Confusion, peace, and numbers

Beware of long windedness. It's been a whole week since I last blogged and my heart and mind are spilling forth. I will try to approach this spill with a napkin and dab at little bits at a time until it is all cleaned up. But the first napkin is always soaked. Some people blog for their friends and family. I blog for me (blog is a noun and verb now, right? Like Google?). And I am blessed that a few of you like to read what I write. To understand the story below, it will help to remember that ideal blood sugars are around 100 first thing in the morning (fasting) and between 120-160 two hours after a meal. High numbers around 400-500 might mean a person can't walk or even see. Low numbers around 50 might cause dizziness, exhaustion, or fainting.

Last Wednesday night I happily recorded all my blood sugars from the last two weeks on a spread sheet. I used the format the new doctor requested. Date, time, fasting in one column, post prandial in another. (Post prandial is a fancy medical term I just recalled meaning two hours after a meal). The idea that someone who could do something would look at my numbers, call me, and change things was refreshing. T took my sheet to work the next day and faxed them to the doctor. The nurse called on Friday. She said exactly what I expected. Increase the new medicine by 15 mg a day. I started the new amount on Friday morning and was excited to check my fasting numbers Sunday morning. My fastings had been running 140--how much lower would they be? The meter said 176. What? I washed my hands, sure that I must have sugar from the girls' cereal on my hands. I checked again. 172. What the...? I cried. Sometimes hope disappointed is more than I can handle with a straight face. To restore my spirits, I resorted to the childhood tactic of avoidance. I left the glucometer in the drawer for the rest of the day.

A few hours later T and I took the girls to the playplace at Burger King (deemed superior in fun to McD's). We made our obligatory purchase and sat down to watch the girls release energy. I am going to switch to present tense here so you get the full effect:

In walks an adorable five year old girl. She plops down, whips out her very own glucometer, pricks her finger, and checks her blood sugar. She frowns. I am staring. I can't stop. To make the staring seem friendly and not weird, I smile and say, "I have a glucometer too. Was your reading high?"

"409" she shrugs.

Hoping my eyes aren't the size of saucers as I wonder how she can still be walking, and resisting the urge to insist on a hand washing and a retest, I say, " Is that normal?"

"Usually they're like 58 or something."

Shrink eyes. Shrink. How can you act so normal? I wonder.
The girl's mom and brother walk in with the food. The mom doesn't look shocked at the number report but does ask a few questions to see if she can find the cause. The girl eats her lunch of french fries and chicken tenders (a high carb meal). Then her mom calculates the needed insulin. The girl stands up, anxious to play, pulls her shirt down to expose her shoulder. The insulin needle is injected and she laughs, saying "That didn't even hurt this time." I am staring. I feel like there is a rock in my stomach and I'm my stretching eyes in an effort to keep the gathering moisture at bay.

That girl's face is a new permanent memory. In retelling the story I still fight tears--the kind of tears that come as you watch someone you admire deal with something hard. The last few months of reporting my numbers to my new blog support group has strengthened my resolve to face diabetes. Books I have read, not about diabetes, but about not being anxious and about Amy Carmichael, a missionary in India, have reminded me that while confusing--my diabetes forces me to remember God. I am not in control. I am not supposed to be. I can't make my numbers do what I want them to. And because I know who is in control, I can rest. I don't need all the answers. Come what may, I will not be given more than I can handle. Life for me is no longer about finding answers, but about seeing the glory of God. I don't need to understand. I am a blessed child of God. Such thoughts crowded my mind for weeks prior to seeing this girl. And somehow this little girl, with her crazy blood sugar numbers and her quiet acquiescence strengthened the message the Lord has been giving me.

For God's new strength I am thankful. This morning as I checked my fasting number and it inexplicably read 206, I was at peace. I took a second reading: 196. I did a control test to see make certain the meter was functioning properly. It was. I will wait a day or two, get complete post prandial readings, and call my doctor.
Thanks for walking with me. Here are the readings I did take.
3/3 fasting 128
3/3 after dinner 170
3/4 after dinner 143
3/5 fasting 143
Increased medicine on 3/7
3/8 fasting 176
3/9 fasting 206