Navigating the Day/Nightlife with Type 1 Diabetes: A Survival Guide

Two years into my new Type 1 life, and here's where I share the nitty-gritty, with a dash of humour, because if you can't laugh at least a little, what's the point?

The Backdrop of My Days

Imagine having a little voice in your head, not the helpful kind that gives you sage advice, but one that constantly reminds you of your glucose levels. Meal times? Forget the joy of spontaneous culinary adventures; now they're strategic operations. Every bite, every sip is calculated down to the carb count. It's like living with a nutritionist with a PhD in paranoia.

The Night Watch

Night-time isn't any better. While most people count sheep, I count the hours until my next glucose test. The fear of 'going low' in my sleep is real – waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing, or worse, not waking up at all. It's like being on night duty, but with no overtime pay.

The Travelling Pharmacy

Going out? It's not just keys, wallet, phone anymore. Add insulin, glucose tabs, my trusty glucometer, and snacks for emergencies. I've become a mobile pharmacy, prepared for any blood sugar fluctuation scenario. Driving? It's not about road rage; it's about stopping every two hours for a glucose check, turning a four-hour trip into a scenic tour of every service station on the M6.

Snack Wars

Here's where it gets ironic. I snack more now than before diabetes, but not out of hunger. It's because my body decides to play hide and seek with my blood sugars. Low? Here, have a biscuit. High? Well, you're just out of luck until you can correct it with insulin. It's like being on a diet enforced by your own pancreas.

The Exercise Conundrum

Exercise used to be fun, a way to unwind or get fit. Now, it's a puzzle. Will it spike my glucose, or will it plummet? It's like playing Russian roulette but with less adrenaline and more carbs. The unpredictability makes physical activities feel like a high-risk venture rather than leisure.

The Highs and Lows

Let's talk about the feelings. High blood sugar feels like I've aged 20 years overnight—lethargy, thirst, and a foggy brain, accompanied by the most annoying tingles in my feet and legs, as if they're hosting a party without inviting the rest of me. On the flip side, lows bring on a dull, dizzy sensation; it's like having a mini earthquake in your head where everything wants to fall down.

The Constant Beep of Destiny

Every time my phone beeps, my eyes roll so hard they might just get stuck. It's my Libra 2 sensor, telling me I'm either high or low, and while I sometimes play the guessing game, deep down, I've learned to read my body's signals. A high feels like my limbs are buzzing, while a low is like that moment when you stand up too quickly after sitting for too long.

Current level as of writing! Ironic I was moaning about high/low alarms!

Nights Out: A New Level of Difficulty

Going out with friends has transformed into an entirely different beast.

• No Shots for Me: Forget tequila or Jägerbombs; I'm the one nursing a Diet Coke while everyone else does shots. It's not about being the designated driver; it's about managing my blood sugar.
• The Bar Order Drill: I've become an expert at double, sometimes triple-checking with bartenders, "Did you get that? Diet Coke, not regular. Diet lemonade, not the full-sugar horror." Misunderstandings here can lead to a sugar spike I'd rather avoid.
• The Constant Check and Snack: Even during the best of times, I'm snacking not for fun but for survival, checking my levels on my phone to see what needs to happen next.
• The Caring Checks: My friends' concern, while nice, can get repetitive. "Have you checked your sugars?" becomes the new "How are you?" It's nice but can wear thin after the tenth time in an evening.
• The Alcohol Balancing Act: Alcohol can initially spike my sugars, but then it drops them like the bass at a rave. This means I often have to eat more or take less insulin, which feels counterintuitive but necessary.
• The Episodes: I've had two major high episodes where I blanked out, not from alcohol, but from sugar spikes. Waking up to stories of my "drunken" antics that were actually diabetes-related is not only embarrassing but downright scary. Losing control over your body when it's meant to be a fun night out is a sobering reality.

In Conclusion

Living with Type 1 diabetes is a balancing act, a dance with numbers, and a journey of constant learning. It's made me more aware, more resilient, and yes, even a bit more cynical about food and social outings. But through it all, there's a silver lining in the form of community, technology, and the occasional humorous take on life's curveballs. If you're navigating this path too, know you're not alone. We're in this together, with our glucometers, our insulin, and our shared stories, turning what could be a bleak narrative into one of solidarity and even, dare I say, a bit of wit.