Today was crappy. I woke up when Dante did at TEN F-ING FIFTEEN AM and took my fasting blood sugar like a good monkey. Made breakfast, and after my first bite, remembered my meds and took them. I was pleasantly surprised when I had a glucose level an hour later of 134, and put Dante back to bed. Then I decided that I needed a nap, too, so I took one.
Woke up about an hour and a half later sweating and shaking. I had a horrible nightmare that just kept repeating over and over again. I got up and Dante was screaming, but my hands were shaking, and I realized it was my blood sugar. I could barely walk, my eyes couldn't focus, and I snapped. First I tried to eat crackers, but then I saw Hubby's cookies, and I grabbed a handful and a huge glass of milk. Before I downed the cookies and milk, my glucose was at 67. Too damn low, in my book. I had to let my poor baby scream for 45 minutes as I tried to get back to normal. At the 45 minute mark, I took my blood sugar and it was 119. What in the...?
So I got Dante up and called my doc's office, and her medical assistant called me back, I told her what happened, and she suggested peanut butter to get me back to normal as opposed to cookies. About an hour later, I felt it plummet AGAIN. So Dante and I polished off a whole small cantaloupe and I had a ham sandwich, and I was ok again. He went down for another nap, and I felt it slip for a third time, so I toasted a freezer waffle and dipped it in peanut butter. I'm now wide awake, sore, and I feel like a zombie. It's very weird.
So now I get to reheat what I made for dinner last night (Mole and rice) and I may call it an early night. Not like it matters. I wake up every two hours like clockwork to hit the loo and the Tums. It's horrible. I know it's training, but I really think it's Mother Nature's way of telling me that it sucks to be me. Grrr.
I'd rather be sleep deprived cuddling a cute baby than sleep deprived and waddling to the loo. Maybe I'm weird.