My blood sugars have been bad.
So I redo and recheck everything. Change sites. I go for a walk and exercise. I fill myself with water. I even got desperate and started taking shots by siringe.... nothing... it won't go down. I raise my basal rate. I bolus 5, then 10 units. My 340 it slowly slides to 310, and half an hours later it is back up to 332! I leave school early, hating that my past week has been getting worse and worse.
I sloth into my room in pain crashing into my bed and whine about the muscle pain. I moan and hate myself. "What am I doing wrong!?" I have no cheated! I have tried to exercise... what is wrong with me!
I look up lethargically at the vile of insulin next to my bed... I stare it down. It's smug little purple brim shining in the light. It is still almost half full, still fresh only open for 2 weeks. I then toss it in the trash and open a new vile.
The new insulin felt like I was being flooded with the most wholesome of spring breezes, chilling my entire body and then warming. Ah, insulin, the good stuff.
So. Now it is time for the "I did nothing wrong dance."
Don't you hate it when your insulin goes bad early?! This rarely happens, but when it does you really hate everything you have put yourself through trying to find the one flaw in your system.
That was the problem this time.