By Andy Stuckey
I’m a little late with this post, and you’ll have to forgive me as I’ve been recovering from what I’ll now refer to as a “six-unit Thanksgiving.” I overate this Thanksgiving but took six units of insulin as an estimate for my gluttony and pretty much hit the nail on the head with a blood glucose level of 130 an hour after eating loads of cornbread, turnips, potatoes, turkey, ham, and just a few bites of banana pudding.
It was homemade banana pudding, the custard and all. I had to sample a bite and, for about five seconds during the savor, I drifted back to a pond in Andalusia, Alabama, where my grandmother used to live. Speaking of my grandmother, when a 91-year-old woman fries over 100 pieces of cornbread, it’s hard to resist a minimum of five.
In preparation for the Thanksgiving feast last week, my wife and I played tennis three times, believing somewhere in the backs of our minds that 4–5 hours of exercise would somehow justify the display of chomping. It was about 60° out in south Alabama and perfect weather for outdoor activity…only a minor tragedy struck on the second day of tennis. After we finished our game and were driving home, I noticed that I had a large blood blister on my hand. It was one of the kinds that’s very puffy and purple and, once you know it’s there, you can’t help but look at it or touch it every time you make a fist or look down.
A little perturbed by my silly injury, I knew that something had to be done if I was going to be able to play the next day, and that’s when I reached for my blood glucose meter. Inside I found my trusty finger-pricker and, having just finished exercising, decided this was a perfect time to check my blood glucose.
Did I aim for the much hackneyed pointer or birdie fingers? The ever-so-delicate ring finger? No, sir. I went straight to the palm of my left hand to the blood blister and, just like that, I had a river of blood from which to get my number. I didn’t have to squeeze or set the needle to strike deeper, I just held the test strip in my palm and watched the magic happen.
Let this be a lesson to all you diabetics. There are a number of uses for your finger-pricker. It is, hands down, the best blister-popper around, and I look forward to discovering even more new ways to use this device. Let me know if you have any ideas.
Source URL: https://www.diabetesselfmanagement.com/blog/you-pricked-what/
Andy Stuckey: Andy Stuckey is originally from Alabama and now lives in Brooklyn, New York. He makes money working in television as a producer, writer, and director. His free time is spent playing the guitar, banjo, mandolin, and ukulele. If you stop him on the street, it is likely that he will refer to himself in the third person, as he is doing here. His pancreas does not work. He has Type 1 diabetes. (Andy Stuckey is not a medical professional.)
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