And now back to your regularly scheduled program already in progress

I don’t really know what happened. Something somewhere clicked.

It started last week. I don’t even really remember which day. I started refusing chocolate offered to me when co-workers said “But I bought it just for you.” I started testing more than just my fasting. I even went to a first birthday party and fed No. 3 cake and ice cream and didn’t touch any myself (Ok, I had two nibbles, but together they barely constituted half a bite). I sat in an endless three day meeting with mini candy bars all around me and only had four or five of those boogers.

And the kicker: I’ve been getting up at 5:20 a.m. to take my morning walk. I went for broke right from the beginning and took my normal 1.57-mile route; no abbreviations this time. And I was happy to see that my pace hadn’t slowed—it still only takes me 30 minutes (even with the dog stopping to smell every last bag of trash and getting tangled in almost every tree and phone pole).

It’s a complete turnaround. I’ve had some moments in the last week where I’ve allowed myself a piece of candy or two (or three), but overall, I can honestly say that I’m back on track. (In fact, when a co-worker put a Starburst on my desk yesterday and I said no, the look of shock on her face was priceless.) And this time feels much different than the past several times when I knew I was only giving a half-hearted effort.

Sitting in the pharmacy today, I kept staring at the chocolate. I didn’t want any. Seriously couldn’t fathom eating any of it. It was an incredibly wonderful feeling. I think it might have also been a feeling of fear; fear that if I got started I wouldn’t be able to stop.

Things are much, much different, though, than when I was in control in the past. Since I’ve started testing more often, I’ve noticed how absolutely, incredibly sensitive I am to carbs. At first, I thought my body would just take some time to adjust. I had planned to give it some time, stick to a decent meal plan and hope that the numbers would come down.

But they didn’t. It was obvious after only a few days that something had to change. 32 units of Lantus and 500 mg of Metformin twice a day just weren’t cutting it anymore. Even if I managed to get a fasting at or around 100, my post lunch and dinner numbers were off the wall. A sandwich on whole wheat and a handful of Cheez Its sent me soaring near 300. I didn’t want to feel like I was jumping the gun or anything, but I was too high for way too long. And even though the numbers were coming down, the second I ate something they shot back up again.

With numbers that high, I had little recourse to bring them down. One morning, even though I sort of knew better, my fasting was over 200. I ate and went for my walk. Two hours post, I was 111. Sweet! I was on the good path. A few mornings later, though, my fasting was 238, I ate and walked and two hours post I was 248. And I felt like shit. In contrast, one evening we went to a Boy Scouts banquet and I forgot to take my Metformin at dinner, so I took it when we got home. The next morning, I woke up lower than I’ve ever been. I kept repeating 46, 46, 46. The good thing about that morning was that I got to drink milk! However, even with my walk, I overtreated the low and two hours post I was 157. It just seemed like an endless battle that I wasn’t going to win any time soon. I had to stop it. I needed instant gratification if I was going to make it.

I emailed my endo yesterday and explained what was going on. I knew that if I had some fast-acting insulin for a while to help the numbers come down faster that I would feel better about what I was doing. (Frustration tends to lead me to eat, which, obviously, only perpetuates the problem.) Fortunately, he agreed. While we both want me to start on Byetta, I’m still nursing and Byetta and nursing don’t mix. So, as of 1:30 p.m. today, I’m back on Novolog. And I’m absolutely thrilled! I feel like I can work on my walking and my numbers and still have some flexibility. I can have a few sips of milk to wash down my peanut butter sandwich in the mornings before my walk and not worry about going over 200 and staying there for a few days.

This will still be a struggle. I know it. I know there will be days when I let all Hell break loose. But I also know that I’ll be able to get back on track sooner and a lot easier. If I have a brownie today, I know not to have one tomorrow. I’ve been able to talk myself out of so many things lately (namely gooey butter cake, donuts and candy). I’m so proud of myself (no, I won’t break my arm patting myself on the back). Pride is a good thing and such a motivator. And while this might sound weird, I’m doing this for myself, not my kids or my husband or anyone else who loves me. It’s all about me. And it has to be or it won’t get done.

Overprotecting myself

I had The. Most. Incredibly. Written. Post. all ready for this morning. I started composing it in the shower this morning. Seems to be where I do my best work, actually. Hrmph. I scrambled around for something to write on as soon as I got out of the shower, and even though I loathe the feeling of just-washed-hands on paper with no lotion, I jotted down just about everything I could remember. (And managed to remember most of it despite No. 2 whispering “Mom, what are you doing? Why? What?) Man, I was proud of that post. It was going to get comments galore. I was feeling mighty proud of myself.

And then—yes, there’s always that—I realized that the person slash particular group of people I would be referring to in this post may possibly read it. (I think once I sent an email without deleting my blog address from my signature. Eek!) I wasn’t directly insulting anyone, but I could see how one particular person (who I actually don’t know) might view this as a personal attack. Despite the fact that the post was more centered around ME freaking out about something I don’t need to freak out about (OK, maybe a little). It’s such a small, small possibility that this person will read my blog, but I’m not in the business of burning bridges.

So, instead you’ll notice that I have updated my blogroll. It has been seriously lacking in representation of what I actually read. (It’s so easy to hit “Add to Favorites” instead of going into my Blogger template.) And Art-Sweet, I owe you one, big, fat apology for not at least updating my link to your new site before now. Bad Michko! Bad.

Take special note of Life as i know it. The Mr. started a blog over the weekend. Please go visit and give him a special hello.

My life on my sleeve

It’s no secret, I don’t think, that, to be frank, I’m not taking care of myself. I’m not really paying attention to my diabetes. Which is really probably why my blog entries have trickled down to once every 10 or 14 days. And even then, it’s nothing significant.

I feel like on some level I’m getting farther and farther away from the ideal D spot. But on other levels, I’m getting closer to where I actually need to be. Yesterday, I achieved several major accomplishments. First, I checked my blood sugar four times. Well, five, actually since I didn’t believe that my post-breakfast number was over 200. Remembering the lotion I had just put on, I washed my hands, tested again and got a more sensible number. Not an in-range number, but a more likely one.

My fasting number was around 100, I had a normal breakfast of half a sandwich with Smucker’s Natural Peanut Butter and a dab of strawberry jelly on 100% whole wheat bread. I washed it down with orange-flavored Crystal Light, which, by the way, is gross. It’s no substitute for orange juice, that’s for darn sure. I had a snack mid-morning and then a decent lunch. The munchy monsters came calling mid-afternoon, though. I did fairly well considering what I normally eat. I had two graham crackers and then about two hours later I had a mini bag of popcorn. Certainly not enough to send me over the edge, but definitely more than I should have had. At least I know that much. And then I caved. I had two small pieces of chocolate. They weren’t even really that good; they were just there.

I had to grab a quick dinner (a turkey sandwich and a handful of Doritos) since I had a meeting at 6:30. After I got home, after I put the kids to bed, after I talked to The Mr. for a bit, I checked my sugar. It was roughly two hours post dinner, give or take a few minutes. I was very, very surprised to see 294. Enter frustration. I had to remind myself that I had really only been “good” for less than a day, that my body was still dealing with crap from the last several months, that I had to be patient. But still, I thought that almost topping 300 was really not necessary.

Yet another almost-milestone of late: Last week I actually set out my clothes and coat for an early morning walk before I went to bed. Those items haven’t really been touched since I got them out, but for me it’s a start. (Some have asked me why I don’t just walk in the evenings. I prefer to walk in the mornings because evenings are usually eaten up with getting three kids to bed and taking care of the house. Oh, and if I should muster some free time, I might get to write or do something crafty.) Last night was the first time in a while that I really thought seriously about getting up in the morning for a walk. But, more excuses, this was only the second weekday morning after the time change and getting up at 5:30 a.m. is “really” 4:30 a.m. and I just knew my body wasn’t going to budge.

However, this morning, after reading about the MapMyRun tool from Google on Sara in West Palm's site, I mapped my tried and true walking route. It was neat to see how far I can go. I had tried to measure my route by driving my car, but with several one-way streets along the way the measurement wasn’t really accurate. So, although I realized my 30-minute walk was “only” 1.57 miles and not closer to 2 miles, it still served as a little inspiration. I’m thinking much harder about actually getting up tomorrow. (My mom once told me that it takes something like three weeks to establish a habit (like an exercise routine) and only three days to break it.)

Another move in the right direction: this morning while I was milling around before leaving for work, I thought to myself that I really had plenty of time in the mornings to go for a walk. And that I didn’t even really have to get up all that much earlier since I essentially had time to kill without getting up earlier than usual. (And sheesh, I have a new MP3 player that I got for my birthday. I may as well put it to use!)

So what in God’s name is holding me back? I know I can do this. I’ve done it before. I keep harping on the time when I was pregnant and how I had this other life to look out for and that was essentially my inspiration. But, lately I’ve had to remind myself that I actually started on a healthier lifestyle before I got pregnant, that I was looking out for myself before I started looking out for the one who was borrowing my body. When I told people that I had diabetes they often looked at me with pity and I told them that it was actually sort of a blessing because it was getting me to do things that I needed to do anyway: eating right and exercising.

Ok, I feel like a complete broken record because I’ve blogged about this topic in the past. I just don’t really know *sigh* how to get back on track. I’m no longer frustrated with diabetes; I’m frustrated with myself.

I heart Grey's Anatomy

I'm most like Dr. Miranda Bailey.

You’re a perfectionist and you expect nothing less from everyone around you. Even when people complain, they secretly admire you for holding them to your high standards. Your family is your rock, even if you don’t get to see them as much as you’d like. But without them, you’d be lost because you can’t ever let anyone at work see you’re human too.

Take the quiz here.