It’s a funny kind of loneliness when diabetes wakes you up in the middle of the night. There’s the shzzz shzzz of the Dexcom vibrations that pops into your dreams and brings you back into a state of awake. It’s a blurry awake for a few seconds though. Then you remember that you have diabetes and that something is telling you to act, right now. We’re used to alarms and warnings with this disease.
You reach for the CGM, its normally pale beam seeming brighter than a flashlight because your eyes are used to the darkness. It’s quiet in the room, except for the peaceful rise and and fall of your partner’s breath next to you in the bed. This is not his problem. It’s just you and diabetes in this moment, in the wee hours of the morning.
The CGM shows 180mg/dL. You fumble with your kit in the dark to do a fingerstick, and another pale light from your meter confirms you’re at 176mg/dL. You debate giving a bolus though. In a few short hours, the alarm will go off to get you up for your workout, and you don’t want to get low. You decide on half a unit. It’s so quiet that the beep beep of the bolus delivery sounds like foghorn to you. You slide back under the covers, muffling the tiny tick tick sound of the little motor in the pump pushing out a half unit.
You close your eyes and try to relax, even though you were on high alert just moments ago. It’s easier to relax after bolusing than treating a low in the middle of the night. There’s less worry in this small high, and soon you drift back to sleep.
They are funny moments though, in the middle of the night. Just you and diabetes.