#so if i apply to like 2 dozen jobs and none of them pan out then i’ll Know the timing is wrong. the market is bad

[gobbluthbutagirl]

crazy how if you google “how many job applications per week” (which you probably shouldn’t google anyway) you get one result saying doing 2-3 a day is good, one result saying doing 5-10 a day is good, and one result saying doing 11-20 a day is good. So basically, do whatever the hell you want forever

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky (Ch. 2)

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: So, @cheapbourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.

To quote straight from the source because I love this:

•Expedition leader/ survivalist guide Edge •Theoretical astronomer Rus •Location: Scott South Pole Station/South Pole Telescope •Guest stars: snow, cold, stars, & budding affections

I couldn’t resist, so here we are.

Warning: I am not a scientist, sadly, and while I did some research on the South Pole Station and Antarctica in general, I can only assume I’ve made mistakes here. I also took a lot of liberties and I know it. This is all in fun, so, forgive me for my errors and since this is already an AU, let’s pretend that it’s an Alternate Earth where these things are correct and I didn’t screw anything up.Here we go…

Chapter 2

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

His bones were barely dry from the gloriously hot shower by the time Edge was readying himself to go back outside. The provisions would have been dealt with by now but Red hadn’t come in from the vehicle shed. Not worrying, yet, but always better to double and triple check when in doubt, particularly this far from civilization.

He stepped outside into fading daylight, trudging through light layer of new snow. They were coming into the cycle of shorter days, much to Alphys’s delight. Her research involved alternate power sources and the only issue that arose during this time was her reluctance to sleep while she did her experiments.

Edge’s interest for her research ended at the point where it provided the station with plenty of power and hot showers, and lately where it helped his brother. Her skills would have given her a permanent place on the station whether or not her relationship with Undyne bloomed as it did. That it had, and that it gave Undyne someplace else to focus her relentless attention was a gift to them all.

The lights were on in the shed and a brief search found his brother’s legs, sticking out from beneath one of the Sno Cats.

“Is something wrong?” Edge asked loudly, waiting as his brother jerked and then cursed vigorously, squirming out from under the Cat. His knit cap was askew, and he straightened it, glaring at Edge.

“fuck, bro,” Red grumbled, “slam the door or somethin’, would ya? and nah, nothing wrong, just some maintenance. how is the group settlin’ in?”

“If you’d bothered to come inside when they got here, you’d know.”

Red only grinned unabashedly and shook his head. “that’s your job, boss. the only reason i keep ‘em alive is there’s too much paperwork if someone croaks.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Edge said dryly. He gave the shed a glance, taking in neat line of snow-ready vehicles. “I expect some of them will need transport tomorrow, is everything ready?”

“ready freddy,” Red agreed. He picked up a dirty rag from the floor and wiped his greasy hands fruitlessly. “so, what’s with the monster in the group?”

“How did you know about that?” Edge sighed, rhetorical as the question was.

Red confirmed it with a sly grin. “undyne. said there was an actual skeleton monster.”

“There was.” Edge refused to expand on the subject despite his brother’s eagerness. Instead, he crooked a finger at Red in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Come here.”

Red scowled but he did, grudgingly stepping closer. His frown deepened as Edge pulled off his ski cap, carefully examining his skull. The spiderweb of cracks beneath it looked better than only days before, but the soft, healing glow normally concealed by his cap was fading.

“You need to see Alphys for another treatment,” Edge told him, handing back the knit cap.

“yeah, yeah.” Red wandered over to his work bench, tossing his cap on it and straightening tools that didn’t need attention. “she’s already on me. tells me a few more treatments and it’ll be fused. then i can stop playing the hipster and let my skull out for some air.”

“If you wouldn’t get your skull busted open, you wouldn’t have these problems,” Edge pointed out, but he walked over to rub gentle fingertips over his brother’s skull, careful to skirt the damaged areas.

Red knocked his hand away, but without any real force. “i’ll try harder next time, boss. now what about the other skellie?”

Edge only shook his head. “You can see him at dinner, if you bother to show up."

“uh huh. speaking of chow, might want to check in on bun-bun.”

Truly, his brother had a skill for irritating others that few could imitate. “When she kills you for calling her that, I’m not going to stop her.”

“eh, she’d have to catch me first,” Red gave him a wolfish grin, hopping up to sit on the workbench with his legs dangling. It put them closer to a height and he smirked into Edge’s face as he said, “anyway, got her the supplies but she’s about to shit a brick if you don’t give her a headcount.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Edge reached out to smack him, fully expecting his brother to dodge the way he did. “You could have checked the manifest.”

“coiulda, shoulda, didn’t.”

“Finish up with the vehicles,” Edge sighed, and put his goggles back into place, heading back out to face the station cook. Night had fallen completely while he was in the vehicle shed, the first swirls of the aurora twisting overhead. Edge barely glanced at it, headed for the main door to face a little wrath.

~~*~~

From the delicious aroma that was coming from the kitchen area, Bonnie was caramelizing onions for whatever was on tonight’s dinner menu. The hydroponic gardens provided enough vegetables for her to be reasonably generous with them and so long as the core generator functioned, none of his charges would be dying of a scurvy, at least.

Edge waited in the doorway, watching her expertly switch between stirring pots and scraping pans, until she looked up. Then he signed, Did you need any help?

He was a decent cook in his own right, but the kitchen was Bonnie’s domain and he did not like to impose. On occasion, she did let him play prep cook, and chopping vegetation could be mindlessly relaxing. But generally, she preferred to work alone, especially on a day like today with a new roster of Humans with new tastes and dietary needs. Anytime Edge wanted to cook on his own was scheduled in advanced.

She didn’t stop what she was doing but her pointed look was telling. He smirked a little and gave in.

Twelve new, he signed. Eleven humans, one Monster.

That caught her attention enough that she actually set her spoon aside to sign back, Monster? Never had Monster before.

He shrugged and she nodded slowly, then went back to her pots and pans. Past knowing how many she was cooking for and their needs, Bonnie had little interest in their charges.

Special needs? she asked

Two listed vegetarian, Edge signed, none listed allergies.

She nodded again, vaguely pleased. Easy group.

She would certainly know. Bonnie had been with them from the start.

As a member of the Bun clan, she was of medium height, her furry ears reaching up to Edge’s chin, and Edge didn’t know what had caused her badly scarred face, leaving her with one eye cloudy and sightless. Not any more than she knew where he’d gotten his scars. Edge also didn’t know what had driven her up this far away from her surely enormous family and the larger Monster community and didn’t ask. Bonnie had applied for the job and demonstrated her skill at it. Nothing more was required.

But she was one of them and tonight, she would find a flash drive on her side table with Red’s symbol on it, along with dozens of new specialty books for her kindle reader and in return, there would be fresh cranberry scones for breakfast this weekend, a special favorite of his brother’s.

Their friendship was a mixture of antagonism and silent affection and Edge left them to it. He was rather fond of the scones as well.

Besides, who was he to judge when he was friends with Undyne.

Bonnie’s attention was once again completely focused on her cooking and Edge left her to it to finish his checks. Dinner would be within the hour and he was resigned to the fact that it was going to be eventful, one way or another.

~~*~~

By the time Edge got to their version of a mess hall, most of the researchers were already there. The table had the capacity for about twenty people, even those like their scholars who had laptops and notepads in front of them, the barest murmur of conversation carrying through the room.

Their facility was a small one but one of the priciest to visit. The remote location kept them from being overrun with cruise ship tourists and their equipment was top of the line, the best Humans and Monsters had to offer.

All researchers and scientists paid top dollar to come here and it was Edge’s job to ensure that they had all the basic tools they needed to work, plus as much comfort as could be reasonably provided. Tomorrow Undyne would show them the recreation facilities with her version of firm encouragement to use them. Overworking helped no one, a lesson that Alphys had taught them well.

Red was sitting at the far end of the table, slouching half-asleep and still wearing his sunglasses. Not that they needed them, snow blindness was not an issue without actual eyes, but it was a good reminder to speak to everyone about wearing their goggles during the daylight hours.

Next to him was Undyne and when she saw Edge come in, she grudgingly took apart the tower of forks and knives she was building. The chair next to her was empty and when Edge glanced at it, Undyne shrugged.

“Alphys isn’t coming down today,” she said, low.

Edge only nodded. Their engineer’s tolerance for outsiders varied by the day and she often took her meals in her room for the first week or so a new group arrived.

The door opened, catching his attention and he turned in time to see Rus, the only person still missing. He glanced at a chair at the end of the long table, but chose instead to sit a little away from the others, closer to Edge and his team.

Edge couldn’t say he was surprised. Even Humans who claimed to be intellectuals could have their prejudices against Monsters and their time on the boat had surely given Rus an idea of how his companions would be treating him. Simply the differences in their wardrobes, the others in the crisp winter-wear and Rus in a baggy orange sweatshirt layered over thermals spoke volumes.

The door to the kitchen swung on its hinges and Bonnie emerged, carrying steaming serving dishes to the tables. To their credit, none of the Humans or Rus reacted strongly to her appearance. There was nothing more than murmur of thanks in a variety of languages and a few glances sent Edge’s way.

Good, they were learning.

He waved a hand at them, “Go ahead, we don’t stand much on ceremony here.”

A few more trips and soon the table was loaded with bowls. The food tended toward simpler, filling fare, generously seasoned, and all of it smelled tantalizing. If they could make one smug claim about the facility, it would be that no one had ever gone home and complained about the food.

Edge took a buttery roll from one of the plates, tearing it open to spread it with their newly received strawberry jam. He ate it in two bites, not even bothering to stifle a groan of pleasure as it fairly melted in his mouth.

Thank you, Edge signed as Bonnie sat a platter of fragrant roasted vegetables in front of him. Undyne absently copied him before snagging a roll for herself, her sharp teeth tearing into the soft bread. Her ability to talk in hands was barely past mediocre even if she’d had all ten fingers, but she was learning.

More startling was the way Rus signed it as well, adding on looks delicious.

It was possible that Bonnie’s stoic expression softened, just slightly. She nodded to him and went back to the kitchen.

The muted conversation faded beneath hungry appreciation. All of them were probably starving after the trek earlier and there was plenty for everyone. Calorie intake was important, to keep up their strength, and Bonnie would ensure that everyone had their fair share.

Undyne ate with haste past her normal eagerness for food and it was only after she washed her plate and set it in the drainer that Edge learned why.

She sauntered over to the other side of the table where Rus was sitting, and her grin was not one that filled Edge with comfort. Rus seemed to agree; he stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyeing her warily.

“Well, hey there, pal,” Undyne slung an arm over Rus’s shoulders and gave him a little shake. He froze, looking at her from corner of his socket. “Don’t think I caught your name.”

“rus.” That single word was a sort of rusty squeak. The nerve he’d dredged up against Edge earlier seemed to desert him when faced with Undyne, but Edge wasn’t about to hold that against him. It showed a good instinct in self-preservation.

“Well, hiya, Rus,” Undyne purred, and it sent unease prickling up Edge’s spine. “What’re you in for?”

“research?” he offered weakly and she laughed, giving him a noogie that was firm enough for him to wince.

“Yeah, that part I know. On what?”

“for my thesis?” There was little confidence in him that this answer would satisfy Undyne.

“You’re a grad student?” Edge asked, frowning. Every other researcher that had ever been here had at the very least a PhD, more likely several.

“yeah? so?” There was a certain defensiveness there, a ghost of his earlier fire.

One of the others, an older Human male with an almost palpable arrogance opened his mouth as though about to insert himself into the conversation. Undyne only stared at him with stony coldness.

He turned his attention back to his plate.

Well, it was a definite improvement over her past ways of dealing with those she deemed as assholes.

Rus looked as though he wished he’d gotten the reprieve, no matter what insult the Human had to offer.

“Nothing wrong with it, kid, just unusual.” She bluntly ignored Rus’s muttered ‘not a kid.’ “Don’t think we’ve ever had a grad student out here before. The spots in the rotation fill up fast and it takes more than a semester of student teaching to cover the price tag. So, either you have a sugar daddy who pulled the strings to get you here or your research is of the more black ops variety. Which is it?”

Rus smirked then, unexpectedly, and tipped his head back against her arm where it still lay across his shoulders. “you have something against sugar mamas or are you just offering?”

A pinprick of crimson flared in Undyne’s eyes. For one moment, Edge tensed, waiting for an explosion but finally Undyne threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, he’s fun.” Her next noogie was nearly fierce enough to send him face first into his plate. “You’ve got it all wrong, I could use a sugar momma of my own if you’ve got one laying around. Go ahead and eat up, fashion victim, you’re gonna need it.”

Undyne went back to her seat, lounging back in her chair, and picking at her teeth with a sharp-clawed finger. Rus blinked a couple times and then went back to his dinner. But not without giving Edge a measuring sideways glance. One that Edge returned with a raise brow bone as he chewed his own food.

The muted conversation on the other side of the table dwindled as the others left, following Undyne’s silent lead in scraping their plate into the bin marked ‘food waste’ then washing it and setting it to drain.

The sight relaxed a last bit of tension in Edge’s soul. This group seemed like they would maintain their professionalism. In the past, they had ended up with the occasional researcher who didn’t understand the concept of pulling their own weight. Thus far, this group seemed to be willing to follow the unspoken rule.

Rus follow suit but unlike the others, he hesitated at the table. “let the cook know the grub was delicious, will ya?”

“Tell her yourself in the morning,” Undyne challenged.

“oh, i will, never hurts to hear it twice.” He waggled his fingers with a grin. “so to speak. i’m still whipped, think i’ll turn in early. sleep well, undyne.” He paused and Edge didn’t think he imagined the way his voice lowered in pitch, smooth as expensive whiskey, “sleep well, boss.”

“You as well,” Edge said evenly.

He didn’t mean to watch him walking away, the hint of a sway in his hips beneath those concealing sweatpants. When the door closed behind him, Edge stood to wash his own plate but there was no escape from Undyne’s sharp whistle.

“Oh, honey, he has your number,” Undyne said, gleefully.

“He said three words to me.” Edge rinsed his plate impatiently, setting it in the drying tray with a clack.

“Yeah, but was the way he said it.” From her delight, one would think she’d gotten a chance at second Gyftmas. “Lotta sex he managed to infuse into those three words. Better make sure you take him to your quarters. You’ve got better soundproofing and I’ve got odds on him being a screamer.”

“Undyne—"

“Not too late to bet that 10g.” She glanced at Red. To the unknowing eye, he would have seemed asleep, his plate pushed to the side and his skull resting on his folded arms. “You’ve been keeping quiet all fucking night, shithead. Don’t you think your brother needs to cut himself a slice of that?”

“yeah, i don’t think so.” Surprised, Edge sat back down. He was counting on his brother joining in with Undyne’s teasing. His seriousness was entirely unexpected and potentially worrisome. “that one has trouble written on his ass, in sharpie. i think you need to keep it in your pants, boss.”

Undyne’s grin faded a little. “What’re you thinking, little boss?”

He slipped his sunglasses down, the crimson of his eye lights glaring over the rims. “i’m thinking he avoided answering your question. he never did tell you what he’s researching. they aren’t required to, trade secrets and all that shit, but usually they can’t shut up about it. so why didn’t he?”

Undyne shrugged. “So? Maybe he didn’t feel like it. You’ve never given a shit about any of their research before, anyway.”

“that was before we had another monster on the roster.” Red pulled his sunglasses off completely and Edge didn’t think his brother even knew he was rubbing a light hand over the cap on his skull. “we’re here because we are uniquely suited to months of limited sunlight and better cold tolerances than most humans. we’ve never had a monster come to do research. all i’m wondering is why now?”

“Don’t think that one is going to be able to add cold tolerance to his resume anytime soon.” More seriously, Undyne asked him, “You want me to keep an eye on him?”

“nothing obvious, but yeah.” Red ran a finger over his plate, swiping up a trace of gravy and licking it away. “boss, there’s nothing i can put a finger on, but my instincts are telling me something is strange about him being here. and that jacket of his has an embassy patch.”

“That’s true,” Edge murmured.

“The embassy?” Undyne scoffed. She slammed a fist on the table, sending silverware bouncing. “Those fuckers haven’t bothered us since they tossed us on our asses. They haven’t said so much as a fuck you to us in years. He paid his dues, he hopped the boat. doesn’t mean the Embassy has anything to do with it.

“And if they are involved in his presence here, why would he be wearing the jacket?” Edge added. He couldn’t say he agreed with his brother’s concerns, but Red had sensed strange threats in the past. It was difficult to say if this was a similar situation or paranoia.

Red could only shrug. “still doesn’t mean they don’t.

“Fair enough, little boss. But I think you’re wrong about one thing. If the big boss here gets in our fashion victim’s pants, we’ll get the info live and squirming.” She nudged Edge with a vicious elbow, and he pushed her roughly away, hard enough to knock her to the floor. She lay there cackling, one leg sprawled over the seat of her chair.

And there was the conspiring glee he’d been expecting from his brother. Red laughed, showing off sharp, gleaming teeth, “hey, she ain’t wrong, might want to rethink that plan, boss.”

“You’re both fired,” Edge grumbled. “All right, fine, keep an eye on him for a few days, Undyne. I’m going to do final rounds and then I’m hitting the sack. This was a long fucking day.”

“Could be a long night fucking if you stop by to read Ruuuuuus a bedtime story,” Undyne sang out from the floor.

Edge ignored her and his brother’s snickering, and started through his nighttime checklist. He didn’t spend a moment thinking about pale eye lights and a whiskey smooth voice, of a sleepy figure in a bed, cozied into a blanket.

It was early yet but his own bed was calling his name. His empty bed, thank you, and that was how it would remain.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

The Great Pizza and Diabetes Experiment

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/the-great-pizza-and-diabetes-experiment/

The Great Pizza and Diabetes Experiment

I hate pizza. Sure, it has that great smell. Yeah, it has an amazing look, as steam rises up over a landscape of melted cheeses dotted with toasted veggies and crisp meats. Oh, and the taste is wonderful, a molten fusion of flavors that rocks the taste buds.

But I still hate pizza.

Because no matter what I do, it effs up my blood sugar. Big time.

And I’m not alone.

The problem is that every pizza is two glucose highs waiting to happen. There are fast sugars in the crust and in the sauce, and there are slow carbs in the cheeses and meats. And pizza’s challenges for the pancreatically-challenged are everywhere.

Pan, hand-tossed, or thin crust?

What toppings?

How generous or stingy is the cook?

Does one brand have more sugar in their sauce than another?

And what about the slices? A “slice” of pizza has a published carb count in many cases, but rarely are pizzas cut uniformly. It’s a nightmare.

In wondering how on earth we're supposed to deal with all of this, my solution has been to avoid pizza altogether.

So you can imagine how I felt when the 'Mine team asked me to take on pizza as the next in our line of "great food experiments" that have included ketchup, coffee, and craft beer so far. Given that March is National Nutrition Month, it seemed like a perfect time for the so-called Great Diabetes and Pizza Experiment.

Know Thy Enemy

I started by studying the enemy. And there’s a lot of information out there, despite the fact that pizza sales are actually on the decline with only $38,504,164,116 in sales last year. For those of you who can’t count your commas, that's $38 billion!

There are more than a dozen brands of pizza out there and they have a pretty big carb range. Or so it would appear at first glance. But something interesting is lurking in the math. As I compared products, I noticed that the serving sizes varied a lot, too, ranging from 85 grams up to 152 grams.

Digging deeper into the math, I divided the carbs into the serving sizes to find out the carb impact of each kind of pizza on a per-gram basis. And when I did, I was stunned. Pizza -- regardless of crust or topping or brand -- has a carb impact very close to 0.23 carbs per gram.

Could it be true? Was there, lurking in all the confusion of size and style and brand, a universal pizza bolus? Do we just need to weigh any piece of pizza and multiply the results by 0.23 to get the carb count? Could it really be that simple?

Time to find out...

Pizza Science in Action

I ran a small-scale scientific experiment. And to gain the most data beyond just myself, I recruited a second lab rat: a fellow T1D sister who is a pizza-lover and didn't need much arm-twisting to join in on this experiment offering free pizza dinners.

Like me, she’s on insulin pens and CGM. We agreed we’d both do a fingerstick calibration as a baseline before the meal, then record the CGM readings at two and four hours.

In a perfect world, peak glucose would be in two hours, and at four hours we should be back to our normal fasting blood sugar levels.

Of course, a perfect world wouldn’t include a diabolical food like pizza.

Each of the pizza meals would be limited to two pieces of pizza, with no sides. I wanted my data to be as pure as parmesan. But to drink I selected low-carb dry red wine, because I love wine more than science.

Here’s my lab journal:

Experiment One: Pizza Hut

We opened the cardboard box and beheld the pizza. “You have a really tough job,” said my D-sis, “Having to eat pizza and all...” Then she pointed to a slice on the left, and then one across the pizza from it. “I’ll take this one, and that one.”

I transferred her choices to the waiting paper plate on my digital Salter kitchen scale. We had used the “tare” function to erase the weight of the plate before adding the pizza. Her two slices clocked in at 207 grams. I multiplied that by our theoretical universal constant of 0.23 and came up with a carb count of 47.61. “Round it up to 48,” I suggested, and she entered the figure into her RapidCalc app, along with her (grossly) above-target blood sugar, and took a combined pizza and correction bolus.

She said the carb count sounded waaaaaaay too low to her. I did the math on my two slices after weighing them, and the count sounded waaaaaaay too high to me.

What happened? Surprisingly, not much. I went up a bit, but not too badly. D-sis came down, but not as far as she would have liked. Here, check it out:

Base 2 HR 4 HR

Wil 137 193 235

D-sis 342 242 201

The glucose response to the pizza was better than either of us usually see with traditional carb counting, and we were amazed by how close our final sugars were, especially given how far apart they were at the start.

Experiment Two: Little Caesars

Much like KFC has fried chicken cooked and waiting, Little Caesars has cheese and pepperoni pizzas waiting for eager eaters at all hours. During the dinner rush, a wider array of options is available. Price-wise, they are about half the cost of Pizza Hut, and the flavor was great. How’d it work out blood sugar-wise?

I’m happy to report that, using the universal constant of 0.23 carbs per gram, the Little Caesars hand-tossed 3 Meat Treat treated my blood sugar similarly to the way that the Pizza Hut Pan Meat Lover’s did. Which is to say, hardly perfect, but better than I’ve ever experienced in the past.

Both of the test subjects started with respectable numbers this time. I stayed flat with a slight rise towards the end, but had no excursion whatsoever. My D-sister dropped a bit in the middle, and rose more sharply towards the end, but nothing to write home about -- especially since this is pizza we're talking about.

Here are our numbers:

Base 2 HR 4 HR

Wil 146 151 161

D-sis 134 106 186

Despite the fact that Little Caesars and Pizza Hut pizzas have radically different crust styles, the “universal” constant delivered similar results: Basically a fairly flat response, ending above target, but not hideously so.

Experiment Three: Totino’s Frozen Pizza

Science is a lot of work: Get the frozen pizzas out of the oven, cut them, weigh the servings for me and my D-sis on the scale, multiply the grams of weight by the universal bolus figure of 0.23 to get the carbs, enter the carb count and current blood sugar into RapidCalc, and record all the figures in my notes for this article—all before the damn pizza got cold!

Meanwhile my D-sis quickly turned her iPhone upside down after entering her blood sugar. I sighed. “How bad is it?” I asked her.

Four hundred and thirty-five fricken’ mg/dL. “What on earth did you do?” I asked, whereupon she admitted to eating “yummy” cake and forgetting to bolus for it. Naturally I read her the riot act about being an irresponsible D-person. Then I sat down to eat my pizza.

When the two-hour alarm went off I checked my CGM. I was at 276 with a quartering arrow up. What the f---?! How could that be?! That high… And still rising!

We put our heads together to figure out what went wrong. One idea was that the “universal bolus” didn’t work for frozen pizzas, as they have a higher crust-to-topping ratio than restaurant-type pizzas. While I could buy that, I just couldn’t reconcile it with an excursion that bad. “It almost looks like I didn’t take any insulin at all…” I started to say.

“That would be being an irresponsible D-person,” said my D-sis with a triumphant twinkle in her eye.

I activated my Echo pen and looked at the base. The last bolus was many, many, many hours before. Well, shit. I was so busy figuring out the bolus, that I had forgotten to take it.

Base 2 HR 4 HR

Wil 155 276 --

D-sis 435 -- --

I terminated the experiment at two hours. Then I took a rage bolus, and ate the leftovers.

Experiment Four: Local Fare

Of course, none of this science does us any good if it only works for chain pizza. The real prize is having a method for taking on local mystery pizza. The final phase of our experiment was to apply the universal constant to local pizza and see if the numbers came out similar to the numbers we saw on the brand-name pizzas.

I packed my scale and we headed to J.C’s New York Pizza Department, a combination eatery and three-lane bowling alley on the Plaza in the heart of my town of Las Vegas, New Mexico — the Las Vegas you can’t see from space.

Did it “work”? Did we get readings similar to our first two experiments?

No. Damn it.

Base 2 HR 4 HR

Wil 127 128 263

D-sis 188 317 359

D-sis shot up crazy-high before the two-hour check and continued to drift up. Eight minutes short of the final check she bailed and took insulin. I stayed flat for the first two hours, then began a sharp rise.

So much for science.

D-Pizza Takeaways

What did I prove in the end?

Well, even if there may be a universal carb-count for pizza, navigating this using traditional insulin may not allow for steady numbers unless you can plan ahead and dose accurately each and every time.

In other words, Your Pizza May Vary (YPMV), just as Your Diabetes May Vary and everything under the sun plays into the Blood Sugar Effect you'll experience when consuming this kind of pie.

For me in the end, the Great Pizza Experiment proved nothing... beyond the fact that I’m justified in really hating pizza.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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