If going in for HGa1C blood work is like going into a final exam, a meeting with the endocrinologist is like being sent to the principal’s office. I know it shouldn’t feel that way, I’m in excellent control, but I think that mindset dates back to the many years when I wasn’t in good control and would get that disapproving look from doctor after doctor after doctor. And so today, the day before meeting with my ever so hot diabetic specialist (there’s a reason I chose this guy beyond his smart brain) I was, honestly, freaking out. In fact, I have stress pimples on my forehead to prove it! Oh. Joy.
The last time I saw him, I think it was eight months ago, I got a stellar review, so good in fact, I still remember exactly what he told me: “These are numbers to grow old with,” in reference to my 6.6 HGa1C reading. That’s a lot to live up to. And so, I rightfully spent the day fretting about what my three-month BG average would reveal, and about what I may be doing wrong, or may not being doing at all, and the fact that once again, despite promising to be more cognizant this time around, I neglected to keep an up-to-date record of my daily blood sugar readings, and was again left scrambling the night before trying to figure out how to download them onto my computer. (At least I didn’t have to go all old school and write them out like I used to on the drive into the appointment.) … I may have also fretted a little about what to wear and how to do my hair; you got to look good going into the hot doctor’s office 😉
- 6:15 p.m. BG before: 8.7
- Temp. basal: None (I had a real low blood sugar about an hour and a half earlier and knew that my blood sugars would be rebounding from the juice and granola bar)
- Time: 1 hour
- 7:30 p.m. BG after: 9.1 (BG correction: .95 unit)
Sooooo, remember how about a month and a half ago I had a bone scan done on my inept ankles? And how my body was pumped full of nuclear smurf juice? And how there were all these signs about what you could and couldn’t do post poison? Well, nothing in there said I couldn’t bring my insulin pump in with me. So imagine my surprise when I was flipping through the pump guidebook on the weekend trying to figure out how to sync my pump with my metre and came across the caution page (a page I will admit I may have neglected to read the last pump around) and learned I kind of, sort of, maybe should NOT have had my pump on during the MRI, and in fact, I should NOT have even taken the pump into the room with me … maybe that’s why I was having blood sugars issues for awhile there? Oops … good thing I got a brand spanking new pump!
And now, I leave you with good news. Spring, my friends, has finally arrived. It’s still chilly out, significantly cooler than past years, but the fact that the field of daffodils down the road from my parents is in full bloom, and the skies are battling back and forth between the sweet, luscious, clear-blue, angelic skies to the dark, vicious, angry, doom-and-gloom thunder and lightening skies is proof. As is the fact that Mario went on his first post-dinner ride of the season this evening.
What is spring for you?