Saturday, 27 February 2010...which is the start to the still rather good song by the Barenaked Ladies. But it's also, to the best of my knowledge, a first for me since DX.
One week. No hypos.
Trust me, I'm very happy about this. But the thing is that I don't really know how I've done it. If I could tell you that, I think the sense of satisfaction would be a lot greater. But the thing is that I don't know how I've done it. Like I say, I am really happy about it, but aiming for a whole week free of hypos has been emotionally draining in a manner that I haven't admitted to anyone before writing this down. And why has it been like that? Because the whole thing has been like a competition. I felt like I was running against a stop-clock the whole time.
Knowing that my goal was to get that whole week meant I had something to aim for. Now unless you've met me in person, you might not know this about me, but I am actually HORRIBLY competitive. It's not that I don't want other people to do well, because I don't think I'm that mean. It's just that I love the rush of winning. Particularly in teams, if I'm honest. I think it's because I know that as an individual, I'm likely to lose. But put me with others and I've got a chance of contributing something.
So the thought of my hypo free week being a contest was both a good and bad thing. It was good in the fact that it fired me up inside. I could do this, and dammit, I would do it. But the thing was that I was watching the clock count down to midnight every night, to say to myself that I had made it another day. But as I managed another day without, and got closer and closer to that last day, I started feeling a gnawing feeling inside of me. What if I failed? What if, despite telling myself I would do it, I simply couldn't? At the end of the day, I'm fighting my own body, in all its broken-ness. Would I just end up with overwhelming feelings of disappointment, failure and self loathing? Was I just perpetuating self-defeating behaviours, or was I setting myself a realistic goal? (On the topic of self-defeating behaviours, I highly recommend listening to the podcast on overcoming them on Chronic Babe)
Last night was day seven. And at 22:00 last night, the meter read 3.9mmol/l. One test, two test, three test. They all came up with 3.9. And to get three completely identical tests, without not even 0.1mmol/l variation is SO rare for me that I can't even begin to explain it. I was so close to screaming, crying, smashing up whatever was at hand. I don't know how I didn't, to tell you the truth. Give it five minutes, I said, and see what it says. If it goes back up, it's a meter error. And it did go back up. 4.8mmol/l. False alarm. But what was I doing to myself to achieve this goal? Realistic goals are a great thing, I'm a firm believer in that. But this victory has a slightly bitter taste to it. Because I've been on edge, constantly waiting for this to fall apart. And now, as soon as I find myself having a real hypo, I'm going to feel like a failure. It doesn't matter what I managed before.
So the victory tastes bitter. Possibly because a part of my mind has gone 'Well, if you managed a whole week without hypos, maybe this whole diabetes thing isn't real.'. Now don't even get me started on how freaking stupid that is. (Plus, I'll be talking about that tomorrow, probably) But it is real, and eventually this winning streak is going to end.
This clip from an episode of Scrubs in which Dr Cox and Elliot are chasing a 'perfect game' - a whole 24 hours with no-one dying really says everything for me. And really I should listen to Dr Cox. Watch it (even though this clip from the DVD doesn't have the original music on it, which was much better)
And to end back with the Barenaked Ladies, 'It's been one week since you looked at me, threw your arms in the air and said 'You're crazy!''
And I probably am a little bit. But aren't we all?