The first job I had was in a movie theater, at the ripe ageof 15. I told my employer right away that I had diabetes. I told him there maybe times when I need to stop for a second and grab a juice box, and I explainedthat I would go somewhere private when needing to inject insulin. Fortunately, he’d had plenty of experience with diabetes because of another employee. His name was Mike and he was, to the say theleast, not really the same kind of diabetic I consider myself to be. Mike’s blood sugars were up and down all the time. He oftenhad episodic lows, requiring someone else to tell him he was acting funny andshould slow down and grab a soda. My boss was surprised to see that my diabetesreally never became an issue or interfered with getting work done. One of the best things about this job, however—and part ofthe reason my diabetes never became an issue—was because I had free access tothe soda machines whenever I wanted! It’s hard to drop low, even during a busynight...
I am such a food snob. A fake food snob, really. It's a shame, because I shouldn't be one. I have no right. I can't cook, I don't have a refined palette, and for the most part, I can't even pronounce the foods on the "fancy" restaurant menus. But somehow, despite these classless tendencies, I'm still known to turn my nose up at things like Fruit Roll-Ups and juice boxes, because I'm always trying to avoid excess sugar, HFCS, and foods that aren't organic. My husband and I purchase as many organic foods as possible, and I kept close tabs on the origins of my meals, especially during the course of my pregnancy . Ah, the blissful moments when I actually had TIME to read all the food labels and to putter around at Farmer's Markets for the best local produce. These days, time isn't exactly on my side. I have two factors in play at the moment: watching my daughter and my inability to lift her car seat due to post c-section recovery restrictions.
Last Sunday night I had a diabetes episode that left me feeling cranky and exhausted on Monday morning. It was a completely self-induced event, which just heaps guilt onto an already icky experience. Here's what happened:
The kids were asleep and I was settling into the couch to watch some TV with my husband. My blood sugar was 127 mg/dl after a dinner of salmon and roasted sweet potatoes (yum!). I decided to have some banana chips dipped into natural peanut butter as a snack. I didn't intend on eating many, so I bolused just one unit of insulin.
My first mistake was bringing the entire bag of banana chips to the couch instead of just taking a serving. One handful of banana chips turned into two, then three. In the back of my mind I heard this nagging voice whispering, "You should bolus, this is far more than 20 grams of carbohydrates..." But, I ignored it.
A couple handfuls later, I encouraged my husband to take some ...
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