8 Things I Hate About High Blood Sugar

This was originally published here on Hugging the Cactus on April 5, 2019. I’m sharing it again today because this is an evergreen post, the kind that will always ring true for me. These are the things I simply cannot stand about high blood sugar…

High blood sugar, high bg, hypergycemia, sky high…whatever you want to call high blood sugar, it doesn’t change how I feel about it. I hate it. My loathing of high blood sugar is probably not unique among other T1Ds – I’m sure most would agree that it’s the worst – but on a recent and particularly bad day of high blood sugars, I started thinking about why I hate being high so much and it turned into this blog post…which turned into a very cathartic thing for me to write.What do you hate about high blood sugar?

What are the eight things that I hate about high blood sugar? Here they are…

#1: It makes me thirsty. This reference may be lost on some of my readers, but to those who get it, it’ll be wildly funny (or at least it will be in my mind): *Parched Spongebob Squarepants voice* “Waaaaaaaaater! I neeeeeeeeed it!” When my blood sugar is high, I basically turn into that shriveled-up version of Spongebob that appeared in the episode in which he visits Sandy the squirrel’s treedome for the first time. He doesn’t realize that, being a mammal, Sandy doesn’t depend on water like he does to be able to live/breathe. Hence, he struggles throughout the episode to stay hydrated. I bet that if he were dealing with a high blood sugar at the same time, his desperation for water would become much more dire…because let me tell you, I simply cannot drink enough of it when my blood sugar is above 200. This results in many trips to the bathroom, and as I’m sure you can imagine, it’s pretty annoying.

#2: It turns me into a major grump. Nothing kills a good mood quite as swiftly as high blood sugar…I don’t like admitting it, but I tend to snap at people when my blood sugar’s elevated. So really, it’s a lose-lose situation for everyone.

#3: It’s a weight on my shoulders. If my blood sugar is high, I can’t help but wonder what I did wrong to make it so. Did I miscalculate my carbs? Should I have given myself more insulin? Should I have timed my exercise better? Is my insulin pump work properly? The list of questions and possible answers are practically endless, and it weighs heavily on me when I’m dealing with an inexplicable high.

#4: It’s disruptive. When my blood sugar is high for a prolonged period of time, I can’t focus on anything else but that. I’ll do anything and everything I can to take my mind off it and just let my corrective insulin dose go to work, but I can’t help but worry. This can be especially disruptive when I’m trying to get work done at my desk job, or when I’m trying to enjoy a night out with friends. It can suck the joy out of any situation, and that can be incredibly disheartening.

#5: It doesn’t get along with exercise. High blood sugar is weird, because sometimes it cooperates with exercise, and other times it reacts very badly to it. I find that if I workout at 250 or below, my blood sugar responds wonderfully to the movement and it’ll drop my blood sugar down to a better level much faster than insulin. But if I dare to workout above 250, then things can go terribly wrong and my blood sugar will go up even more. I learned that lesson the hard way in college, when I went to a high-intensity spinning class…I was so nervous about going low in the middle of the class that I overcompensated with a pre-workout snack. So over the course of the class, my blood sugar shot up to 300 due to the strenuous exercise coupled with the extra carbs. Not fun.

#6: It makes my CGM wail. I appreciate the alarms on my CGM, but NOT when they go off over and over and OVER again. It feels like my CGM is judging me for being high and it couldn’t be more obnoxious…and I just want to throw my device across the room to get it to shut up.

#7: It prevents me from eating when I’m hungry. I don’t always want to eat when my blood sugar is high, but occasionally, high blood sugar coincides with mealtimes and I end up staring longingly at food while I wait for my blood sugar to stabilize at a better level. Depending on when the high happens and how badly I wanted to eat some food, I can get very hangry (angry AND hungry), which is never a good state of mind to be in.

#8: It’s stubborn. The worst part about high blood sugar is that sometimes, it feels like it takes FOREVER for it to come back down. During the waiting period, anxiety, irritation, and anger are all emotions that can manifest themselves within me. And it sucks. The mental games that high blood sugar can play with me are straight-up cruel, and since a high can be so damn stubbornly slow to respond to insulin, it makes it that much harder to handle…which is why, I can say with 100% certainty, that I hate high blood sugars with a bloody passion.

When Carbs Collide with a Bent Cannula, Chaos Ensues

Sushi. Wine. Not one, but two slices (I swear they were slivers, honest) of cake. A pod with a cannula that got bent out of shape accidentally due to clumsiness.

The above sounds like some sort of weird laundry list, but it’s really just all the factors that contributed to a night of high blood sugars and relative sleeplessness.

Let me explain what happened: The night started out fabulously! I got sushi for dinner from a local spot that I was trying for the first time. I was excited about it because sushi is a rare treat for me, and I figured the occasion warranted some wine – my first glass(es) that I’ve had in about 2 months (I gave it up for Lent).

Those two things right there are definitely a “dangerous” duo that can cause carbohydrate calculation errors or prolonged blood sugars, but I tucked that in the back of my mind because I wasn’t done with indulgences for the evening.

I want to say I regret nothing about this carb-o-licious evening, but…

That’s right, I kept up with the carb-loading by enjoying some cake (white chocolate blueberry cake that I made myself that is just as decadent as it sounds) soon after dinner was done. My problem is that I thought I’d curbed the impact of the carbs by setting a temporary basal increase and stacking a small amount of my insulin, but no such luck. I’d destroyed my second piece (it was just a tiny sliver, people) and noticed that I was creeping up. I took more insulin and soon forgot about my high blood sugar as I immersed myself in episode after episode of Impractical Jokers, which, side note: It’s a series I just discovered and it’s hilarious cringe comedy that is the perfect thing to watch after a long day.

A handful of episodes later, it was time for bed. Or so I thought…because soon after I was settled in bed, I twisted around in just the right – or in this case, wrong – manner that was rough enough to loosen my pod from its allegedly secure location on my back. The smell of insulin was pungent and indicated to me immediately that the pod would have to be ripped off completely and replaced. And the sooner, the better, because my blood sugar was getting closer and closer to 300…definitely not a level I want to see before I go to sleep.

By 12:30 A.M., the new pod was on my arm and a temp basal increase was running to combat my lingering high blood sugar. I also gave myself yet another bolus and crossed my fingers, hoping that the combination would be enough to bring my levels down overnight.

At around 2 A.M., my PDM started beeping to let me know that it’d been about 90 minutes since the new pod was activated, so in response I woke up to silence it and glance at my CGM. My blood sugar barely budged! Frustrated, I gave myself more insulin and fell back into a restless sleep.

Several hours later, my alarm was blaring, far sooner than I wanted it to. I hit the snooze button, also taking care to check out my CGM yet again before I made an attempt at 15 more minutes of sleep. And guess what – I was still high. Quite high. Not 300, but in the mid-200s.

It was official: My blood sugar was punishing me for my night of careless carb consumption and reckless pod-handling. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the resulting chaos, but at least I was able to restore peace again the next morning…eventually.

Diabetes and Honesty: Don’t be Afraid to Speak Up

It’s said that ignorance is bliss…but as I recently (re)learned, ignorance can cause fear and misunderstanding in times that it’s better to be honest.

The lesson was hammered into my brain after fibbing to my significant other about my blood sugar a couple of weeks ago. It was a Saturday night, we had spent the day moseying around the city, and we were looking forward to a chill evening doing a whole lot of nothing. We decided to get into a collaborative card game while we watched the Red Sox play against kick the Astros’ butts.

As we set up the game, I knew my blood sugar was high. But I ignored it, figuring that my insulin would kick in soon and bring my levels back down to normal. I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be so simple (is ANYTHING ever simple when it comes to diabetes?) because after an hour and a half, no progress was made on the BG front and my mood was worsening as a result of it. My partner, ever-attentive, asked me more than once why I seemed so cross. He even directly asked if it was related to my blood sugar, and I…didn’t exactly tell the truth.

diabetes honesty

Okay, I lied! But it was only because I didn’t want him to worry. I was already worried enough for the two of us. And I thought I was doing the right thing here. I really, truly thought my blood sugar would come down in no time at all, and I hate, hate, HATE using anything related to my diabetes as an excuse for my behavior…so rather than admit what I was going through, I brushed it off, which only exacerbated everything. Not my proudest moment.

As the night went on, we got deeper into the game and my blood sugar climbed higher. I was beyond agitated at this point, and my heart certainly wasn’t into the game. Besides neglecting to open up about my blood sugar problems, I’m also ashamed of my lack of interest in the card game. In hindsight, the healthy thing to do in this situation would’ve been to have faith in my treatment decisions and try to enjoy myself in the meantime. But I was too caught up in the negative mindset that the high blood sugar put me into, and unfortunately, it marred an otherwise perfectly nice night.

The next day, when my blood sugar situation was back to normal, I came clean to my boyfriend. I think he was a bit irked with me for hiding the truth from him, but I also think that he understood a little more after I explained why.

In this case, diabetes won…at least it did in that brief moment in time. Between ruining my mood and causing a mild rift between me and a loved one, I felt pretty damn defeated by it. In the long run, though, I think this experience will be more of a boon than a bane, because it reinforced the notion of honesty being the best policy – even when it comes to diabetes.

 

A Diagnosis of LDM

What is LDM? According to my mother, it stands for Lovely Diabetes Mystery. The “lovely”, of course, is sarcastic, whereas the “diabetes” and “mystery” relate to a random, unforeseen diabetes medical incident – which occurred to me on Sunday, October 7th.

I woke up that morning with some abdominal pain. I rolled over soon after waking to check my CGM, and was startled to see that I’d be in the 300s for most of the night as I was sleeping. I quickly bolused for it using my PDM, and shut my eyes, hoping to get some more rest and to wake up again without stomach discomfort.

No such luck. About an hour later, I opened my eyes and looked at my PDM again, and I had barely come down. I tested to confirm, and sure enough, I’d only gone down a few points. I was worried, which was exacerbated by the weird nausea I was having. Could this be a sign of something more serious?

My mother convinced me to do a manual injection with a syringe. We both figured that that would help bring my numbers down faster, and that if I started coming down quickly, then it could mean that the pod I had just applied the day before was not working properly. We agreed that I should probably change it, to err on the side of caution.

However, I didn’t get to change my pod until much later in the day. That’s because of what happened soon after I took my manual injection.

I went to use the bathroom, certain that the churning of my stomach meant that I was about to be sick. I was standing in front of the toilet when I started sweating – profusely. On top of that, my vision went all fuzzy, and I felt totally disoriented. I knew something was wrong, so I called out for help.

My mom raced into the bathroom to find me seated on the floor, dripping in sweat. I placed myself on the floor deliberately because I was worried I might pass out and injure myself. She started cooling me down with a wet facecloth, and searched through the drawers to find a thermometer to check my temperature. She also grabbed her test kit and my lancing device, because naturally, we both assumed that perhaps my blood sugar was dropping rapidly from the insulin injection, and it might be a hypoglycemic event.

But when we checked my blood sugar, I was still in the high 200s. I was pretty scared at this point and just wanted the sweating to stop and for my vision to clear. That’s when my dad came in and made the executive decision to call an ambulance for me.

A police officer, three firefighters, and two EMTs showed up my house. I answered questions in my confused state. My vision restored and the sweating stopped, but I still felt weak and woozy. They put me into the ambulance. I was given an IV bag and medication for the nausea. It was my first time in an ambulance and it was not exciting, just weird. I didn’t like riding backwards or experiencing the twists and turns along the way.

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I was bored in the hospital; so naturally, I created this boomerang of my IV drip.

We arrive to the hospital. I’m whisked away into the ER. I answer a series of questions from various medical students and nurses and doctors. They draw blood for tests. I give them a urine sample for more testing. I keep on explaining the concept of my OmniPod to each one of them. No one seems to have seen it before, besides one med student who has a sister who works for Insulet. Small world!

We monitor my blood sugar closely. My tests come back normal. I eat my first foods for the day around 2 P.M.: sugar-free jello and two hard-boiled eggs. Yum…

I get an injection of insulin at the hospital. We don’t have a vial of Humalog with us – it was the one thing we forgot to grab from the house. But my dad drives home to retrieve it so I can change my pod at the hospital. My mom does it for me. I feel helpless.

The old pod comes off and we notice a definite bend in the cannula. Okay. One thing explained. I wasn’t receiving my full insulin dosages due to the bend, and unfortunately, I have no way of knowing how much insulin I was truly receiving. All I know is that it wasn’t enough, and that’s why I was running high.

I receive a diagnosis: vasovagal syncope, or pre-syncope. It’s explained to me, but I still don’t really get it. So I text my best friend, who is also a nurse. She tells me that it’s very common and can be triggered by a variety of things. The pre-syncope aspect makes more sense to me, seeing as I never truly passed out.

I’m discharged and feel so very tired. It was a long day. The following days are filled with follow-ups and message exchanges between myself, my endocrinologist, and my primary care physician. My healthcare team and I think that we come up with a plausible explanation for the hullabaloo: My body knew something was wrong. It knew that my blood sugar was abnormally high, and it knew to send signals to me that I needed to take care of it. Hence, the abdominal pain. My dehydrated state exacerbated things, and when I started sweating and lost more fluids, it was a lot for my body to experience.

Sheesh. What an ordeal. Like any diabetes-related experience, it taught me a lot, but I certainly don’t want anything like that to happen again. Shout-out to the healthcare professionals, but especially my parents, for taking damn good care of me throughout the whole episode. You’re the bomb diggity.