D Blog Week: Diagnosis M.C.A.F.

Today's topic for D Blog Week is "One thing you need to work on."

Sharing my secret shame:  That's what I get for blowin' my own SWAG-nificent horn yesterday...

 I get put in my place.

I've written about it before.  But it's bad.  It's real bad. 

I have M.C.A.F.

Midnight Check Alarm Fatigue.

If you aren't familiar with this condition, here is an excerpt from Web MD:  The deterioration of certain ear parts, and subconscious elimination of alarm sound in the wee hours of the night.

In other words...I don't wake up to my alarm anymore.

(FYI:  That isn't on Web MD. I made it up...except I didn't .  It's really real.)

I'm so far progressed in this condition that I honestly don't know if the alarm blares music at 10 million decibels, or if it just doesn't go off at all.  There is also a scenario that it  gets turned off by the angels, or Satan....or me. 

I have no recollection of it in the morning, and I'm not happy about it.

Maybe it is years and years and years of me waking up multiple times a night.  Maybe my body is rebelling.  Maybe my brain has to completely check out at night to survive these days.  I don't know. 

I WANT so badly to hear it.

 But since I don't...I have no choice but to stay up.

Lately if things are awry, I'll stay up until 12:30.  If things are really bad I'll ask Ryan to get up for me after that.   Sometimes I set RYAN's alarm, have him wake up, so he can shake me, so I'll get up.

It's one thing that has fallen apart in my diabetes management.  I'm not writing here to argue the merits of a the nighttime check...I believe in it for a million reasons I won't write out today. 

But it is what it is.

Something I need to work on, or rather, something I need to find a solution for.

Luckily, the mySentry alarm DOES wake me. 

Weird.

Classic diabetes conundrum.  Diabetes management never makes perfect sense.

Maybe if I start a M.C.A.F. support group, I'll be able to work through my problem.

I'll be the President.  I'm opening up the floor to nominations for VP.

Wait...do support groups have Presidents? 

Let's make it a club instead...

See how I made my problem fun???  Clubs are fun!  Here is a pic of me in one of my first clubs...

The Starlets!

And how dare you accuse me of using a cute pic of me in a Garfield shirt to distract you from my secret shame!  Well, I NEVER!