I messed up big, big time last night. I thought I was ready to attempt to cover pizza with insulin, but my body thought otherwise and I payed the price – mentally, physically and in cash at the rate of the eight dollars worth of Freestyle test strips I used testing and re-testing on my backup meter. I struggled the rest of the night to get back down from the high 200s. I was injecting directly (no I-Port in the equation – I’d attempted an upper-backside install but it left me in tears so I threw it away) yet it was as if the insulin couldn’t keep up with the digesting pizza (or my lack of patience). It was getting late so I set my alarm to wake me up an hour and a half after I went to sleep so I could check and make sure I wasn’t still high or going too low too fast, and it was back down to 140, so I gave up and went back to sleep because I was too tired to change my suspect Humalog cartridge and I knew my own basal insulin would eventually take care of the rest anyway.
I woke up this morning with an elevated fasting of 108, but I was ready to start clean – clean diet, exercise, new insulin cartridge, new I-Port… but I can’t get my head in the right place. I’m mad at myself and don’t feel like doing anything productive, and I am dreading the blood sugar see-saw that I’ll likely experience today. Writing about my mistakes always helps me move on, so now that I’ve confessed, I’ll make myself go lift some weights and try to make up for whatever horrible things I did to my poor body with that (to borrow a word from Monday) insidious pizza last night – which, by the way, left even my non-diabetic husband at 130 mg/dl an hour and a half after! How did I stand a chance? 😛