Am I Kris Freeman? Nope, pretty sure.
Am I in Vancouver, having just watched him go hypoglycemic during an Olympic race? I think this looks like my bedroom. Why would I be in Vancouver? Why wouldn’t I be in Sochi?
Why am I wide awake? Where is that weird feeling coming from? And What time is it anyway? Oh, it’s 2:30. I must be a bit hypo myself.
I started eating glucose tablets before I even tested, since the world was flashing in that particular way it does when my blood sugar is low. The result: 46 mg/dL (2.6 mmol/L).
It had to be the skiing.
Lisa says that I need to steer clear of hypnotists because my subconscious seems very susceptible to suggestion. But then again there has been a lot of skiing in my world recently, and it would make sense that it would sneak into my dreams. Saturday, I watched someone a year older than me win a gold medal in the men’s biathlon 10K. The next morning I watched the women’s race from Sochi while running long on the treadmill, and in the afternoon I watched the skiathlon, which combines classical and freestyle Nordic skiing. Then I waxed my own skis, which I used yesterday after work before going home to (among other things) watch more men’s biathlon. Some time in the evening, Lisa and I watched this short NBC profile of Kris Freeman.
Last year, skiing didn’t go very well. I managed to fall a lot during my lessons, injuring my left shoulder. So I was rather nervous about giving it another shot. But then again, there’s a huge stubborn streak in my constitution, and I was looking forward to doing better this time around. Yesterday, my first time skiing this season, I just wanted some time on the snow. I needed a chance to work on my balance and get a little confidence back. If that meant double poling for the better part of an hour, then so be it. And that’s pretty much what I did: sticking to the parallel ski tracks for about two miles, while occasionally throwing in some really ugly-looking V1 when no one was around. I did fall a couple times in the same spot on a downhill turn—clearly something to work on—but I wasn’t hurt and consider this a successful outing.
The only really bad thing which happened is that I managed to pull out the infusion set which delivers my insulin. I don’t think it was from the fall—although that might have helped—or because my abs look like this:
I don’t, for the record, look like either of them. Nor do I put my infusion set on my chest. (Ouch!) I have enough of a spare tire that I can usually find a place in my abdomen, although I do occasionally find muscle when starting a set, which hurts like you would not believe.
Anyway, when I put my new set in yesterday, the tape was a bit wrinkly, and as I smoothed everything out, I must have loosened the cannula, which is supposed to sit under my skin. Sometime as I skied it worked itself free, meaning that no insulin was going into my body. An hour after eating dinner I discovered the problem, but by then my blood sugar was ridiculously high (500 mg/dL, or 28 mmol/L). There was nothing to do except change the set, take extra insulin, drink lots of fluids, and wait . . . and wait. I couldn’t be sure how long I had been insulin-free, so I gave myself a lot of it. When I went to bed I was still quite high, so I dosed even more, which combined with all of the skiing and caught up with me four hours later.
Tomorrow’s weather looks pretty good, and I think I’ll head back to the ski track after work. Let’s hope for better balance and blood sugars.