“Real People” Sick

I’m sick. I’ve just got a cold, but my throat and head are aching so much that it’s knocked the wind out of me.

I spent the weekend confined to my bed, only getting up to blow my nose, use the bathroom, and eat something every now and then…not that I’ve had much of an appetite.

I think this is my body’s way of punishing me. It’s trying to force me to slow down, and I have no choice but to heed its commands.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…I’ve purposely kept myself as busy as possible in the last month. I’m always involved in something, whether it’s making plans with people, distracting myself with a new pet betta fish (his name is Tyrion and I love him), or crafting up a storm (I’m almost done knitting my first sweater and I’ve made two hats within the last two weeks). I’ve had a rough start to the year and unconsciously decided at some point or another that the best way to cope was to not cope at all. Hence, my body is rebelling against me, making it impossible for me to engage in any of the activities that would keep me busy.

And I’m annoyed.

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A sick PWD must have these essentials: a fully loaded test kit and a cup of tea made with honey and lemon. (Don’t forget to bolus.)

The silver lining is that my blood sugar/my diabetes don’t seem to be bothered by the cold. I’m sure my numbers would be better if I was exercising regularly, but that’s to be expected.

So I’m what we, people with diabetes, call “real people” sick: I’m definitely fighting something, but since it’s not affecting my blood sugars, it doesn’t have anything to do with my diabetes. And that’s a relief. Because handling sickness ON TOP OF out-of-control blood sugars/diabetes would be enough to drive me insane right now.

It’s almost nice that my blood sugar isn’t the first thing I’m worried about at the moment; instead, my priority is on relieving the pressure in my head and catching up on sleep. But I admit that it’s also frustrating because slowing down means that all of my other concerns, bothers, and feelings have time to catch up with me.

I guess all I can do now is practice being patient with myself (ha) so I can resume my routine of going from one thing to the next as soon as possible. And hey, I’ve had a genuine excuse to lay in bed and binge-watch Sex and the City for hours, so it can’t be all that bad, right?

Just Breathe

Just breathe…a mantra easier said than done when each breath flows in and out smoothly, instead of in ragged, wheezing gasps.

I’m no stranger to asthma. I dealt with it throughout most of my childhood. The details are blurry on when I experienced my first asthma attack, but all I know is that it left me rasping and feeling (on top of sounding) like the cute little penguin from the Toy Story series, Wheezy.

The only thing that would keep my asthma symptoms at bay was nebulizer treatments. The nebulizer is one of those loud machines that generates vapors – albuterol medicine – that must be breathed in through a mouthpiece. I hated these treatments because they left me feeling shaky for a long time afterward and often caused high blood sugar, but it was much easier and more comfortable to breathe after them…so they were worth it.

Throughout my teenage and most of my young adult years, though, asthma slowly became a distant memory. I experienced it less frequently until it stopped altogether, and suddenly diabetes was the only thing I had to worry about. And I was glad for it.

But then…let’s fast-forward to the week leading up to Christmas. I was busy. I mean, wicked busy. I was running all over the place, jetting from one party to another, interacting with all sorts of people who were bringing germs from all over to each of these merry gatherings. I was getting run down and sleeping less due to the holiday celebrations, so really, it shouldn’t have surprised me when I felt the first tinge of a sort throat in church on Christmas Eve. But when that sore throat was soon followed by a tight chest and a whistling sound whenever I exhaled, I was taken aback – not to mention straight-up annoyed.

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The rescue inhaler that’s been my best buddy the last couple of weeks.

I treated the initial waves of wheeziness with my rescue inhaler. But when that started to be less effective over shorter and shorter lengths of time, I knew I needed to get in touch with my primary care doctor. So I did, and I met with a nurse practitioner who diagnosed me with something new: reactive airway disease. I left the office feeling shell-shocked over a new diagnosis that would mean that I would have to use a different kind of inhaler twice daily for the next two weeks.

I was afraid to start it for many reasons, but the two biggest ones were 1) I was nervous it would make my blood sugar go up and 2) it can cause thrush (also known as an oral yeast infection, which sounds positively nightmarish) if I forget to rinse my mouth out with water after each dose.

Overall, though, it doesn’t sound like too big of a deal, right? If it helps my breathing, it shouldn’t be an issue to add this inhaler into my morning and evening routines.

Silly old me, however, did turn this into a big deal. I wasted far too much time fretting over this inhaler and saying “woe is me” for having to deal with yet another medication that was extremely expensive (I paid $56.83 for the darn thing…I have no idea what the total would have been if I was uninsured).

My logical self knows that this won’t do any good. So now, I’m getting my act together and just rolling with the punches.

I’m trying to gently remind myself…just breathe.

 

Managing Diabetes When Sick

This post initially appeared on Hugging the Cactus on February 26, 2018. Since I’ve already dealt with two bouts of congestion and coughing this cold and flu season, I figured it was appropriate to republish this post to remind myself of my philosophy when I’m run down with illness: Don’t push myself and give my body time to rest as much as it needs in order to get better faster. 

The inevitable finally happened: I caught a cold. It really didn’t surprise me, because 1) it’s cold season and 2) I’ve been running around like a mad woman the past couple weeks and missing out on sleep.

Though it was expected, it certainly wasn’t welcome. I can’t stand being limited with my activity levels, and it’s been tough enough to get by recently due to my broken arm. Alas, I spent about three full days doing nothing but sleeping and binge watching Gilmore Girls as I nursed myself back to health.

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My best friend during my cold? This box of tissues.

During this time, I was extra concerned about my blood sugar levels. They tend to be better when I’m active, so I was worried about how they would fare when I was moving so little.

I admit that I probably did the wrong thing by not eating much during this time. It seemed like I needed to pump myself up with a heftier dose of insulin any time I was eating a meal, likely to compensate for the lack of movement. Even so, I seemed to spike a little too much for my liking after meals. So I really cut back on food. In hindsight, it wasn’t my best move, because even when I did eat it was not healthy (few fruits/veggies, mostly breads and fats).

But I do give myself credit for staying hydrated – a crucial step in getting better. I drank so much water, Powerade, and tea that I felt like I was constantly taking trips to the bathroom. It was worth it, though, because it’s easy to become dehydrated when sick and make a bad situation worse.

Also, I think I made the right move by taking some sick time from work. The day I woke up with a tingly throat, I thought I could soldier on and work a full day, but it became clear the moment I sat down at my desk and couldn’t focus that it would be best to just go home. I took a sick day the following day and was able to work from home the day after that, so I’m grateful that I have a flexible and understanding employer who knows that health is a priority over everything else.

As much as I loathed being mostly confined to my room for 72 hours, it was the smart call. It reminded me how important it is to listen to my body and to not push it when I’m not feeling 100%. There’s no shame in self-care.

Managing Diabetes When Sick

The inevitable finally happened: I caught a cold. It really didn’t surprise me, because 1) it’s cold season and 2) I’ve been running around like a mad woman the past couple weeks and missing out on sleep.

Though it was expected, it certainly wasn’t welcome. I can’t stand being limited with my activity levels, and it’s been tough enough to get by recently due to my broken arm. Alas, I spent about three full days doing nothing but sleeping and binge watching Gilmore Girls as I nursed myself back to health.

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My best friend during my cold? This box of tissues.

During this time, I was extra concerned about my blood sugar levels. They tend to be better when I’m active, so I was worried about how they would fare when I was moving so little.

I admit that I probably did the wrong thing by not eating much during this time. It seemed like I needed to pump myself up with a heftier dose of insulin any time I was eating a meal, likely to compensate for the lack of movement. Even so, I seemed to spike a little too much for my liking after meals. So I really cut back on food. In hindsight, it wasn’t my best move, because even when I did eat it was not healthy (few fruits/veggies, mostly breads and fats).

But I do give myself credit for staying hydrated – a crucial step in getting better. I drank so much water, Powerade, and tea that I felt like I was constantly taking trips to the bathroom. It was worth it, though, because it’s easy to become dehydrated when sick and make a bad situation worse.

Also, I think I made the right move by taking some sick time from work. The day I woke up with a tingly throat, I thought I could soldier on and work a full day, but it became clear the moment I sat down at my desk and couldn’t focus that it would be best to just go home. I took a sick day the following day and was able to work from home the day after that, so I’m grateful that I have a flexible and understanding employer who knows that health is a priority over everything else.

As much as I loathed being mostly confined to my room for 72 hours, it was the smart call. It reminded me how important it is to listen to my body and to not push it when I’m not feeling 100%. There’s no shame in self-care.