It's interesting how, because of diabetes, numbers have developed such meaning and emotional value in my life. 48, 282, 56, 309, not good. 88, 123, 156, pretty good. 6.5, good for an A1C, 65, a bit low for a bloodsugar. 135, good too, if we're talking about weight or a bloodsugar. 45 is a good number for total carbohydrates at lunch, but really bad for a bloodsugar. 20 is an accomplishment when I'm talking about years of living with diabetes without complications, but not a number I'd ever like to see as a bloodsugar reading.
Numbers are my intellectual experience of diabetes. They are critical tools in my arsenal, providing information to be acted upon. Sometimes they are cause for celebration and pride, and other times, the source of such frustration and sadness. I understand that numbers are good and necessary to living a healthy life with diabetes. But I also find them cold and hard and unrelenting. They can quickly reduce me to a science problem, a statistic, a rating, rather than a person with a soul and heart and mind. I try hard to keep them in perspective, to remember that they are a tool and not a judgement. I try to remember that they are a moment in time. I try to remember that I need them to help me, but I can't let them totally define me.