You may know that I'm a fan of 80s movies. Particularly comedies such as Caddyshack, Weird Science, the Breakfast Club and Others that offered humor as an outlet. These helped shape my earlier years, and now they offer some mindless release and laughs into an often sobering adult life. Another favorite is Spaceballs, a 1987 sci fi parody that mocks movies like Star Wars and Star Trek and has become a cult classic. This movie goes beyond greatness and is simply a stellar creation of the highest form, fitting right into the Hoskins Hall of Movie AWEsomeNess.
So on that movie homage note, I honor Spaceballs with my analysis of some recent D-Life happenings as it relates to the first 10 days or so of my continuing Pump Hiatus.
You may recall my most recent post on Good Friday about My Burning Bush Toe, or the neuropathy-impacted body part that's become a radar-like tool in my D-Management. Over time, I've noticed that when my BGs go higher (say 250 or more) I get what amounts to a warning in the form of some foot or toe pain. Nothing much to fret over, but just a noticeable sign that something's slightly "off." Accurate a majority of the time, and that signals it's time to correct. But lately since stopping my pump therapy for the 1st time in nine years, that Radar has been off key.
Or, in the Lingo of Spaceballs: My radar has been jammed. (Here's a YouTube Video of that Rockin' Jammed Scene, which really In My Honest Opinion can only be topped by the A-Holes Scene.)
Lately, when my BGs feel Low or High, they more commonly are not. Feel like 300? Well, the result instead has been 100 or less. Low feeling, even blurry vision has yielded results that aren't Low or High, but in the low 100s or so. It's strange, as if substituting the constant hourly basals for 24-hour Lantus injections and MDI of Humalog boluses has changed my predictive senses. This may be a body adjustment period as I get back into the swing of non-pumping, and it will fade as I get more used to this change. That's a key: giving my body time to get used to the changes.
But in the meantime, it's clear that my Pump Hiatus is responsible for jamming my D-Radar. Not only that. It's throwing off my entire scope of control as I've known it for nine years. My numbers are off, my reactions to various foods and situations is bouncing me all over the place. Nothing I've traditionally done while pumping seems to be working. Overall, I'm just "off." D-Jammed.
(Sigh). (Shoulder slumping...)
Enter Dark Helmet: "There's only one man who would dare give me the Raspberry. Lonestar!"
MDIs: you are my Lonestar. Thanks for throwing a monkey wrench into my predictive senses. But more significantly, I say to Diabetes: You are indeed, a Major A-Hole.
As Dark Helmet would say: "I knew it. I'm surrounded by a-holes...
"Keep Firing, A-Holes!"
Exactly. I keep battling the D, each day. Doing what I can. Firing laser missiles into the dark abyss of Diabetes Space in order to fend off Highs, Lows, and Glucoastering BGs. Instead of light sabers we diabetics use insulin, blood meters, and CGMs. Rather than the Force (or Swartz), we have the Diabetes Online Community. This networking also helps learn new D-specific Jedi Mind Tricks to help in our never-ending battle against the Dark D-Side.
In the end, even if or D-Radars and overall D-Management is "jammed" and our tools aren't fully whipping the D into shape, one resounding message carries us through the tough times: "May the Shwartz Be With You."