HIGH, and the sly
While I’ve been working like a dog on preparing photographic images for entry into the local Photography Arts exhibit of the NM State Fair . . . Wait; what lightweight ever came up with such a lame phrase? It doesn’t approximate today’s cushy lives of most family dogs (like my 18-20 hours-a-day sleeping whippets), so I’ll start over and say . . .
While I’ve been working like a mad dog (yes, that captures my recent workflow perfectly!) on preparing photographic images for entry into the local Photo Arts exhibit of the NM State Fair . . . I’ve been stressing. Didn’t even stop to think, in the time spent editing my images into the wee hours of the morning (lots of finishing up at 2:00, 3:00, even 4:00 a.m. over the last two weeks), that my body would have been much happier with its customary routine of plopping into bed by 1 a.m. Yeah, I know that sounds crazily late for anyone who’s an eager earlybird riser, but 1 a.m. is typically perfect for me!
So pressing on to extend my working hours has had a few repercussions not well accepted by me. Definitely not easily digestible by my endocrinologist or medical team–not that I’m gonna give myself up to them just yet. I know, down the road, that the HA1C (the gold-standard 3-month measure for checking on the average amount of glucose bonded to my cells over that time period) will rat me out just fine.
So I’ve found myself trying to logically analyze how to control and bring down those HIGH blood sugars of 375, 400, 450 and upward (geez; they’re almost medal-worthy, really, in that I just try to keep plugging on despite getting such high readings). My thoughts and actions have traveled along this line: Switch out to a new infusion set/pump-despite having just changed it two days ago. Throw away that bottle of nearly new insulin and open a new one; somehow, the insulin must have gone bad. Uh-oh; I’m starting to be insulin-resistant (not a good circumstance for anyone but definitely the pits for someone with Type 1). That is, I’m struggling to implement a logical plan to bring my sugars down when they’re not so high that I succumb to sleep against my will.
Have any of these pro-active decisions helped? A little, and too little. But I’ve learned to be grateful for every little miracle in everyday life.
But why no real turn-around? And then it dawned on me; the sneaky slinking culprit. STRESS. There is no logical comfortable meaningful way to combat the effects of stress, except by getting rid of it. So finally, today, I can say I cast this one culprit out the door. Photos, all photoshopped, are turned in! Stress-b-gone . . . blood sugar just now b creeping downward . . . until the next event.
B well, b happy. Until next time, Kathy
