Not So Jazzy

This post is by Katie – read her bio here!

Yesterday morning I woke up and couldn’t find my glucometer.  I opened up the Jazz WaveSense meter that I had gotten for free at the ADA expo.  The reading was 107, what I consider a “glucometer-commericial-worthy” number, but I was shaking and pretty sure I felt lower than that.  As the day went on I followed the Jazz’s lead, but kept having the feeling it was inaccurate.  I did a basic google search, but couldn’t come up with any reviews of the meter’s accuracy.

That evening I felt myself becoming my evil hypoglycemic twin.  I only have a hazy recollection of the period after I tested and Jazz told me I was 60.  While munching on glucose tablets, I got into an argument with Kiran that has something to do with nothing and quickly escalated from there.  I threw a glass vase onto the floor, causing it to smash into pieces.  The water landed on the TV, killing the cable box.  Then I slammed a door and sat in a motionless huff on the couch for about ten minutes before deciding to drink some juice. 

After raising my blood sugar, cleaning the mess, and apologizing profusely to Kiran, we went over to our Thanksgiving potluck with some fellow PWDs.  Thankfully, being around other PWDs meant I could do an on-the-spot experiment.  I had overtreated the low and was extremely high by this point.  On my Jazz meter, I was 356, on a Freestyle Lite I was 289, and on a Precision Xtra I was 291.  I know the margin of error is greater when the bg is higher, but this still seemed to demonstrate the Jazz ran too high.  The Jazz which I had been listening to all day instead of my own body telling me I’m low…

Somehow I was low again after dinner… rollercoastering corrections, most likely.  This time I became my stupid (but harmless) hypoglycemic twin.  I was trying to take home some delicious meatballs that Venus had made and, so Kiran tells me, I stood at the counter as meatballs rolled on and off of the flat spatula, not quite making it into the desired container.  The others yelled at me to test my blood sugar as I refused and watched meatballs roll.  So they tell me.

I am very embarrassed for the havoc I wrecked and feel awful for being so out of control.  While I take responsibility for my actions, I know that I was low and still am not sure how to figure out how much of my behavior was because my brain was deprived of glucose.  And even if it all was, who is to blame besides myself?  Well, one target for me right now is the maker of this Jazz meter.  Not so Jazzy, indeed.  Kiran as well “would like to have a few words with Jazz.”

I conked out last night exhausted from a day of zooming blood sugars.  And this morning, I am well rested and very grateful for the people who stick with me everyday through flying vases and rolling meatballs.  I know it can’t be easy.