Last night my blood sugar at bedtime was 64, so I ate a bowl of cereal and milk. It’s a decent bedtime snack for me, and it typically results in a morning blood sugar in the low 100s, which is where I want to be.
But I woke up at 6:30am with a head that felt full of cotton balls, and my blood sugar was 315. Wow! I took a correction bolus, drank coffee, and got ready for work.
Several hours later, the stuffed-head feeling still had a hold on me. I thought of taking another few units of insulin, convinced that I was loaded with glucose resistant to coming down. But I wanted to eat something, too, so I checked my blood sugar. Ha! The magic 100. (Wasn’t there last year some sort of effort by the diabetes crowd to collect and post pics of “the perfect score”? Finally, I have one.)
Those 100s seem to come totally by accident, when they do, and the achievement of today is not really that number. I’m glad I didn’t rely on my intuition today to tell me what my blood sugar was. Sometimes I believe my brain and senses comprise an on-board glucose meter, which is a ruse.
Glucose meters lack accuracy, but their plus or minus 20 percent monitoring beats the error in my estimate based on body awareness or a “felt sense” today. I was convinced I was hovering around 300 and found out I was 100. Imagine if I had taken a correction bolus without testing, without eating? That would have ended up in a blood sugar nosedive.