Kick Rocks

I was five months in and beginning to feel like an old pro. Admittedly, I thought I had this whole thing mastered. I could {and would} dominate this disease-- I still will. It is almost laughable that at twenty-five years old, I still haven't grasped the concept that I can't always control things. I can dot every "i" and cross every "t" on my check lists, plan ahead, and walk through all the what ifs my mind can come up with, yet life will still throw some curve balls that can knock me on my butt. Dose of reality? I got slapped with it this past month. 


Aside from my frequent bouts with lows, it had been smooth sailing. My A1C was a pretty 5.6. Sure, I had the occasional bump or two with the "highs" that grazed 180. Once or twice I had even hit the 200 benchmark, but those came with an incorrect insulin dosage while eating out (always check your order... especially when it comes to low-carb/sugar versions of what you eat). The honeymoon stage was going strong and I was even able to cut my insulin dosage in half. My only complaints were solely with those hypoglycemic episodes. 


I read the first hand accounts of the roller coaster rides-- the Dexcom graphs that depicted a heart monitor or polygraph with the haphazard waves. I would cringe and thank my lucky stars that I hadn't reached that point yet. I knew it wouldn't always be easy, but I was hoping for a nice long grace period. Realistic? Probably not.


And then it happened. BAM! I woke up one day and everything had gone to hell. Seriously. Extreme heart palpitations. Blurry vision accompanied by floaters. Anxiety. 200's. 60's. 200 to 60 in a matter of 30 minutes. Spiking at 9 am and crashing by 10:30 am. Waking up in a sweat to the sweet awful sound of my beeping Dexcom. 

This graph looks good compared to some moments...

My glucose graph was embarrassing and I didn't know how to fix it. It was taking a toll on my body and I felt miserable. I worried about long-term damage. I fretted over the prospect of losing my eyesight. Worst of all, I'd close my eyes at night with a million thoughts racing through my mind about the possibility of a severe dip on this roller coaster ride. I was frazzled and exhausted. Yet, I still felt like I needed to act strong.


I could deal with the expected, but when it was out of my hands, my type-a self was broken. I am struggling when it comes to differentiating myself from this disease. When my levels are bad, I take it to mean that I am managing things poorly. I feel like those highs are a reflection of me and that is where the embarrassment seeps in.


These emotions culminated the night that my Dexcom showed 220 and a couple of minutes later sounded a shrill alarm, accompanied by double errors straight down into the 60's. Tears welled in my eyes and I seriously considered throwing the damn thing into a wall. How could it be this bad? There was no control. I needed a doctor stat.


Of course, these symptoms started to appear three days after my insurance had changed over. I scrambled to find an endocrinologist that could assist me. The good one was booked until June. I requested a primary and within one week, I was in.


Still feeling very overwhelmed, I laid back on the table as she checked my vitals. She paused and asked, "So how long have you had a heart murmur?" I didn't know that I did.