The entire struggle at the very core of type one diabetes is trying to maintain a consistent blood sugar level. Nice, even, straight lines, not too high, not too low...all while doing the part of one of the key organs in your body for hormone production. Nice, eh?
Well I strive for this, like anyone with T1. But what we do doesn't always work. For example: last night before bed I had a corn popped cake (think rice cake with a bit of flavour) which is 4g of carb. I had it with some artichoke and asiago which is no carbs but a bit of fat so I upped my bolus a tiny bit. It was a relatively low-carb, low fat snack and I was full. Now, I did something I don't normally do and I ate a snack when my sugar was 9.0 mmol/l (162mg/dcl). Normally, if I can time and hunger-wise I try not to eat until I am >7.0 mmol/l (126 mg/dcl). For me, that is the magic number where I don't need to correct, and my insulin to carb ratio should work relatively well if I give my bolus a slight (15-20 min) advance on eating. It has been working well for me 80% of the time (and with type one diabetes that's a good percentage).
So, yes, last night. I had a snack when I was 162. I knew I shouldn't but I was hungry to the point that my stomach was churning. I gulped a glass of water hoping to satiate myself enough to fall asleep but it just wasn't happening. So what do I do? find the lowest carb to satisfaction snack I could and enjoy it. I bolused and corrected for it. Here's what happened over night:
I didn't fail. It's much higher than I personally prefer to be for such a long period of time but it wasn't a failure by any means. I didn't go out of range....so why was I so disappointed in this this morning? Well, for one, because my meter is telling me my bg is 8.4 (152) and I am hungry! I know that if I eat now before my breakfast pre-bolus kicks in, and kicks in well I will sky rocket and hover in the 13 (234)-18 (324) range all morning, no matter what I do. But I am hungry.
At what point do we as people living with type one say shag it and treat ourselves like we are human beings, rather than a science experiment? When do we weigh the consequences of indulging our human instinct vs. what we know would be best for our body?
These are thoughts that have been running in my head a lot lately. The guilt of treating my body like it is human, rather than many robot parts, has been rearing its ugly head on me. leaving me with that one question: when am I just human?