A crapfest of late hours to meet deadlines at work, on top of the load of papers and presentations for my classes, meant the D got moved to the back burner. The waaaaaaay back burner. For the first time since April, I stopped logging. Dinners became popcorn or Luna bars or some leftover Halloween candy someone brought into the office - and those were the good, healthy meals. My meter averages and daily insulin totals skyrocketed, and I was running temp basals half the day to cover blood sugars that didn't want to stay under 140. I went back to full caffeine, worked 12-hour days, fell off the DOC wagon, slept 5 or 6 hours a night, and spontaneously burst into tears one evening while sitting at the computer working on a class project.
Clearly, I was stretched too thin, and taking care of myself dropped to the abysmal bottom of my lengthy to-do list. I know it happens to everyone - not just me, not just PWDs, but truly everyone. But what really pisses me off is just how bad it got. It is tantrum-inducingly unfair that there are repercussions to just living your life, that losing my laserlike focus on diabetes means stewing in my own toxic sludge blood until I get everything under control.
I spent the past five weeks knowing that I wasn't taking care of myself, self-lecturing about getting a grip, and completely dreading yesterday's endo and ophthalmology appointment. How could this be anything but a self-loathing shamefest about how far I'd fallen from my 6.2 in July?
Well, folks, somehow I managed to pull a 5.6 A1C out of the disastrous past 5 weeks. I cried when she told me. Not tears of joy, mind you - more like the kind of emotional freakout you have when you just barely avoid a car accident. Because I know she's all "yay! nice work!" and all I can think is that it can't be right. Or if it is right, it's dishonest. I know what kind of work I was doing, what my Dex graphs looked like, and how I was eating, and it all smacked terribly of pretty dark places I've been before: the aforementioned self-loathing shamefest.
The SLSF - both past and present - is something for another post, though. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it, to figure out what it means and how I can possibly short-circuit it. In the meantime, though, the Month from Hell is over now. I'm dusting off @kahoffman and I'm actually posting to this ol' blog - if I've learned nothing else in my weeks away, it's that my connection to the DOC is incredibly important and dreadfully underestimated by yours truly. Knowing you're all out there - doing #bgwed, talking about gushers, trading tips, and wishing for cupcakes just like I am - does more for me than logging and endos and all the "being good" in the world.