Dexcom vibrated on the nightstand and I ignored it. I heard it, but I ignored it. It vibrated again, but this time was accompanied by the ear-splitting “beep” alarm. Instinctively I threw out my arm and dragged the glowing receiver in front of my face. It said I was high, reading me at 184 and the time registered as 4:15 am. I rolled over onto my back, holding the receiver on my chest and allowed my eyes to droop closed again and the screen’s glow lit up the entire bedroom.
“Are you going to handle that,” mumbled Brad, causing me to open my eyes again. I didn’t want to get it, I just wanted to go back to sleep. I reluctantly pricked my finger and tested while my husband stumbled to the bathroom.
“What was it?” Brad asked when he climbed back into bed.
“It was 141, I didn’t need to be awake,” I complained and went back to sleep.
The longer I live with diabetes, the less annoying the various aspects of self-care become. I’m pretty sure that I will never stop being annoyed with the sleep interruptions though. Continue reading