Boy, it's sure nice to be back, reading thought-provoking blogs that say things just like I feel, only they say it so much better than I do. I've been in Chicago for the last 3 days, having met up with my best friend SJ who I hadn't seen in 14 months and 15 days. We had a jam-packed trip. I went to the Contemporary Museum of Art alone on Wednesday (I will say no more); Wicked the musical Wednesday night (it was awesome); the Shedd Aquarium and Navy Pier Thursday; swimming in Lake Michigain and the Art Institute on Friday. I had envisioned a free-wheeling, fun, girly time -- no worries, no constraints, just fun. And I did have fun...except that I couldn't leave my diabetes at home.
I ran low all day Thursday because of all the walking we were doing. I suspended my pump; I drank maintenance Pepsi and ate so many Hot Tamales that my tongue hurts and I suspect cold sores are immenent. At my lowest I was 46. But then every morning I'd wake up high, and have to decide: do I do an extra bolus? Do I trust the walking to bring it down?
So really, I came home disheartened. And as I write this with a 322 blood sugar and the feeling that my insides are trying to get out of my skin, all the sugar is jumping around so much, I am even more frustrated. Usually I am a stoic diabetic. I have it. I deal with it. I work with the highs and the lows. I don't wish for a cure, usually. But today I wish I could take it off, like the pump, and travel free for a while. See a city without worries. Walk without having to consume 600 extra calories just to keep me going. Lighten the load and leave some of the baggage behind.