Guardian and cherry slices to the rescue
I love that sound.
It is 2:24 am. The girl wakes me up: low alarm. My eyes flash open. I snatch her off the night stand, flip the case open with one hand and quickly silence her. My fingers have learned to find her buttons as surely as they know the keys of my laptop.
Her call: 74.
Time to double check. Is this the real deal or a false alarm? I fumble for the little red flashlight. On. Now I'm the U-boat commander in the conning tower, bathed in red-light, searching out my prey. Ah, there is the vial of test strips. I untangle the pump from the oversized T-shirt I sleep in. It is a XXL. The scary thing is that it used to fit. I now wear a medium.
Test strip into the port. Code number 13. Finger stick. Nada. Try another finger. No luck. Well....third time is the charm. The dot of blood looks black in the red light. I touch the edge of the strip to the dot. Ziiiiip! The strip sucks in the blood and the pump quivers in my hand at once. Wow. That was fast. This is no false alarm.
Ok. We'd better double check that number. Test strip into port. Code number 13. Finger stick. Got blood. Ziiiiip! The pump vibrates almost the second the blood is gone.
52. No sweats. No shaking hands. No falling elevator. I feel fine.
Just before midnight I took a three unit correction for high BG, a souvenir of dinner in town with my mother, who’s visiting for a few days. I tried something new on the menu. Didn’t work out so well: for either the taste buds or the blood sugar. Now at 2:26 am there is still over one unit of insulin in play with a tail that will stretch out for another hour and a half. So much for the night time correction ratio.
One slice may not be enough. I get up to write this post, and to wait for the inevitable second alarm. In twenty minutes the girl goes off again. She’s now at 70. Still trending down. I check BG again with the Cozmo. It clocks me in at 66. Well that’s moving up, but pretty slow with a lot of insulin on board. I can probably ride it out and be OK, but I eat another cherry slice to be on the safe side.
It is now 3:09 am. The girl shows me at 88. The Cozmo at 121. We are in the clear. BG is shooting up. It may go a bit too high, but I think the insulin still left will eat it up. Maybe a half slice the second time would have been OK, but when you’re in the 50’s in the middle of the night it is better safe than sorry. Besides, they are rather tasty...
You know what? I’ve bitched, growled, complained, and nit-picked about the Guardian. And I will probably continue to do so. But tonight she earned her keep. Literally and figuratively.
This girl is here to stay.