time-being, restored to functionality.
1400 hours
DSA Coles eats corn chips. Again.
1500 hours
DSA Coles wonders how she can be such an idiot, so many times in a row. Blood glucose is holding steady (if the Super-Tracker is to be trusted), but it’s just a matter of time… DSA Coles is plunged into despair and self-loathing.
1700 hours
Self-loathing has cleared up, but chip-induced blood sugar has not. Social-professional mixer-mingler is attended in a fog of hyperglycemia.
1800 hours
Training session #3 for the day is focused and productive, despite a sugar of 370 and rising. If it’s true that the human body is 98% water then DSA Coles is currently an optical illusion, and by all logic should be the size of a grape.
2000 hours
DSA Coles’ tribulations are over. Sugar has returned to normal, eyes back in focus, racing heart and chest constriction have ceased, mouth is free of cotton. Note to self, DSA Coles: lay off the f-ing corn chips!!!