Sitting in a work meeting, my focus begins to wander. New work policies and developments are being communicated and debated, but my mind keeps drifting. No one seems to notice that even though I am physically there, my attention is not. Adele being at school and me at work, I don’t have any physical signs that her blood sugar is okay. I can’t seem to get rid of this uneasiness, but I need to refocus on my meeting...I keep looking at my watch wondering. Over 2 hours since her breakfast insulin bolus, how much of that insulin is still actively working? I try to do the math in my head. She had dropped significantly in the third hour after breakfast and had gone low the day before, will she do the same today? She was a bit high at 9am when I spoke to her teacher’s aid and I had corrected, but did I over-correct? I am still not convinced, but then again I remind myself that I need to refocus on my meeting…
I had stepped out of the boardroom when Adele’s TA had called at 9am, but mentally I was still in the meeting. I had listened, calculated and told the TA to tell Adele to give herself 0.5 units of insulin. It was a quick decision. It had to be and now I was second guessing myself. What if Adele’s blood sugar is dropping too fast? She doesn’t always recognize her lows. Again, I try to refocus on my meeting…
It’s scary to think of the reality of a Type 1 gamers responsibility of calculating insulin dosages without the medical training of a doctor. And the fact that the repercussions of a mistake could be fatal. I then tell myself to not go there and refocus on my meeting…
The thing with calculating insulin doses is that yes you are using mathematical calculations, but in reality it’s nothing but a slightly educated guess. When someone asks me if Adele’s blood sugar will be good for the next few hours, I can never, ever be absolutely certain that it will even if we do every single thing that we’re supposed to. Especially since the severe insulin reaction last week (http://thetype1game.blogspot.com/2010/12/when-living-is-not-dying.html). Unexplanable highs and lows can and do happen at any time. You just hope that you can catch them in time.
Adele can eat the exact same food, receive the exact same insulin dose and have the same activity level on 2 consecutive days with different blood glucose level results. That’s all part of the Type 1 game. There are just too many uncontrollable variables in the blood glucose balance equation.
I eventually made it through my meeting. Adele’s blood sugar was 8.2 (148) at 10:20 am before her snack. A bit high, but not the low that I was worrying about. After a few days of this pattern, a bit more insulin after breakfast seemed to be what it took to keep her in range, until a few days later when it became too much and she dropped to 2.3 (41) before her morning snack at school.
Adele doesn't deserve to live this life... She didn't choose this. I'm tired and beat. But I can't go there, again I remind myself to refocus.
How could I have let this happen? A stubborn high that didn’t seem to want to come down (until now), a very light bedtime snack, a new infusion site, a basal set too high, a sudden increased insulin sensitivity, a Continuous Glucose Monitor vacation and a temporary loss of focus are some of the causes that come to mind. We had lost ourselves while decorating the Christmas tree and then while watching a movie. We had enjoyed this special family time together a bit too much. I should have seen this coming, but I didn’t. I just felt like crawling under a rock and dying… I felt like giving up. But I can’t. Like with every other close call, I need to dust myself off, refocus and keep going… for Adele, for our family and for myself. I need to regain the confidence that was lost.





What does it take to be part of the Cyclebetes national relay? First and foremost you need a sense of adventure and a willingness to step out of your comfort zone. Up at 5:30 am most mornings, often on the bike an hour later at 6:30. You’re eating, trying to recover, trying to rest, driving, working on bikes, setting up camp and doing multiple other chores mostly the rest of the day. You eventually crash at around 11 pm or later, hopefully in a relatively comfortable bed in the RV (sometimes on the floor) or in a tent. You try to get some sleep because you have to do the same thing the next day. And that’s if you’re part of a team that does not have any longer days where the riding extends into the night.
My Cyclebetes relay pull this year was 4 days through Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. Less than half of my mileage was on the tandem (Diabetsy) and the rest was on my own bike in pursuit of my own personal objective of 600 kms in 4 days. I am not a professional athlete, in fact I have a full-time day job, a house and second-hand Type 1 Diabetes. I’m just a regular guy who loves to ride a bicycle and who believes that we always have a choice. We can be the complainer or we can choose to do something. It doesn’t have to be huge, but it’s still something. Quite often these little “somethings” can make all the difference. You just never know… Like during the relay stop at the Pharmasave in Truro, Nova Scotia when a young boy and his mom came up to see us. The young boy was very impressed to see the bikes, especially the tandem. His mom told us that he just loved riding. She also told us that he had just recently been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. I knew exactly how she felt. You could see the pain and suffering in her eyes. Or when we stopped on the side of the road somewhere between Woodstock and Edmundston, New Brunswick, literally in the middle of nowhere quite early on a Tuesday morning, 3 young kids and their grand-mother came running down a driveway with a $20 bill in their hand. They had heard about the relay on TV and just happened to glance out their window when they saw our caravan. Often the little things are what touch us the most…
There are times in life when it’s just gonna hurt… no matter what. So, you better make sure it’s worth it.
Then, as my head dropped in defeat, I got a quick glimpse of the blue band on my left wrist. The words ‘Cure Diabetes’ are written on this JDRF wrist band that I was proudly wearing, but all that was showing was the word ‘Diabetes’. I then thought of all of Adele’s used needles that I had disposed of that morning (and stabbed myself in the process). I thought of the highs and lows that Adele had endured because of the new “routine” since being on vacation for the last few days and what each and every person living with Type 1 deals with… constantly… each and every day… 24/7… At that point, adrenaline and passion overtook the physical pain that I had been feeling a few seconds earlier. Screw you Diabetes and screw you # 424!! I shifted onto my big ring and started pouring every single watt of power that I had left into the pedals. I caught and passed # 424. As the last few molecules of my last energy gel reached my leg muscles, I dropped into the last section of single track taking the fast but more technical line between 2 huge rocks. I couldn’t make any mistakes. I was cleaning the section faster than all of my other laps. Then, my front wheel suddenly washed out on one of the loose corners. As my foot came out of my pedal and I went off course, # 424 flew by me, stood up and sprinted away. I had lost. As it turned out, we were racing for 4th instead of 3rd (last podium spot) which alleviated the agony of defeat a bit.
