Glucocoaster

Often when I'm high, I know why (because I again couldn't keep track of all the tiny snacks I was eating at the party or because I couldn't hold my horses when drinking juicy cocktails with friends or because of overtreating lows) or I find it out later (when they don't budge for days and hours I'm probably sick, etc). Today, I didn't have a clue. But - and this is something noteworthy - I did not freak out over it. Nope. Even though I was scary high, I tested 406 and retested 509 mg /dl (yes, 20% accuracy is not enough). Just corrected for it via pen, changed my set (which had to be changed anyway but seemed to be fine) and then, admittedly impatient and unable to really concentrate on anything (else), waited for the sugars to come down. I did not rage bolus, in fact, I corrected for the 400 only and then again for the remaining 191 three hours later. Carefully. And now I'm at 61.

Glucocoasters. I haz them.