The Stress of Exhaustion

I don’t remember moving ever being this stressful.

We moved a lot growing up, by the time I had graduated high school I had lived in 6 different cities in 3 different countries. I had lived on the east coast, the west coast, and by the time I was in my mid-20s I had even lived places in between. 

My mother always coordinated the moves, and always managed to pack up an entire house, bribe three children into packing, start getting angry at three children who still hadn’t packed yet and the movers were coming in two days. She found houses, got utilities set up, and in one case even drove from one end of the Trans Canada highway to the other with three kids in tow and nothing but an early-90s bag phone and three Weird Al Yankovic cassette tapes between her and insanity.

Now that I’m trying to get a move together I fully understand what she went through and I now truly appreciate her efforts. Because I have done everything for this move.

I’m the one who set up house viewings and drove 9 hours with an infant in tow to look at them.

I’m the one who set up the utilities.

I’m the one packing the boxes.

I’m the one coordinating getting stuff up there.

I’m the one concerned with transferring health and car insurance and setting up renters insurance.

I’m the one looking at changing banks.

I’m the one looking for a job.

It’s starting to get to me. I walked into my mother’s house after a few days spent at the in-law’s and I started to freak out.

A complete, total, trembling, unable to breathe freak out.

I have until a week from Friday to get all the stuff together. Get everything packed. Make sure I have all the stuff from this house that I want to take north with me and will need in the new house. And before next Friday, I still have to wrangle a baby, read a chapter of anthropology, complete two modules in the course, take a final, go to a doctor’s appointment about a suspected UTI or kidney stone, hydrate like a champ and receive an IVIG infusion.

My to-do list is on my full-length mirror and takes up the entire thing, with extras added on in the margins. One of those little extras:



Easier said than done.

I know that freaking out does me no good. I know that it raises my blood sugars and lowers my immune defenses. But I can’t help but worry. I can’t help but be concerned over getting everything done that I need to get done.

It doesn’t help that I’m not getting much in the way of support from Lord Imp, save him taking the baby from me up to his parents so that I can focus on getting things done, but while taking the baby out of town does free me up to get things accomplished, it in and of itself doesn’t lessen the burdens any. Part of the issue is that I really don’t think he understands what we’re doing here. I don’t think he understands that we’re not going to school, we are moving. As in, picking up our lives and transplanting them to the Keweenaw. Which I just had to Google to  make sure I’m spelling it correctly.

I wish he understood that the reason why I do everything so far in advance is because I don’t have the energy to leave things to the last minute like he does. He’s an engineer, engineers by definition leave everything until the night before it’s due. I can’t do that, my body just doesn’t let me. I have to spread everything out so that I don’t use up all my spoons for the next month before everything is done. Shit, I start writing papers a month before they’re due.

I’m exhausted and in desperate need of some R&R. But I don’t have the time to take it. I don’t have the time to sit on my butt and relax and get everything done that I need to get done. I really need it though, I’m tired and in pain and running out of immunoglobulin (although that bit is really just me being overly dramatic). My blood sugars are all over the damn map, after my pseudo panic attack I spent several hours over 200 mg/dL before I crashed back down in a dramatic fashion despite canceling my temp basal hours ago.

To make matters worse, I made the mistake of leaving Baby Imp on the bed a couple of times and she fell while I had my back turned. All it took was looking for a Sharpie or trying to fix myself a plate to eat and BOOM! Baby on the floor, likely having conked her head. I gave her some Tylenol for the pain and an enormous bottle after letting her scream on grandma’s lap while I wolfed down a supper of a chili cheddar brat and a small salad consisting of frozen greens, and she is now conked out to the point where I had to shake her and call her name to get her to stir. I’m honestly freaked out over that as well, although she is breathing and both times she fell she immediately calmed down when I held her. The total height of my bed is only 16 inches from the floor, since I am heavily anti-bed frames because I will just only shove shit under the bed. My carpet is rather soft and if not for all the crap I have strewn all over the floor due to my weird packing routine, worst-case scenario she would just have a bit of a rug burn on her face.

But I’m convinced she nailed her head not once, but twice today. And I’m scared.

And I’m tired.

And I’m stressed out.

And I really need someone to help me with the slack.

Instead, I’m going to blog. And make no sugar added blueberry jam. With wild blueberries.

But first, I’m gonna pack a few boxes.


Steep Downward Slide

Please allow me to acquaint you with the progression of my blood sugars over the 4 hours since discovering my site was kinked:

I think my site is working perfectly fine now.

It doesn’t help that my blood sugars tend to crash following an IVIG infusion. The last time around, I spent the day of in bed sleeping and I spent the day after adjusting the pump. I’m in for an awfully long night. Good thing I can spend all day tomorrow sleeping.

After seeing that lovely blood glucose reading of 48 mg/dL, I did what any normal girl who had her sugars drop 355 points in 4 hours would do:

Mmm carbs…

I’ll be honest, after 8 months of low carb I really didn’t enjoy those Doritos and Faygo as much as I used to – and it has nothing to do with the fact that those chips should be Better Made ones. I’ve read about people losing their taste for carbohydrates after going LCHF, and I’m now wondering if I am one of those? In a past life, that can would have been gone as well as 3/4 of the bag…well, I only drank 1/3 of it and I stopped at maybe 2 oz of chips – twice the serving size, but way less than I would have eaten a year ago. Blood sugar right now is at 73, so I’m at least at a perfectly liveable state, the temp basal got cancelled and that extreme 10 unit dose of Novalog at 7 this evening in an effort to drop the sugars, I have no idea how much is left active because I didn’t deliver it through the pump. I’ll probably be up for another couple of hours just to make sure I don’t crash. In the meantime though, I’m uploading the pump settings since I’m curious to see what the IVIG will do to my settings so that maybe I can anticipate it next month. I seem to go on a dip and then I start raising my settings after 2 and a half weeks or so when I start running out of Ig because I’ve started out with active infections and I’m having a tough time fighting things again. I want to be able to have data so that I can anticipate what I need to do for next month’s round.

My life would be so much easier if illness didn’t spike the crap out of my blood sugars.

Of course, I will be doing this all over again when I start on the SCIG, but whatevs. The more data, the better. I do hope that the SCIG will keep me on a more even level so that I don’t go through the peaks and valleys with the blood sugars and the peaks and valleys with my energy levels. Because last month was extreme. I’m hoping that this month, like the infusion, will go better.

And here I was trying to add a “Diabetes” tag to the post, getting pissed off because I am mashing on the enter key and it’s not adding, yet I can add everything else…until I realised that “Diabetes” was the first one I put in…yeah, I think it’s time for me to go to bed…

Confessions of a Naughty Girl

Grabbed your eye with that title, didn’t I? 😉

Actually, my confessions are more of a medical nature. Because I’ve spent most of the day goofing up.

1) I must have loaded my pump with expired insulin the other day.

My blood sugars have been sky high ever since. Granted, the 307 I logged at 4 o’clock yesterday morning turned out to be the result of a kinked site. Good thing my control is as tight as it is, in a past life I would have been “meh, bolus some more,” not “good thing I have infusion sets stockpiled…” and pulling out a cannula that is bent almost completely in two (yeah, it was KINKED). So I put in a new site…no change. Except for an 87 after lunch and a ton of active insulin in my system. I have been running in the 170s-190s all night, which is VERY uncharacteristic for me, I rarely see BGs over 140 unless I’ve been cheating on the diet. About half an hour ago, after doing yet another site change with no improvement in numbers, it dawned on me that I had put what was left of the bottle in the pump that time. A little mental math revealed that I am only going through between 700 and 900 units over the 28 days a bottle is viable – and I just drained it, meaning the insulin in it was well past it’s expiration date.

2) Instead of doing a full site change, I just swapped out the reservoirs.

Why? Because I just put in a brand new damn infusion set and those things are expensive, that’s why!

3) I took an injection of insulin without swabbing with alcohol first.

Probably not a good idea when you have an immune disorder.

4) I had fries this afternoon.

Because my blood sugar was at 87 and I still had a unit and a half of active insulin in my system. Sure, I was at 178 two hours later…whoops.

5) It’s 2 in the morning and I’m still up despite being exhausted.

Mostly because I just injected a bunch of insulin manually to get me through until the pump gets the old insulin out of the tube and into my system. That and I’m super dehydrated and have to pee.

Which I am going to do right now. And probably dip a ketostick in it too…sounds like a good idea…