May it go down in history that today is the day I vow to never eat another poptart as long as I live.
It’s a common misunderstanding that diabetics can’t eat sugar. Of course we can. Sugar saves my life on a weekly basis. Without it, I could easily die from a low blood sugar. So when I choose to enjoy something high in sugar (or carbs) I must take that into account and give myself the proper amount of insulin for it.
Enter this morning’s poptart. Seemingly innocent enough. They were on sale this week at Kroger so my husband, being a poptart addict, picked up three boxes. He got this one specifically for me because it’s one of my favorites.
I woke up this morning at 6am with a BG of 106. Lately I’ve been trying to curb my dawn phenomenon with some well-timed manual boluses to head off the rise so I did one when I got to work at 7am as I was at 139 at that point. Around 8:30am, I was approaching 180, having apparently failed at avoiding the high. So I bolused for my poptart and have extra insulin to help with the dawn phenomenon induced high. And I ate the crap out of those pop tarts cause they were delicious.
Then it all went to garbage.
It kept rising and wouldn’t stop. I gave two more corrections. Eventually my dexcom maxed out: HIGH, it shouted angrily at me, as if I couldn’t already tell. My coworkers even noticed (they know I wear my sugar on my wrist and keep an eye on me) and were asking what was happening.
I became sluggish and scattered, right as the COO of the company came to talk to me about something important. I was higher than I’d been in well over 6 months and it SUCKED.
In the middle of talking to the COO, I pulled out my insulin pen and gave myself a manual correction as I hit 457 on my meter. And then I waited. And tested. And retested. And slowly, I began to come down.
Goodbye, poptarts! You’ve been blacklisted!