One D-thing Bigfoot love: paper + pens. Buy so many pens, no guilt. Today exhumed from table linens drawer: every BG ever plus one smoking gnome/fisherman bobblehead doll.
Every, every one. In six still-evolving formats.
This was my first try at designing a BG chart. It’s cute how we used to write down the I:C ratio but not the g CHO. But logical, in its own Amount-of-Food-Surely-Can’t-Matter-As-Long-As-I-Get-the-Math-Right way. Adorable.
And then we moved on to little spiral notebooks, craving more flexibility than spaces for before & after meals. Still no need to write down any g CHO. “Huge snack.” <–SCIENCE!
A few months after diagnosis, we caught on to the idea of writing down the g CHO. Holy crap! The kid used to eat A TON OF CARBS. I know our kids don’t need to be on a low carb diet, but…this was probably a normal day. 80 + 63 + 49 + 100, without blinking an eye. And still no corrections for high BG. Honeymoon stuff, I guess.
Photo above also remind Bigfoot terrible era Bigfoot Spouse use lingo “BTBS,” make Bigfoot feel Ted Turner in room/BSpouse mean BedTimeBloodSugar. Did you get the BTBS? Ugh–beg BSp stop say this expression. Occasionally still leak out. Cringe.
For the next level of sophistication, we began recording verbal clues. Such as “I feel seizure-y,” and then BOOM 39. Connecting the dots.
And then we must have started pumping, and had to use the hospital’s ugly, copy-of-a mimeographed-copy form. Required accompaniment: ugly black binder clip.
This is what we still use, plus the LogFrog iPhone app when I want to email a chart to the endo. My design is an upgrade from the hospital’s, if only because it feels roomier and has space for blood smears.