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.