Fearful and Falling in Target

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What do they pump into the air at Target? Is it Afrezza or something? Because that seems like the only logical explanation for the phenomenon that seems to occur to most other fellow T1Ds when we step into a Target store.

Low blood sugars tend to happen at Target. Also known as “Target lows”, they can occur at any Target, big or small, no matter how long or short the shopping trip.

I experienced one last week. And it was severely exacerbated by the fact that I was visiting one in my new city for the first time by myself.

You are a rare gem.
Damn you, Target, for making my blood sugar go low during basically nine out of ten visits.

As you can see from my CGM screenshot, my blood sugar was definitely not low – not even close to it. I was in the mid-250s by the time I headed to the store, which is absolutely NOT where I like to be. But I didn’t take a correction bolus or even raise my basal insulin temporarily, because I guess I just had that feeling about my Target trip. I didn’t bother checking my CGM again after I parked, figuring that I’d do my best to make it a quick trip with minimal purchases.

Forty minutes (I’d been aiming for 20) after I’d stepped into the store and one semi-full cart (oops) later, I started feeling panicky and gasp-y. I told myself no, no, no, I wasn’t going low, I was just maybe reacting strangely to the scent of all the cleansers in the aisle I was occupying. I could deny it all I want, but in the back of my mind, I knew that I needed to pull my cart over, dig through my backpack, and locate my CGM so I could at least be informed of what my blood sugar was doing.

fullsizeoutput_d6b
Honestly, Target and all other retailers should just make glucose tablets free to any shoppers who are having a low moment.

So I did just that. Upon checking my Dexcom app and seeing that down arrow, I practically started hyperventilating. That’s when the following series of thoughts flew through my mind:

Okay, just get to the checkout…

Ugh, why is there only one open?! Guess you’ll have to self-checkout on low brain. Great…

OMG, Molly, you know you can only scan one item at a time…go faster!

You are NOT going to go down in this Target. Not today!!!

By some miracle, I successfully purchased my items and booked it to my car. Once I loaded everything inside, I suspended my insulin and shoved three glucose tablets into my mouth at once, chewing them so fast and furious that it probably deserved its own movie by the same name…(oh, but that’s taken *tee-hee*).

Normally, I would wait for my blood sugar to come back up before even thinking about driving home…but this wasn’t exactly a normal situation. I was on my one-hour lunch break from work, and I was rapidly approaching the 59-minute mark. The rational part of my brain (the way, way, super-far-back part) knew that I would be okay after about 15 minutes or so, but I was just so stressed about being alone in a strange city and wanted nothing more than to return to the safety of my apartment, pronto.

Of course, I had no idea how to actually get home – I needed my GPS to get to and from Target, and I’m sure I’ll need it to get basically anywhere for the foreseeable future – so I plugged my address into my phone’s GPS app.

And yet I STILL managed to take a wrong turn or three as I anxiously drove back to the apartment.

Less than 15 minutes later, I was parked and my shopping bags and I were inside my apartment. And that’s when I fell apart, feeling stupid for letting the low happen and getting lost on the way home…and feeling extra dumb for crying so hard about it.

Yeah, methinks that I’ll be running a temporary basal reduction the next time I plan a Target trip. I don’t want to be fearful and falling again any time soon.

 

How Moving to a New State Impacted my Diabetes

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A few short days ago, I made the move from Massachusetts to Virginia…and just as I predicted, the whole process has been emotionally draining. I’ve cried more times than I can count. I’ve busted my butt trying to get settled as quickly as possible. I’ve been eating poorly as a way to cope with my emotions. And my blood sugars have been all over the place as a result…again, just as I predicted, but still a bit disheartening.

I knew to expect some diabetes turbulence from the get-go. After all, a seven-hour car ride doesn’t exactly bode well for anyone’s blood sugar. But surprisingly, the drive to Virginia was probably when my blood sugar was most stable. I was snacking a little (okay, a lot) on the drive because it gave me something to do other than cry and talk unintelligibly to my boyfriend (my trusty driver) and it was far from healthy snacks…think fast food breakfast sandwich, Reese’s cups, and trail mix. Could’ve been worse, could’ve been a whole lot better. I think that because I was well aware of the high carb content of my snacks of choice, it motivated me to stay on top of my blood sugars and give myself micro-boluses as needed.

So that was all well and good.

Then came the actually moving-in process.

You are a rare gem.

Box after box and bag after bag were transported from the car, up three flights of stairs, and down a long hallway. It’s no wonder that I went a little low from all that back-and-forth, though I did think that riding the elevator as needed would’ve prevented too much of a drop. And if I could go back in time, I’d like to address the day that I took off from work to do the bulk of my unpacking and adjust my temporary basal settings to something like a 50% decrease for six hours or so. That’s because as I sorted through clothing, emptied boxes, and organized all of my possessions, my blood sugar just did not want to stay put at a comfortable level. Over the course of the very long day that I spent unpacking, my blood sugar dropped low enough that I had to stop what I was doing to eat three times. It felt like I was constantly stuffing my face with food, which was frustrating and the last thing I wanted when all I desired was to get settled.

That’s the physical component of moving – a lot of labor; more specifically, lifting, tidying, hanging, folding, unfolding, and if you’re me, cursing.

But there’s an emotional side to it, too, that I would guess affected my blood sugar just as much as the physical aspect did.

I’ll be honest: Tears were shed. Anxiety felt like it would swallow me whole at points. Doubts ran through my mind as I wondered whether I was strong enough to be so far away from family and friends. I was feeling – and am still feeling, TBH – so many different emotional swings that I am fairly certain that I can blame my blood sugar swings on them.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I know I need to give myself time to adjust. I’ve got to take it day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. I need to let myself feel the way that I feel and remember to be kind to myself, especially where diabetes is concerned.

It just helps to write it all down.

A Device-Free Shower

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For the first time in *literally* years, I took a device-free shower the other day.

AND IT WAS AMAZING.

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Ta-ta for now, little friends.

Let me clarify that by device-free, I mean that I wasn’t wearing a pump or a CGM on my body. Both were due to be changed that evening, so with what can only be described as unadulterated glee, I peeled my Dexcom followed by my pod off my body before practically leaping into the shower.

It probably sounds funny, and perhaps a little dramatic or flat-out fucking weird, but those 15 minutes without a single medical device stuck to me were glorious. I wasn’t worried about accidentally knocking something off. I was free to scrub off the adhesive that had kept the devices stuck to my skin, and I felt oddly empowered – carefree, even – that I could enjoy one of the most mundane daily routines without needing to worry about my diabetes. Sure, for the duration of my shower, I wasn’t receiving my basal rate of insulin, but I really didn’t care because 1) I took a small bolus to compensate for it before I removed my pod and 2) I was more focused on doing this one little thing for myself to reclaim my body from diabetes devices, even if it was for a short window of time.

So you might argue that I had my first truly nekkid shower for the first time in forever. And it made me happy. A brief reprieve from diabetes is always welcome, and I’ll take it in whatever silly form I can get it in.

Diabetes in the Wild, Investment Seminar Edition

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I always get kind of excited when I’m out and about and notice another T1D. There are some pretty obvious signs that clue me into their similarly useless pancreases: spotting insulin pump tubing, witnessing a finger stick check, and spying a syringe injection are chief among them. Even though I know what to look for and what it means, though, I still can’t help but feel a little thrill when I know I’m in the presence of another person with diabetes.

I know, I know…that makes me sorta weird/creepy, depending on your perspective. But whatever, it is what it is!

Anyways, I experienced another edition of “diabetes in the wild” when I was stuck, in all places, in an investment seminar. I (willingly) signed up for it as part of ongoing educational training for work and didn’t really know what to expect from it. All I knew going into it was that it was expected to last THREE FRIGGEN’ HOURS.

let's party out loud!
I never thought I’d be writing about diabetes and the investment sector in one single piece, but then again, I never thought I’d do a lot of the things I’ve done so far in life.

That’s a long-ass time to spend talking about stocks, bonds, and ETFs.

To make matters slightly worse, upon seeing the other students enrolled in the class, I figured I had basically nothing in common with them. The other seven people were around my parents’ age and up, with a couple of them looking like they were retirees. It was also a predominantly male group, with the seminar being conducted by a male financial professional…so yeah, didn’t seem like there would be much for me to talk about with everyone else.

No big deal. I settled in for what was bound to be a long evening. Just when the seminar instructor started diving into a very-not-fascinating slide on poor diversification within individual investment portfolios, I heard a high-pitched beep from across the room.

My attention immediately drifted from the front of the room to where I thought the sound had come from. My eyes landed on a man (who looked like the oldest of the bunch) who was reaching into his pocket for something…aha! A glucometer!

One of me, one of me…I started chanting. In my head. Because I’m not THAT weird.

I wondered what kind of meter it was – I couldn’t think of any off the top of my head that beeped. But then I saw the man reach back into his pocket to grab…oh, so that’s where the beeping noise was coming from – his pump. It wasn’t an OmniPod; rather, I saw the trail of tubing peeping out from his jeans.

For the next half hour or so, I noticed the man fiddle with his glucometer and pump a few times. I felt badly for him and hoped that he wasn’t experiencing any blood sugar issues or technical difficulties. Plus, I’m sure he must’ve felt a little self-conscious about his devices being out in the open – the instructor did glance at him a few times, as if he was thinking that the man should stop playing with his electronics and focus on the presentation. Given that was the correct interpretation of the situation, I felt defensive for the man. I wanted to tell the instructor to give him a break, that he was doing what needed to be done for his health.

At the seminar’s conclusion, I had every intention of going up to the man, introducing myself, and having a conversation about diabetes. But then…I stopped myself. I’m trying to get better about remembering that many people with diabetes are not as comfortable as I am when it comes to talking about it to perfect strangers. Maybe it would’ve embarrassed him further or made him angry. So I walked out of the classroom, quietly, albeit with a slight smile on my face…because diabetes isn’t always an illness of isolation. It can be the common denominator between you and someone else you don’t think you could possibly share anything with. And sometimes, you can find it in the most random, unexpected places and suddenly feel a bit less lonely.

Metformin Update #1: Slow Start Comes to a Screeching Halt

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A month ago, I wrote about how I was going to start taking an oral diabetes medication called Metformin. You can read all about what is is and why I started taking it by clicking here. (If you didn’t read that post when it was initially published, I recommend skimming it quickly before you continue reading this one…otherwise, what I have to say next might not make much sense.)

All caught up? Good. Now I can tell you that my first Metformin update isn’t much of one…because I’ve already stopped taking it (for now, anyways).

ClearanceYard Sale
For now, this vial of pills will remain mostly full.

After two weeks of taking one pill after dinner daily, I decided that I needed a break from my new diabetes therapy. There’s a lot going on in my life right now – I’m moving to a new state in a matter of days, so all my spare time is spent either packing or seeing my family and friends. Adding a new medication into the mix, one that can cause unpredictable blood sugars, just doesn’t make sense. And while it could be argued that I could make adjustments to my insulin dosages to help mitigate the number of lows I experience, I simply don’t have the patience to fiddle around with my insulin-to-carb ratios or basal rates at this time. It’s all too much change at once, and even though I’ve become much more comfortable with new things in my adulthood, I still need time to acclimate to them.

I explained all that, albeit much more succinctly, to my endocrinologist via my patient portal messaging system a few days ago. And she’s totally on board with my decision, thank goodness. I’m free to resume Metformin again when I’m ready.

The affirmation from my endo that I was doing the right thing feels great. It helps me feel more confident in making choices that benefit my body’s health as well as my mental health. Even though now doesn’t feel like a good time to be taking daily doses of Metformin, I know that won’t always be the case. Maybe, in time, it’ll become a crucial component of my diabetes care and management routine – maybe I’ll end up valuing it as much as my OmniPod or CGM. But for now, I’m okay with putting it off just a bit longer.

How to React When a Loved One With Diabetes is Struggling

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If you have a partner/spouse, relative, or friend with type one diabetes, it can be difficult to know how to best support that person when they’re experiencing struggles related to diabetes. You might try to offer a shoulder for your loved one to lean on, but that might not always work. Your loved one might push you away or continue to internalize their issues. It can create turbulence in your relationship with one another, and it’s frustrating all around.

So what can you do?

We Have 10,000 Followers!

As someone who both has T1D and loves others with T1D (my mom, my aunt, many good friends), I believe that the best way to react is to just listen. Whenever I’ve faced serious struggles or emotional turmoil due to diabetes, nothing has helped me quite like a person who spares time for me to listen to me. Whether I just need to spew out an angry diatribe (LOL at the pun), cry about my problems, talk through issues, or seek advice, it’s worked wonders on me to know that I have individuals in my life who are willing to listen to me. Let me emphasize the listen part once again – listen, not tell me that I’m right or wrong, or offer advice (unless I specifically ask for it).

I get it; sometimes, it’s easier said than done to just listen. A few people I know are so determined to help me fix the problem that they can’t help but react emotionally along with me when I’m dealing with diabetes drama. But trust me, that usually heightens (rather than alleviates) the tension.

It’s all about teamwork. Give and take is involved. Often, enormous amounts of patience are required. Sometimes, it takes awhile for the struggles to subside. But one thing that is certain is that your loved one with diabetes will always thank you and be grateful for your support in their time of need. It’ll strengthen your relationship as well as function as proof that diabetes can’t break your bond, no matter how hard it might try.

 

Is it Weird That I Love Looking at Lab Results?

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Is it just me, or does anyone else anxiously await checking lab results after getting blood work done? And am I the only one who excitedly reads through results, looking for anything abnormal so I can see which area of my health I need to work on? It’s kind of like whenever I handed in a paper or took an exam in college – I always logged onto the student portal multiple times in the days after to check for posted grades. I do the exact same thing with my patient portal.

I know, I know, I’m weird. I prefer to call it quirky.

Lab reslts
An *utterly fascinating* screenshot of some of the allergens I’ve been tested for in the past.

I started thinking about this little idiosyncrasy a few days ago, after I got lab results back from my allergist. She had me go into a lab to get 10 vials of blood drawn so it could be tested to see what types of allergies I had. Fun!!! In the days following, I checked my patient portal dozens of times to see whether the results were up. And when they finally were, I was obsessed with poring through them and seeing how much sense I could make of them.

And I’ll admit, I love looking at lab results because I have a historical view of just about anything and everything I’ve been tested for in my life, and that includes my A1c levels. On more than one occasion, I’ve fallen down the black hole of comparing and contrasting my results over the years. It’s interesting to see how I can trace back certain A1c levels to different events going on in my life at the time it was checked, and more than anything, I enjoy seeing how much I’ve improved in the last decade.

So if this habit of mine sounds plain strange to you, then I don’t want to be normal…I want to be informed. I always want to be informed when it comes to my own health, because ultimately, I’m the one responsible for it, as well as the one who will do everything in her power to improve it.

Breaking up with P.B.

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This is a sad, difficult post for me to write…

I had to end things with P.B. I’m pretty distraught over it, but I know that it’ll do me some good in the long run. Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, right?

If you’re wondering who or what I’m talking about…P.B. is, of course, peanut butter.

the sushi place
Looking at the above image of P.B. is almost enough to make me drool.

It’s that time of year again – the Lenten season, otherwise known as the six weeks prior to Easter during which Catholics traditionally practice penance, prayer, and almsgiving. In addition to avoiding the consumption of meat on Fridays during Lent, it’s also common for observers to give up something in order to focus more energy on acts of kindness and charity.

Last year, I gave up alcohol for Lent and wrote all about it in this blog post. This year, I’ve decided to really test myself by forgoing peanut butter during Lent.

And yes, this truly is a toughie for me…anyone who knows me knows that I love peanut butter. I love it too much. I eat unhealthy amounts of it. If I have a bad day at work, I have a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter. If I need a quick boost of protein, there’s peanut butter. If I’m giving my dog a taste of peanut butter, then you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be giving some to myself, too.

I know there are far worse foods out there to be pretty much addicted to – but peanut butter isn’t exactly the healthiest. The kind we keep around the house is not the natural/healthy stuff free from additives. It’s the Skippy/Peter Pan/Reese’s peanut butter jars that we have in stock…it’s the good stuff that tastes sinfully sugary and fatty.

To intensify matters, peanut butter is my go-to food when my blood sugar is high but I’m craving something delicious. Now that I can’t have it for this window of time, I’m going to have to find an alternative that works…and no, I can’t just consume a different type of nut butter. I’m not eating any of it during Lent because I’m choosing to give up ALL of it. If I indulged on almond butter, I feel like that would just make me want peanut butter more, so I’m avoiding any and all temptation. Honestly, my reliance on peanut butter as a food to eat in just about any situation is making me curious as to how my blood sugars will respond without it for this length of time. There’s a chance they could improve; after all, peanut butter is not without carbohydrates or sugar. So I’m cautiously optimistic that I’ll be glad I gave it up for Lent. Hopefully, by the end of this period of time, the distance will have done some good and lessen the strength of my addiction, as well as maybe even help me lose some weight. Time will tell. As for now, anyone have any suggestions on what could possibly, temporarily replace P.B. for me?!

Should I Have Called 911?

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Unintentionally, I set a personal record the other day. I experienced my lowest low blood sugar – 34 mg/dL. I was alone. And it was terrifying.

Around 1 A.M., I woke up to my CGM buzzing and alerting me to what I presumed was a mild low blood sugar. I definitely felt like I was low, so I quickly ate three glucose tablets without checking and confirming my low on my blood glucose meter. And soon after that, things got really weird.

I tossed and turned for 15 minutes as I tried to fall back asleep. But I just couldn’t get comfortable. To make matters worse, a bizarre, numb sensation invaded my left arm. As I became more and more aware of it, my breathing started to run a bit ragged – almost like I was having a panic attack. Between the breathing and the numbness, I knew something was very wrong.

Should i have called 911_
What would you have done in this situation?

So I bolted upright in bed and grabbed my meter and kit to do a blood sugar check. And that’s when the number 34 popped up on the screen. I swore out loud, and almost immediately began sweating profusely. As beads formed around my hairline and streams trickled down my back, I reached for my bottle of glucose tablets as well as my phone. I ate three more tablets – wondering why the three I’d eaten 15 or so minutes ago seemed to have no affect – and contemplated dialing 911. After all, I was completely alone and there was no telling whether I’d pass out or need assistance from someone. In that moment in time, I craved talking to someone, anyone, who might be able to stay on the phone with me while I waited for my blood sugar to come back up.

Like a complete idiot, though, I decided not to call 911 and instead took to Twitter…*insert face palm here*. I know what you’re thinking, why the eff did I do that? Two reasons: 1) I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly and 2) I knew that someone, somewhere, within my diabetes online community would be awake and possibly willing to talk to me.

Thank goodness my intuition was right…my sweet friend, Heather, who I had the pleasure of meeting IRL five years ago, responded to my tweet a few minutes after I posted it. She offered to call, but by this point in time, I had made it downstairs and into the kitchen just fine and was helping myself to a cupcake I’d baked earlier in the day (oh, how convenient my passion for baking can be…sometimes). I exchanged a few tweets with her back and forth, and before I knew it, 45 minutes passed from the onset of my scary low blood sugar symptoms. I ambled back upstairs to my bed and checked my blood sugar before getting settled back into it. I was surprised to see I was only 72; after all, I’d consumed about 50 grams of carbohydrates in the last hour, and for me, that’s a lot! Most of my meals don’t even contain that many carbs!

Bemused and exhausted, I slumped against my bed frame and distracted myself by scrolling aimlessly through social media channels. My body and my mind craved rest. Much to the relief of both, I was able to get it before long, once I got confirmation from my CGM and my meter that I was finally above the 100 mark. I knew that I’d likely go up much higher (and I certainly did, waking up at 289 the next morning), but at the time, I just didn’t care. All that mattered was that I was going to be okay.

I’ve been reflecting on the incident on and off the last few days. I’m trying to process what happened and how it happened – was it my new Metformin that triggered it? Was it stress that I had experienced earlier in the day manifesting itself? I drank one beer before I went to bed, could that have done it? Did I take too much insulin before bed, even though I was certain I hadn’t? Lord knows that it could’ve been any combination of those factors, or none of them…but I can tell you this: I haven’t taken Metformin since it happened out of fear. I’ll talk to my endocrinologist soon and revisit my dosing plan with her. I can also tell you that, even as I continue to process the entire ordeal, I’m feeling so lucky that I was lucid enough to take proper care of myself. I know there are many other T1Ds who can’t say the same and have experienced much more awful low blood sugar incidents, so I’m simply counting my blessings right now.

What would you have done, had you been in my shoes? Would you have called 911, a family member, a friend? Would you have waited it out?

Memory Monday: The First Time I Tried Alcohol & How it Affected My Diabetes

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One Monday per month, I’ll take a trip down memory lane and reflect on how much my diabetes thoughts, feelings, and experiences have unfolded over the years. Today, I remember…

…the first time I drank alcohol and how it affected my diabetes – more specifically, my blood sugars. And that’s right folks, I CAN recall it…fortunately, this experience does not coincide with my first time actually getting drunk.

Don’t worry, Mom and Dad, you won’t recoil in horror while reading this post!!!

My first time drinking alcohol occurred during my first week of college, freshman year. So…college of me.

My freshman year dormitory held fewer than 100 students. Due to the relatively small nature of the building, everyone started bonding and forming friend groups pretty quickly. By the time our first weekend on-campus rolled around, we were all itching to get together, continue to get to know one another, and naturally, drink like delinquents.

I Volunteer To Drink!

That Friday night, I was sitting on the floor of my friends’ dorm room – Emma and Kira had the largest, swaggiest digs in our whole friend group, if not the entire dormitory – when our friend Chris entered, holding a full bottle of grape-flavored Svedka vodka in his hands. I remember him making the rounds, pouring us shots of vodka that we would drink as a group. As he filled shot glasses, I started feeling extremely nervous. I had zero prior experience with alcohol, let alone vodka. So many questions flitted through my mind: Would I feel drunk right away? What was it going to taste like? Does the grape flavor mean that it contains more sugar, and would it make my blood sugar go up?

I barely had time to contemplate answers, though, when people started lifting their shot glasses into the air and toasting the beginning of our college careers. Even though I was sweating bullets, I smiled and cheered along with everyone else as we tossed back our shots…

…which tasted absolutely foul. I’m pretty sure I almost retched, but did what I could to contain myself because I didn’t want to seem like a loser. I’ll never forget thinking to myself, this shit tastes just like how nail polish remover smells. How can people possibly drink and enjoy this?

I sat there, internalizing all my thoughts and feelings about drinking my first shot of alcohol, and just tried to blend in with the group. But it was kind of difficult for me to do, because at some point in the night, my anxious thoughts consumed me and I abstained myself from drinking anything else. I was too caught up in the unknown, and I cared too much about how this one little innocent shot of vodka might impact my diabetes.

As I would come to find out later that night, one shot of vodka had zero-to-no affect on my blood sugars. And of course, in time, my fears about alcohol and my blood sugars faded because I educated myself on how to do it safely. I learned that every type of alcohol has a different carbohydrate content. I discovered what did and didn’t work for me, often in a controlled environment. But I wouldn’t change my first encounter with it at all because the shared experience of drinking shitty grape vodka with this group of strangers, on the first Friday night of college, is one of the many shared experiences that turned them into some of my dearest friends. That, I can raise a glass to…as long as it’s not filled with Svedka anything.