Overtreating

There are a lot of things to think about when dealing with diabetes on a daily basis, even on good days.  Throw a bad day in there, and your brain is even more consumed with diabetes related.. stuff.

As I posted a few days ago, I'm trying to exercise more.  So far so good.  I've only missed one day of Zumba (ok.. two days, but one of those I played Pickleball for two hours instead).  I've managed to walk over 5 miles this week and last week.  These miles are specific miles too, not just my normal everyday steps.

Last Sunday we did quite a bit of yard work.  We planted a new tree, dug out an area of grass that will have pavers instead, and cleaned an area of gravel and put new fabric underneath.  Let me tell you, yard work is better than any type of exercise at finding muscles you forgot you had.  Holy cow!  Ever since then, I've been sore just about everywhere.  I knew that if I just sat and waited to feel better my momentum would be gone, so I still did my daily lunchtime walk and my evening Zumba sessions.  I felt so much better after moving, that I knew I would be back to normal in just a few days....or so I thought.  It will get better.

One of the downsides is overnight blood sugars.  I'm doing better with keeping everything stable.  I'm figuring out which temp basal rates I need to do depending on the circumstances.

The other night, it bit me in the butt.

I tested as I went to bed at 11pm and was 105.  O.D. (my CGM) was showing a sideways arrow, indicating that I was stable.  I had just under a unit of insulin still on board, which was perfect.  I have a tendency to climb right around midnight so that unit wasn't a concern.  Or at least it shouldn't have been.  At about 1:30 I woke up feeling crappy.  I looked at O.D. and all I could see was the bright red LOW.  That means my blood sugars were somewhere under 40.  I stumbled to the kitchen and inhaled a juice pouch and tested right away.  It was 37.  I don't remember everything that I ate.  I know there was an apple, peanut butter, and a glass of milk in there somewhere.  I stood there telling myself, "Don't over treat you will just feel worse in the morning.  Don't over treat. DON'T OVER TREAT!"

I over treated.

I tested again at 2am and was a beautiful 114, so I headed back to bed.  My alarm goes off at 5:45 and I hit snooze.  O.D. then beeps at me that I'm running high, and my husband comments on it.  I quiet the alarm and get up.  I walk out to the kitchen, start the coffee, and test.  That's when I see the carnage on the counter, and the reading to go along with it; 380.  Yuck.  I over treated.

I dosed for breakfast, along with a large correction, and hoped that I would land softly and not continue the glucoaster all day. 

I call this a win.

Diabetes, you may have won that overnight battle, but the war isn't over, and I'm bigger than you.