It’s been a hellish week for me and given that it’s only Wednesday, that’s saying quite a bit. Last Thursday, I had the benefit of going out for drinks and games with some associates of mine. For anyone who knows me, that’s a rare and unusual occurrence for me. As much as I immerse myself in time at home and running errands, it’s nice to occasionally grab a pint and let one’s hair down. Conceptually speaking, of course. I’m bald. But it was a god evening of a couple of pint of white IPA (my colleague’s idea) and a platter of appetizers, couple by unlimited access to games and challenges. We spent only a few hours before I made my way home to crash. All seemed right with the world.
Over the past decade, I’ve come to learn that having Type-1 Diabetes shouldn’t prevent you from enjoying the things in life that everyone else does. That’s a pretty broad statement and one that, while certainly applicable, doesn’t always work out the way we want. Even if my endocrinologist tells me I can enjoy that large wedge of chocolate cake thanks to my insulin pump doesn’t mean that it won’t completely fuck with my blood sugars while the insulin is trying to catch up. Some of it is timing, some of it is calculating carbs and some of it is just plain ol’ luck. But on occasion, there’s just no accounting for the uncertainties. A plate of random appetizers is extremely difficult to carb-count.
I woke up at about 2 in the morning with blood sugars reading at about 30 mmol/L. Yes, you read that right. Fuckin’ 30! For you non-Diabetics out there, normal range is between 5.0 to 7.0 mmol/L so sitting at 30 involves a whole slew of bad bullshit that happens inside the body. And outside, if you include the vomiting. But we’ll get to that. I got home at about 8:30 pm on Thursday evening and my CGM sensor expired. Just my luck. Since it takes about two hours for a fresh sensor to warm-up and calibrate, I was in for a bit of a late evening. Nonetheless, I charged the transmitter, grabbed a shower (bare abdomens mean Diabetic happy showers) and installed the new sensor. I calibrated around 11:00 pm and hit the sack, exhausted at having actually gone out into public and done things. I anticipated going into work the following morning.
On the Friday morning, I did my usual thing, which includes hitting the ground running. Since I had showered the previous evening, I had a bit of a head start. I prepped some lunch, packed my work bag and got dressed in casual attire, since it was “jeans Friday.” By the time I got to my office, the veneer of starting my day had worn off and I started to feel it… An intense feeling of nausea and body pain, specifically in the joints and muscles. I got through the start of my daily routine at the office but I was distracted and unable to focus. My boss came in and took one look at me and told me I looked like shit. I couldn’t fault him because he was right. I was an unpleasant shade of grey, sweating through my shirt and felt as though I might pass out.
You may have heard the expression that the shoemakers kids go barefoot… I’ve always been far better at encouraging other to get rest and be healthy than I am at taking care of myself. Oh, I can rock this whole T1D thing like nobody’s business but I tend to fend off and stubbornly press through anything that seems like common symptoms. On this occasion, I chose to take my boss’ advice and packed up to return home. It turned out to be a good idea since, I barely had time to dump my bag and remove my jacket before running to the bathroom and purging the limited contents of my stomach. The pain was unreal. Ai this point, I realized I should lie down. I should point out that I had been spending most of the night bolusing and slowly bringing my blood sugar down. I woke up ayt 14 mmol/L, which is not great but it’s a far cry better than 30.
Over the next 48 hours, I consistently retested my blood sugars, bolused additional amounts to keep bringing my blood sugars down and try to feel better. I sipped ginger ale and sugar-free Gatorade to keep myself hydrated. Given the pain I felt, I knew I was dehydrated but if I had to venture a guess, I’d say I was in some level of ketoacidosis. It wasn’t until about 8 pm on Friday night that my blood sugar had dropped low enough to allow me to have something to eat. I ate sparingly, concerned I would just spew it all up. But it stuck. I changed my infusion set once, believing I was possibly not getting the doses I needed. Absorbtion rates can differ depending on where your infusion set sits or how much scar tissue you have. I also took a couple of manual injections when I realized that despite an empty stomach and plenty of bolusing, my levels didn’t seem to be coming down.
It was a hellish weekend and by Sunday morning, my throat felt raw and on fire. The pain was at a level that was radiating into my ears and head. Acetaminophen had zero effect. No surprise there; it never does for anything I get. I finally went to the pharmacy and got some over-the-counter throat spray. The problem with those sprays is actually having shoot to the back of your throat properly. Yes, I heard it as I typed it. Let’s move on… I eventually moved on to a homeopathic throat syrup that worked far better. A mild, minty-hint of Ibuprofen later, the pain passed just enough that I was able to get some semblance of a night’s sleep on Sunday. Going back into work on Monday was far easier. But the pain was ever-present. Here’s where I start bashing the current state of our health care system. Buckle up…
On Monday afternoon, I attended a walk-in clinic at about 4:15 pm. Pay close attention to the fact I stated it was a WALK IN CLINIC. I was told that walk-ins would only be accepted as of 5 pm. Hmm, interesting and mildly stupid but okay. I offered to give my information and be called in at 5 pm. The receptionist refused, citing my check-in couldn’t be accepted UNTIL 5 pm. Fuck me. So they expected me to cross one of the busiest boulevards in the city during a key traffic point of the day. Say it with me: HAPPEN. NOT. GONNA. I stopped at the next clinic on my route home. This is also a walk-in clinic AND there was a huge decal on the window boasting that the walk-in clinic is open from Monday to Thursday until 7 pm. Another rather important detail to bear in mind.
I walked into this second location and the first thing I noticed is that the lobby was completely empty. It was 4:25 pm. I walked up to the reception counter and presented my health card. When I was asked if I had an appointment, I said no. She explained that they were “no longer accepting walk-ins.” I asked how a walk-in clinic could not accept walk-ins, to which she replied that they were closing shortly. I checked my watch in the event I had suddenly shifted forward in time. She said they were closing at 5 pm and I pointed out that they’re door sign said they were open until 7 pm. She didn’t believe me, despite it being on THEIR FUCKIN’ DOOR!!! I also pointed out that their lobby appeared empty and I just needed five minutes for the doctor to look at my throat and potentially subscribe something. It was unreasonable for them to turn patients away with 35 minutes left to the day. She suggested I go to the other location I had attended as they accept walk-ins as of 5 o’clock.
I managed to get home despite the heated anger building behind my eyes. My recipe of Ibuprofen and throat syrup saw me through another “reasonable” night’s sleep but on Tuesday morning, I attended a couple of meetings where I had to speak through most of it and my throat caught fire. I had had enough. One of my colleagues mentioned a walk-in clinic in the downtown core, which was close. I cleared it with my boss and went down. To my surprise, I got in within 15 minutes. Unfortunately, besides a bit of throat irritation, the doctor didn’t find anything. When I asked why the pain would be so bad and radiating into my ears and head, I was told people manage pain differently. Fuck my life. Because I DON’T routinely get needles in my eyes, have had bleeding ulcers and broken bones. A sore throat is putting me down this hard? I somehow don’t think so.
As of today, the pain has almost disappeared but the throat still stings a bit. The whole blood sugar issue was extreme and is something I never want to go through again. It was also dangerous and rather stupid, on my part. As I get older, recovering from these sort of things is becoming harder and harder. Given the high blood sugars and how long it was taking for it to come down, I likely should have sought emergency medical attention. Woulda, coulda, shoulda… But there were definitely some lessons there, for me. Next time, I might just skip the appetizers. Eating any amount of something I can’t positively crab-count is never ideal. With the weekend coming up, hopefully I fare just a little bit better. Diabetes certainly makes every day interesting. ☯️
The Blogging Buddhist 