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.
I had a functioning pancreas all throughout high school and college, but I suffered from sleep disorders that were directly related to stress, emotional issues and inconsiderate roommates. I can clearly recall a 48 hour period when I didn’t sleep in high school because stress wouldn’t allow me to turn off my brain. There were nights in college when the ruckus outside (and sometimes inside) my apartment wouldn’t quiet down until 2am and I had to be up at 5am to go to work. There were very late evenings when I kicked loud guests, and occasionally my roommates, out of the apartment so I could sleep.
When Brad and I had our own place and I felt safe, snuggled up to my husband every night, I thought the worst of my sleep problems were over. Then I got diabetes and it all came back. And it came back worse. I can’t blame others though, this time it’s all one internal organ causing my sleep problems. There are nights when I can’t stop reviewing my day’s numbers, carb counts and patterns over in my head. There are times when I’m reduced to tears because my site has failed and I just want to sleep instead of replace my pod. There are nights when I wake up shaking and sweating with a low blood sugar and am scared to go back to sleep.
There are some early mornings when my Dexcom reads low, and I don’t know whether to hope I am low and it woke me up for a good reason, or hope that I’m fine so I can just go back to sleep.
I’m sick and tired (mainly tired) of feeling like my body is waging war against me. Every morning Brad asks me, “How did you sleep?” and I would love to be able to say that I slept well. At least occasionally.
I really just wish that diabetes would take a rest and let me get a good night’s sleep.