2:23am
I roll over and then quickly open my eyes when I realize how I feel. I sprint to the bathroom, pee, and walk groggily back to bed. I prepare the shot. Screw on the needle, uncap it, prime it, and get the dose ready. 4 hours too late but it’s better late than never. A sleepy stab and back to sleep.

4:46am
I shoot up in bed, tears streaming down my face. The visions of the nightmare still linger behind my eyes. Dizzy and shaky as can be, I crawl to my meter, poke myself and deposit the blood. Through the tears and blurred vision I read 57. A number far too low.
I drag myself out the door of my bedroom and down the stairs. I get to the kitchen, saving myself is all that’s on my mind. 4 glasses of milk, 2 bagels, a couple crackers, a spoonful of frosting. I lie on the kitchen floor until I can bring it upon myself to travel back upstairs.

6:00am
The alarm goes off. I’m not ready to start the day. A night full of struggles and crappy sleep never equates to anything good. I reluctantly leave the comfort of my bed, get ready and walk out the door. No breakfast, no blood sugar, no insulin. As if it isn’t there. Or at least that’s what I want to feel like.

10:50am
Lunch. Bs- 435 mg/dl. Bullshit or Blood sugar? The world may never know. I pull out the insulin and prepare the shot. Again. Screw on the needle, uncap it, prime it, and ready the dose. This time a little more than I may need. The needle goes in, the needle comes out. With how s***ty I feel eating is really the last thing I want to do. But too bad.
I force myself to down half a yogurt. I follow it with most of a bottle of Diet Mountain Dew, my favorite of the diabetic-friendly drinks.

2:34pm
I walk in the door. Exhausted and in need of a nap. Diabetes has not been nice to me today.
Check again. 132. Good. In fact, it’s great. But probably not for long.
I do the dishes, grab my stuff and walk out the door.

6:27pm
Dinner time approaches. Hoping no one notices, I don’t test my blood sugar. I eat dinner and proceed to have seconds without giving a second thought. No insulin.

7:28pm
I feel the regret in many ways. The bloating, the constant peeing, the headache. I get moody and everyone realizes but I refuse to admit it. Told again and again to test my blood sugar, I want to believe it’s not that. But I know all too well.
I test. The meter reads “ HI, Over 600 mg/dl”. I get what I deserve in this respect. I abuse myself and don’t expect repercussions. How stupid of me.

10:00pm
The day is finally coming to an end. I managed to make it through another day. I test my blood sugar and be sure to give myself my bedtime shot. 45 units. I don’t want a repeat of last night. I slump into bed and let my eyelids close hopefully not to be reopened until 6am.
The struggles of today seemed unbearable but tomorrow’s a new day. A new, hopefully better day. But there are no guarantees and that’s the scary part about having diabetes. I never know when the hormones and chemicals in my body are going to screw me over, when the blood sugars are going to drop or spike or when the insulin just doesn’t work. It’s all just a guessing game.