Post 2 for Diabetes Blog Week
When I was diagnosed, I took the entire event as a personal challenge. I had doctors and nurses and dietitians telling me my boundaries. What I can still do, what I can't. What I now have to do. It was new territory for me. No one tells me what I am capable of! Ok, so that wasn't my mindset at first (lying in a hospital bed hooked up to tubes and wires with a BS of 598 while doctors hastily explained to me what diabetes was--I was in no mood for questioning anyone). But as things progressed and I slowly became more comfortable with my new condition, the old me came back to life. What do you mean the honeymoon period only lasts a few months? My endocrinologist told me one of her patients honeymooned for two years. I can do that. I can do anything!
I was in better health that first year with diabetes than I had been my entire life (and still am). I ate good food. I exercised with an intense enthusiasm. And I never stressed about anything (I was just happy to be alive). I calculated and administered my insulin with the precision you would expect from an up and coming scientist. I brought my A1C down from 13 to 5.4 in the first three months. I mastered the carb count and adjusted my meal sizes to align my insulin perfectly to the BS I wanted to have two hours after I ate. I took my doctor's advise and tailored it to fit what I wanted to do, to my own boundaries (which were none, of course!).
Two months ago I went down to the Barbara Davis Center to get some tests done. After getting information from me about my current insulin needs (which still fluctuate constantly--my long acting dose can be anywhere between 9u and 2u depending on the day--that's a three year honeymoon by my count) my doctor called me "atypical." Atypical? As in not adhering to predicted boundaries and expectations? Yes.
And that is what I am great at. Being atypical.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
Find a Friend
Post 1 for Diabetes Blog Week
A diabetic friend. I have to confess, I have always wanted one. Someone who would understand why I get so anxious about ordering food at restaurants. Someone to lend me some test strips when I wait too long to renew my prescriptions. Someone to talk me down when I'm standing in front of a tray of free donuts. And someone who will be angry along with me when my blood sugars spike for no reason (instead of trying to tell me everything will be fine and it's no big deal).
Unfortunately (big sigh), I have no PWD friends. The only other person in my family that has T1D was my mom's cousin (you can bet my diagnosis came as a bit of a shocker). No coworkers. Not even friends of friends. My great uncle (who I have met twice) has type 2. The hour I spent talking with him the last time he came to town was one of the greatest hours ever. He spoke my language! Well... almost.
I have no real diabetes friends. So I blog (virtual friends can be just as good). And I read blogs. I bitch with others about the trials and tribulations of this disease through the written word. I celebrate with them through links and pictures and comments.
One of my favorite blogs (and the one that really pushed me to start my own) is Kerri Morrone Sparling's Six Until Me. I read her posts and fantasize about being that involved in the D community. I wish I could talk face to face with others going through this. I wish I could fly to Europe to learn about new research and products. I wish I had a pump. (This is my absolute favorite blog from SUM. It still makes me laugh!) After all the envy has faded, I go and write my own very different blog about going at it alone. About searching for the natural remedy that will lower my insulin needs to an affordable level. And about the adventures that spring from that kind of independent mind set.
But in the end, this blog is (as they all really are) about finding a friend.
A diabetic friend. I have to confess, I have always wanted one. Someone who would understand why I get so anxious about ordering food at restaurants. Someone to lend me some test strips when I wait too long to renew my prescriptions. Someone to talk me down when I'm standing in front of a tray of free donuts. And someone who will be angry along with me when my blood sugars spike for no reason (instead of trying to tell me everything will be fine and it's no big deal).
Unfortunately (big sigh), I have no PWD friends. The only other person in my family that has T1D was my mom's cousin (you can bet my diagnosis came as a bit of a shocker). No coworkers. Not even friends of friends. My great uncle (who I have met twice) has type 2. The hour I spent talking with him the last time he came to town was one of the greatest hours ever. He spoke my language! Well... almost.
I have no real diabetes friends. So I blog (virtual friends can be just as good). And I read blogs. I bitch with others about the trials and tribulations of this disease through the written word. I celebrate with them through links and pictures and comments.
One of my favorite blogs (and the one that really pushed me to start my own) is Kerri Morrone Sparling's Six Until Me. I read her posts and fantasize about being that involved in the D community. I wish I could talk face to face with others going through this. I wish I could fly to Europe to learn about new research and products. I wish I had a pump. (This is my absolute favorite blog from SUM. It still makes me laugh!) After all the envy has faded, I go and write my own very different blog about going at it alone. About searching for the natural remedy that will lower my insulin needs to an affordable level. And about the adventures that spring from that kind of independent mind set.
But in the end, this blog is (as they all really are) about finding a friend.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Never too Soon for Friday
Thank you, thank you! It's finally Friday. And a real Friday for me for once. No work tomorrow! Instead I get to cruise down to the parent's house to spend some time with my mom on her special holiday. I will also be attending a natro-path convention where my friend will have a booth set up. I'm hoping to find some potions/supplements/superfoods to experiment with.
Next week is the Third Annual Diabetes Blog Week! I am so excited to be a part of it this year. If you are on a mission to find more D Blogs or if you know someone who needs some serious educating on the subject, this is the perfect way to get it done! (This little event will also force me to post a blog a day next week--that's 7 whole posts for those counting. It will be a great challenge for me!)
Now all I have to do is survive today. It all starts with a latte (my special Friday reward), then a long, busy, eight hour shift with sixty plus very excited pooches, and hopefully time for two baths for a couple very stinky hounds of my own.
Next week is the Third Annual Diabetes Blog Week! I am so excited to be a part of it this year. If you are on a mission to find more D Blogs or if you know someone who needs some serious educating on the subject, this is the perfect way to get it done! (This little event will also force me to post a blog a day next week--that's 7 whole posts for those counting. It will be a great challenge for me!)
Now all I have to do is survive today. It all starts with a latte (my special Friday reward), then a long, busy, eight hour shift with sixty plus very excited pooches, and hopefully time for two baths for a couple very stinky hounds of my own.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
The Red Tape
I read an article yesterday about a woman who was on a seemingly endless search for a daycare that would take her diabetic toddler. The ones that were willing to accept him either would not give him his insulin (they expected the mother to leave work multiple times a day to give him injections and check his BS) or they would only enroll him if she was willing to pay double. This seems illegal. And it is. But who has the time to get a lawyer involved? (Especially considering that in the end, the Americans with Disabilities Act only dictates they allow the child to come to daycare, they can still choose not to give him his medication.)
Unfortunately, diabetics see this kind of thing everywhere. I believe there is really only two reasons for it: ignorance and liability. Diabetes is a scary, mysterious disease that causes people's feet to fall of without warning! They may fall into a coma at any moment! Ignorance. (Liability on the other hand is a much bigger issue. Sue thy neighbor has practically become an American pastime.)
Shortly after reading this article, I went to yoga class. Before instructing everyone to move into shoulder stand, the teacher warned that anyone with high or low blood pressure, or anyone with diabetes should move into candle stick instead. Why? Does the simple fact that I have the disease make sticking my feet in the air a death sentence? Am I going to fall into one of those mysterious, spontaneous comas from attempting a simple inversion? No of course not. In fact I with my stellar cholesterol levels, perfect blood pressure, resting heart rate of 57, and 5 doctor check-ups a year, am probably the last one in the class that is going to die from doing a shoulder stand (I tried this same argument on a health insurance agent, to no avail).
What the teacher should have said is, "Anyone with high or low blood sugar may not want to attempt the shoulder stand. Oh and by the way, you probably don't want to be at yoga class right now. Maybe you should get that taken care of."
The first time I went to get a massage after being diagnosed, I noticed some fine print on the questionnaire. Right below the box that asks you to identify which diseases and conditions you have, there was a small side-note that said something about not being able to work on anyone with diabetes unless they provide a doctor's note. Now to me, that seemed a little silly (what am I, in elementary school?). And diabetes is a pretty big header to categorize people under. Type 1, type 2? Newly diagnosed? There is a big difference between a ten year old with well controlled type 1 and an overweight eighty year old suffering from neuropathy.
I did what any respectable diabetic would do. I ripped off my medical alert bracelet and lied on the form.
Tattoo and piercing release forms have the same fine print. I can bet I took better care of my tattoos than the tens of thousands of drunk teenagers that get them every day.
I say we drop the ignorance. Instead of categorizing and alienating people based on broad headings that our legal teams tell us we need, lets start educating ourselves and printing up liability forms that actually make sense. Yes, if your A1C is 13, you probably shouldn't get a tattoo. If you are lazy, irresponsible, and unhygienic, you probably shouldn't get one either.
How about we differentiate between type 1 and type 2 while we are at it (for those that don't know--and I freely admit, I was in this boat at one time in my life too--they are completely different diseases, they just have similar symptoms). I read an entire article yesterday about how diabetes can lead to fatty liver disease. I got all the way to the last paragraph before they mentioned that it was the insulin resistance factors that caused the liver damage--something that only happens in type 2 diabetics. (I'm all for renaming type 1. If I hear one more person say "but you're so thin" after I tell them I have diabetes, I will lose it. How about Autoimmune Induced Glucose Intolerance? AIGI for short.)
Education goes a long way. And having a little faith that if you are kind enough to accept my diabetic child into your daycare with no strings attached I won't sue you if something goes wrong, is also a step in the right direction.
Unfortunately, diabetics see this kind of thing everywhere. I believe there is really only two reasons for it: ignorance and liability. Diabetes is a scary, mysterious disease that causes people's feet to fall of without warning! They may fall into a coma at any moment! Ignorance. (Liability on the other hand is a much bigger issue. Sue thy neighbor has practically become an American pastime.)
Shortly after reading this article, I went to yoga class. Before instructing everyone to move into shoulder stand, the teacher warned that anyone with high or low blood pressure, or anyone with diabetes should move into candle stick instead. Why? Does the simple fact that I have the disease make sticking my feet in the air a death sentence? Am I going to fall into one of those mysterious, spontaneous comas from attempting a simple inversion? No of course not. In fact I with my stellar cholesterol levels, perfect blood pressure, resting heart rate of 57, and 5 doctor check-ups a year, am probably the last one in the class that is going to die from doing a shoulder stand (I tried this same argument on a health insurance agent, to no avail).
What the teacher should have said is, "Anyone with high or low blood sugar may not want to attempt the shoulder stand. Oh and by the way, you probably don't want to be at yoga class right now. Maybe you should get that taken care of."
The first time I went to get a massage after being diagnosed, I noticed some fine print on the questionnaire. Right below the box that asks you to identify which diseases and conditions you have, there was a small side-note that said something about not being able to work on anyone with diabetes unless they provide a doctor's note. Now to me, that seemed a little silly (what am I, in elementary school?). And diabetes is a pretty big header to categorize people under. Type 1, type 2? Newly diagnosed? There is a big difference between a ten year old with well controlled type 1 and an overweight eighty year old suffering from neuropathy.
I did what any respectable diabetic would do. I ripped off my medical alert bracelet and lied on the form.
Tattoo and piercing release forms have the same fine print. I can bet I took better care of my tattoos than the tens of thousands of drunk teenagers that get them every day.
I say we drop the ignorance. Instead of categorizing and alienating people based on broad headings that our legal teams tell us we need, lets start educating ourselves and printing up liability forms that actually make sense. Yes, if your A1C is 13, you probably shouldn't get a tattoo. If you are lazy, irresponsible, and unhygienic, you probably shouldn't get one either.
How about we differentiate between type 1 and type 2 while we are at it (for those that don't know--and I freely admit, I was in this boat at one time in my life too--they are completely different diseases, they just have similar symptoms). I read an entire article yesterday about how diabetes can lead to fatty liver disease. I got all the way to the last paragraph before they mentioned that it was the insulin resistance factors that caused the liver damage--something that only happens in type 2 diabetics. (I'm all for renaming type 1. If I hear one more person say "but you're so thin" after I tell them I have diabetes, I will lose it. How about Autoimmune Induced Glucose Intolerance? AIGI for short.)
Education goes a long way. And having a little faith that if you are kind enough to accept my diabetic child into your daycare with no strings attached I won't sue you if something goes wrong, is also a step in the right direction.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Gloom
It is gloomy. The rain has been trickling down from grey skies all morning. And it's Monday. I hate Mondays. Especially gloomy Mondays that start with a high. After going to bed with a very respectable 121, I woke up this morning with a very frustrating 165. The last few nights I have experienced seemingly unjustified high blood sugars after dinner. Last night, I finally caught on. I double my dinner dose. And it worked! Well... Apparently not. I am struggling to hang on to the inspiring words that my yoga teacher shared with us yesterday: Life is not a given right, it is a gift. So I look outside and force myself to say, "Oh good, rain. We can really use it. It's been such a dry spring. I will enjoy this rain (and this gloom)." And I look at my monitor and clench my teeth in a smile, "I will enjoy this opportunity to listen to my disease and understand what it is telling me" (even though I cannot possibly wrap my mind around what the hell is going on here). I say these things aloud, but I still slump my shoulders and stare out the window with a frown because the grey skies make me depressed, the random imperfect blood sugars make me angry, and because the new iBGStar smartphone glucose monitor is only for the iPhone (come on Android! Does Apple have to win at everything!?).
I can sit here and bitch all morning (and I am compelled to). Or I can get up, put on my rain jacket and go for a run. The rain will energize me. The run will tame the rising sugars. And the post workout rush will make this Monday (maybe) a little more tolerable. Again I say it, this time aloud:
"Life is not a given right. It is a gift. Live in every moment. Take nothing for granted."
(Not even gloomy Mondays. Someday those will be gone too.)
I can sit here and bitch all morning (and I am compelled to). Or I can get up, put on my rain jacket and go for a run. The rain will energize me. The run will tame the rising sugars. And the post workout rush will make this Monday (maybe) a little more tolerable. Again I say it, this time aloud:
"Life is not a given right. It is a gift. Live in every moment. Take nothing for granted."
(Not even gloomy Mondays. Someday those will be gone too.)
Saturday, May 5, 2012
After the Ride
I am slowly recovering from the grueling bike ride on Thursday. I am not nearly as sore as I thought I would be (actually my sit-bones are just as sore as I thought they would be). The new trail (the Cheyenne Rim trail at Soapstone Natural Area) proved to be a little harder than I had anticipated. It took us about two hours to get to the turn around point (and only one hour to get back to the parking lot--I do love down hill so much better). But the pay off was well worth it. After 7.6 miles of tedious elevation gain, the landscape opened up to a beautiful red dirt valley. We stopped and ate lunch on a rock outcropping and took in the magnificent scene. We were the only people for miles. There is something so healing about that kind of silence.
Before we started the bike ride, I drank a homemade protein shake (about 17g protein, 20g carb). That, along with a conservative amount of insulin at brunch, held me over pretty well. I checked my sugars around the 6 mile mark, after a painful hill climb left me feeling drained. 67 and likely dropping. I took four glucose tabs and hopped back on my bike. I could sense that the halfway point and subsequent lunch break were near. It turned out I was being a little too hopeful in that aspect. by the time we did stop for lunch, I knew I had some room to work as far as blood sugars were concerned. I ate freely with little regard to carb counting (just one of the many benefits of serious activity). The way back was mostly downhill and by the time we got back to the car my blood sugar was holding strong at 93.
We ended the day with a home cooked meal and some celebratory drinks on the patio. (Did I mention that my parents kick ass?)
Before we started the bike ride, I drank a homemade protein shake (about 17g protein, 20g carb). That, along with a conservative amount of insulin at brunch, held me over pretty well. I checked my sugars around the 6 mile mark, after a painful hill climb left me feeling drained. 67 and likely dropping. I took four glucose tabs and hopped back on my bike. I could sense that the halfway point and subsequent lunch break were near. It turned out I was being a little too hopeful in that aspect. by the time we did stop for lunch, I knew I had some room to work as far as blood sugars were concerned. I ate freely with little regard to carb counting (just one of the many benefits of serious activity). The way back was mostly downhill and by the time we got back to the car my blood sugar was holding strong at 93.
We ended the day with a home cooked meal and some celebratory drinks on the patio. (Did I mention that my parents kick ass?)
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Activity is the Best Thing
Down to 2u of long acting insulin! Things are definitely looking good. Thanks to a very fun integrated iPod adaptor my boyfriend got me, I have been pushing my morning runs farther and farther each day. I have my eyes set on three and a half miles for Friday. That is, if I can walk after my 15 mile mountain bike trek tomorrow. My parents are coming up for a belated birthday celebration and we have big plans: brunch at Snooze, bike ride, and homemade Moroccan shish kabobs for dinner. With any luck, I will be able to ditch the Lantus entirely for a few days and embrace a life that involves three needle pricks a day instead of four.
To all the T1Ds out there who were told they had to limit their activities because of this disease, it is just not true. I was lucky enough to be ignorant to that myth and to have an outpatient nurse with an eight year old diabetic son. She knew, just as I do, that diabetes does not have to keep you pinned down. Eat before you exercise, check your sugars frequently, and always pack glucose tabs and extra snacks. You can take on the world.
To all the T1Ds out there who were told they had to limit their activities because of this disease, it is just not true. I was lucky enough to be ignorant to that myth and to have an outpatient nurse with an eight year old diabetic son. She knew, just as I do, that diabetes does not have to keep you pinned down. Eat before you exercise, check your sugars frequently, and always pack glucose tabs and extra snacks. You can take on the world.
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