Staying Sane with Your CGM

You may be reading the title of this blog and thinking it's contradictory.

I need my CGM to stay sane, you mumble to yourself. What is this girl getting on about?

First of all, if you're on a CGM and don't get obsessive with your data, kudos. If you don't let the steady stream of numbers wear on your self-perception and sanity, I'm impressed. I'm also skeptical. Because how could we not become obsessive? The data is always there. At any given moment, we can see what's going on with our blood sugar trends and levels. As someone who's lived for over 20 years without this insight, I must say it's like finally being given the gift of sight.

So if you think you're not over-dependent on your CGM, ask yourself these questions just to check where you're at:

• Can you eat a meal/go to the bathroom/go on a date without having your phone or your receiver by your side?
• Do you catch yourself having a knee-jerk reaction to up or down arrows, and then going high or low due to over-correcting?
• Do you have a significant increase in worry during the warm-up period when you start a new sensor and you don't have access to continuous readings?

I can tell you personally that since starting CGM use, at least one of these has always been a "yes" for me. And that's okay - the CGM is a great tool and we should use the data. But sometimes the constant checking and over-correcting can do more harm than good.

So, to keep myself sane, these are some hacks I've implemented:

• Turn off the "Quick Glance" feature. Quick glance can be a blessing and a curse. It's super helpful for things like work and driving. However, during downtime it's easy to tap your phone awake every 30 seconds to check the BG that's fixed to your screen. I take little vacations from quick glance and usually notice a healthy decrease in how often I check my phone. 

• Use your receiver at night. By now you've probably heard about the impact technology can have on restful sleep. If not, here's the quick & dirty: the closer to bedtime your screen time is, the more interference in getting good Zs. Most experts say to power down an hour before bed. So what I've started doing is powering on that little receiver that many of us have long forgotten, and keeping it on my bedside table. This way I can check my number if needed without getting roped in by Facebook notifications and text messages.

• Set parameters for yourself. Significant change can often come from small steps, if you follow them faithfully and make room for them to become habit. Setting firm, specific rules for yourself can be helpful. For example, "checking my phone less" is too vague; whereas "checking my phone every 1 mile during my run (thanks John from Type One Run Podcast for this tip)" will likely yield more success.

When I'm feeling particularly frazzled by my sugars and staring at the little dots on my Dexcom graph, waiting impatiently for the next one to appear, I remind myself this: there were not always CGMs. There was a time (a long time) where we ate, tested, gave insulin, and let Jesus take the wheel. We tested again when we were symptomatic or eating again. It's possible to survive without the CGM. We can stand to not know our blood sugars every 5 minutes. This re-framing and self-talk helps me work myself out of a data frenzy. Use the CGM tool as a shield, not a sword that you keep falling on.

Back to my Roots

I grew up at summer camp.

More specifically, at diabetes camp.

So when I officially registered for Beyond Type 1 x Connected in Motion's 2019 Maine Slipstream weekend, I was more than a little excited. I mean, this was the stuff of (my) life. Camp is in my blood. And now to go back as an adult, doing adult things (AKA drinking wine, higher rope courses, etc.)? I was extremely privileged to have this opportunity.

Maine did not disappoint. Seven hours and seven states north, my diabuddies and I pulled off the interstate and into the quaint town of Winslow. After about ten minutes, we approached a sign, almost masked by the leafy trees, that read "Camp Caribou." We had arrived. The camp was nestled at the end of a long dirt road, on the edge of large lake. It was abundant with all the camp necessities - volleyball court, waterfront, dusty wooden cabins and, of course, campers!

Over 80 adults living with type 1 diabetes, along with staff living with it as well, attended Slipstream. I felt a rush of nostalgia as we unpacked our bunks, did awkward icebreakers, and had a nighttime bonfire. It was so nice to be able to have an open and honest discussion about living with type 1. About its ups and downs, and about the responsibilities that come with being an adult with this disease. I was amazed to hear the different walks of life people came from - some had been living with type 1 for less than a year, while others had spent over 40 years with it. People came from out of town, out of state, and even out of country! I nestled into my cot that night smelling of bug spray with a smile on my face.

The next day was full of opportunities to play outside. I climbed a 50 ft wall at high ropes, did some paddle boarding, and played a spontaneous game of volleyball with my fellow campers. Throughout the day, sessions were held exploring everything from mindfulness to technology, all with a focus on type 1, and led by people living with it. 

I was lucky enough to grow up attending camp for kids with type 1. It was so nice to see other people who had never had this experience before have it for the first time. Listening to their awe about being surrounded by other people with diabetes was touching.

So what do you pack for a weekend at camp?

Bug Spray.

Seriously. You're gonna need it. Spray it outside the cabin. And even though you use it, you'll still leave with bug bites.

Layers.

Maine is COLD compared to NJ. I regret not packing a second sweatshirt. Bottom line, pack a variety of layers. And always pack extra underwear.

Warm Pajamas.

No matter where you are, in the woods it's cold in the morning and at night. Grab some pajama pants and fuzzy socks. And an extra blanket.

An Extra Pair of Shoes.

Ya know, just in case you get thrown in the lake. Or fall in.