The Missing PDM (and the Panic That Followed)

12:55 A.M. I wake up from a deep sleep to the sound of my CGM going off: My blood sugar had just gone above my high threshold. I silence the alert and reach for my PDM so I can give myself a small correction bolus. But it’s not in its usual spot on my nightstand.

12:56 A.M. I tumble out of bed and wander into the living room. Surely, I left my PDM somewhere out here. I dig through my backpack, check the coffee table, and look for it on the counter tops in the kitchen. I can’t find it in any of those locations.

12:57 – 1:00 A.M. I’m searching all over the apartment, like a mad woman now. I’m checking in between couch cushions, inside cabinets, and underneath furniture at a lightning-fast pace. My heart is beating rapidly as I wonder where the actual eff my PDM could be. I shake my sleep and bemused partner awake, fill him in on the situation, and enlist his help in the search. He only has a vague idea of what the PDM looks like (I have too many devices for him to be able to distinguish the difference between them) and isn’t much help, but he does offer a tip: Check the car.

1:00 – 1:03 A.M. I run down four flights of stairs and into the parking garage where my boyfriend’s car is parked. Maybe it fell out of my backpack on our way to trivia at a restaurant earlier that evening? I rifled through the passenger seat, checking underneath it and even in the backseat, but no luck.

The Missing PDM (and the Panic That Followed)
A post all about a terrifying 20-minute period in which my PDM was…MIA.

1:04 – 1:07 A.M. I practically break out in a cold, panicked sweat as I contemplate the possibility that I took my PDM out at the restaurant and it’s still there. I knew for a fact that I hadn’t used my PDM for anything since I’d eaten dinner hours before at the apartment, but it was worth calling the restaurant to see if they’d found anything. I called, knowing the odds of anyone answering at this hour were slim…only to be proven wrong! I was relieved when a man picked up, and I hastily explained to him the situation. I provided a description of my PDM and waited with bated breath while he searched the area in which my team had sat to play trivia.

1:08 – 1:11 A.M. Crushing disappointment crashes over me like stormy ocean waves as the man tells me, after a prolonged search, that he couldn’t find my PDM. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Numbly, I recited my contact information over the phone, thanked him for his time, and hung up. I was beyond panicked now. My boyfriend was asking me about a contingency plan and all I wanted to do was scream at him, my OmniPod IS my contingency plan!!!!!!!! I start formulating a plan to drive to the restaurant first thing in the morning to search the premises myself, as well as call Insulet and beg them to overnight a new PDM. Maybe I would just have to stick to manual injections the entire next day, though I had no idea what I’d do about long-acting insulin since the Lantus sitting in the fridge expired months ago.

1:12 – 1:14 A.M. My mind was in overdrive and I refused to give up right then and there. I was absolutely certain that I hadn’t taken my PDM out since my dinnertime bolus. But since I did go out that night, there were really only one of three places it could be: the apartment, the car, or the restaurant. It definitely wasn’t in the apartment, which I’d searched so thoroughly that it looked like a tornado had whipped through it, but it was worth searching the car one more time…just to be positive.

1:15 A.M. I make my way back down to the parking garage. I turn my cell phone’s flashlight feature on and scan the seats carefully, peeking under and over and around every possible surface…I didn’t see a damn thing. Defeated, I turned to close the passenger side door when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a gray object wedged between the door would be when it was slammed shut and the seat. It was practically camouflaged, that’s how well it blended with its surroundings. It was…MY PDM!!!

“Relieved” doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. “Elated”, “victorious”, and “exhausted” are all better descriptors. I ran back up to the apartment, told my boyfriend, and breathed a deep sigh, glad that the entire episode had a happy ending. We settled back into bed, though I lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time afterwards. If I hadn’t double checked the car, my boyfriend would’ve just driven off to work the next day, both of us oblivious to the fact that my PDM was there. I would’ve wasted time trying to track it down at the restaurant and calling Insulet, and there probably would’ve been a lot more frustration felt and tears shed.

But thank goodness it didn’t come down to that.

The end results of the missing PDM episode was 1) losing a decent night of sleep, 2) feeling an urgent need to establish a better contingency plan, and 3) feeling an even more pressing need to install a tracking device in that damn PDM, stat…because that thing is just too easy to lose.

Stress: The Root of my Diabetes Problems

My summer hasn’t gone as I imagined it would.

I’ve had a lot of unexpected shit to deal with. I prefer not to get into details, because too much of my time and thoughts have been preoccupied by aforementioned shit. In the grand scheme of things, though, I have enough common sense to acknowledge that the shit I’ve dealt with isn’t too terrible…I’ll be able to learn and grow from it, ultimately.

In fact, I’ve already started taking in a lesson it’s taught me about diabetes and stress.

Before all this stuff started happening, I knew that stress could affect blood sugar levels. But I guess I never gave much thought as to how long or how dramatically it could affect blood sugar levels.

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This image of Dwight Schrute basically sums up how I feel lately.

Unfortunately, I found out firsthand how much havoc stress can wreak on blood sugars. I received some stressful news one Monday afternoon and had to combat high blood sugars between then and dinnertime. Into the evening, I was munching on a bunch of different snacks – I tend to stress eat – so I chalked up the resulting high blood sugars to my lack of restraint.

When the high blood sugars continued for three straight days, though, I knew something was wrong. I’d eat meals that I’d had plenty of times before, and contend with elevated blood sugars for hours after. I’d give myself bolus after bolus, sometimes even stacking insulin, and my blood sugar would barely budge. It was maddening, seeing my levels hover stubbornly in the 190-240 mg/dL range. It was only when I started bolusing very aggressively for food and increasing my temp basal that I finally got a reprieve from high blood sugars.

This whole ordeal has taught me that I’ve grossly underestimated stress when it comes to its impact on diabetes management and blood sugar levels. Not only does stress drive my blood sugar levels up, but it also makes it that much harder for me to confidently manage my diabetes, overall. It’s very sneaky in how it attacks blood sugar and, frustratingly, there’s never any surefire way of telling when my diabetes will calm down again when I’m undergoing a stressful situation.

Maybe this is a sign that I’ve got to find a better way to cope with stress. Meditation, yoga, exercise, more self-care…I’ve definitely been slacking on all of that lately. Just like I won’t be underrating how stress affects my diabetes any time soon, I’ll also remember to take into account how beneficial it is to just…relax.

 

 

3 Things I Learned About T1D From my 10-Hour Road Trip

What do you do when a road trip that’s only supposed to last 7 hours turns into a 10 hour trek?

The answer isn’t cry, or whine, or freak the eff out. The answer is to roll with the punches…because you have no other choice.

At least that’s the way I saw it when my journey from Virginia to Massachusetts dragged out from 9 A.M. to 7 P.M. a couple of Fridays ago.

As someone who loathes driving, I was dreading this trip. But I knew it was important for me to conquer a fear of long-distance driving, as well as bring my car back to Massachusetts for a cutting-it-close car inspection. Plus, driving is much cheaper than flying, and you can’t beat the convenience of loading up your car with as much crap as you need to pack.

So I made myself do it, and besides teaching myself that I can handle a longer road trip, I also learned three interesting things about my diabetes from the many hours I spent in my car:hugging the cactus - a t1d blog.png

1. My diabetes doesn’t like for me to stay idle for so long.

This trip was an excellent reminder of how much my body and my diabetes rely on me to get up and move throughout the day. Throughout the workweek, I tend to get up from my desk chair at least once every hour, if only to stretch my legs. But that frequency of movement must make a difference, because I only visited a rest stop once during the full 10 hour trip. It felt awesome to move around for a few minutes, but I was eager to get back on the road and didn’t walk much while I was at the rest stop. Now, I’m wondering if I should factor that into my next long drive, but the idea of taking too many rest stops and prolonging my travel time is not exactly favorable to me…unless it means that my diabetes is guaranteed to be better behaved.

2. My diabetes is better behaved when I eat regular meals.

I eat a lot throughout the day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and at least two snacks are part of my daily meal plan. I typically eat all three meals and two snacks around the same times each day, to boot, so my diabetes depends on that consistency. It’s no wonder that I was dealing with rebelliously high blood sugars for most of my drive home, because I was fueling myself with absolute garbage: chicken nuggets (and only chicken nuggets for lunch), Fritos for a snack, and a granola bar for ANOTHER snack. In hindsight, it would’ve been much easier for me to pack a healthy lunch and maybe an additional, in-case-of-emergency snack, because I could’ve had a low-carb option available to me whenever I was ready for it. Plus, chicken nuggets and Fritos are things that I rarely consume, so of course my blood sugar wasn’t loving them.

3. My diabetes HATES stress.

And my goodness, was I stressed. I hate driving, period, so I doubly hate it when it’s a long distance. And my stress was exacerbated by the fact that I had to transport 60 cupcakes, on ice, back to Massachusetts with me for a bridal shower that I was planning for my cousin. That’s quite a bit to contend with, so it makes sense that my blood sugar shot up within minutes of me hitting the road. Even though I ran temp basals and bolused somewhat aggressively, it didn’t make much of a difference in my levels. And I suppose that I was hesitant to give myself too much insulin while I was behind the wheel, because going low seemed more dangerous and difficult to contend with than going high. Truthfully, though, there’s nothing fun about high or low blood sugar. It doesn’t matter if I’m driving, sleeping, exercising, whatever – anything other than “in-range” is just a pest to me.

So now that I’m aware of these three things, what am I going to do about it? For starters, I’m definitely going to get better about planning my meals for long car trips. I’m also going to try to take it easy a little bit…I put so much pressure on myself (I’m very good at working myself up into hysterics, really). So I might try some mindfulness exercises (e.g., meditating) before the next long drive…because anything I can do to take back control of my diabetes before going on my next one will be worth it.

A Tough Week

It’s like you’re always stuck in second geeeear

When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your yeeeeear!

*Ahem* Oh! Pardon me, I was just singing that line from the Friends (yes, the TV show, of course) opening credits theme song. It describes how I’ve been feeling lately – maybe not for a full year, but most certainly this week.

It all started with high blood sugars. Not just any kind of high blood sugars, but the inexplicable sort of numbers that were happening for no apparent reason. Running temp basals, bolusing, stacking, drinking tons of water, testing for ketones, increasing activity levels, and reducing food intake were all steps that I took in order to combat the highs. But still, it seemed like every time I put food into my mouth, my blood sugar would jump up way too high, even though I was aggressively administering insulin to cover it. I was taking almost double what I should’ve needed to take, with less than stellar results.

I was dumbfounded. And angry. And incredibly stressed over it.

Ah, stress…the possible culprit?

I’m still not sure, but it seems to be the likeliest possibility. I’ve been running around like a mad woman since I returned to Massachusetts for a two-week visit. I’ve been busy planning my cousin’s bridal shower, meeting up with family and friends, going into work at the office Monday-Friday, contending with other health issues (scratched corneas…don’t ask), and calling various companies for health-insurance-related issues. I’ve had little time for myself, so it really isn’t a wonder that stress could be to blame for my hyperglycemic patterns.

That, and my tendency to forget that haste makes waste. Let me present to you the following photo:

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Yep, that’s little old me at my work cubicle, pointing out my barely-hanging-on pod. In my hurry to get to work and start my day, I had removed my tote bag from its spot on my shoulder in a rush. The force from the movement peeled half of my pod up and off my arm, leaving the cannula (mercifully) still stuck under my skin. I was furious at myself because the pod was less than a day old, and I couldn’t bear the idea of tossing it with more than 100 units of precious insulin left inside it. So I did what I could to cobble it back onto the site on my arm with copious amounts of medical tape, cursing myself for being so careless and exacerbating my stress levels.

There’s a lot more I could say and explain when it comes to the level of tough this week has been, but I think it’s time to move on. Life with diabetes means good weeks and bad weeks. The good weeks are to be celebrated, whereas the bad weeks ought to be acknowledged for how physically and emotionally challenging they are, but also for the lessons to be learned from them.

With that said…

It’s been a tough week, but a new one’s right around the corner and I’m determined to make it a good one.