When to tell?

I have accepted a new job. It's in a new city (half way across the country!!). It's with new people. New people who don't know that I have diabetes.

It was during my four-year tenure at my current job that I was diagnosed. I had no problem telling just about everyone in my very small office about diabetes. I already knew them and their personalities.

It's different now. I have a problem with going in to the boss on my first day and saying, "Hey, guess what..." I also have a problem with waiting three months until my benefits kick in, or even longer when someone sees me checking my sugar (or doesn't know what to do if I pass out) to say, "Oh, yeah, maybe I should have told you sooner."

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"So will your clothes hide your pump," Mom asked.

 
"I think so," I said. "I usually wear it on my waist band, but for this I'm probably going to put it in my pocket."

 
"Good, and if they see a bulge they'll likely think it's a cell phone," she said.

 
Truth is, I had actually considered disconnecting. But with the nerves I know I'll have, I don't want to risk the high or the low that will come with that stress. Even as proactive and look-at-me-and-my-pump that I can be, there's definitely a time and a place for it. And even though we shouldn't be judged on looks or accessories, I know that we are. I don't always want diabetes to be a topic of conversation, I don't want to be judged or be pitied because of diabetes. And I don't want to earn--or not earn--something based on this stinking disease. (READ MORE)

I hit "ESC" on Toohey to double check when my last bolus was. Yep, right on time. I suspect I'll be slightly high since I changed my site this morning and had a fast-food breakfast. But when I see 304 I'm shocked. I squeezed out another glob of blood and checked again. This time 302. Son of a f*%#ing b*&%h!

I had taken 9.5 units to correct for a hideous fasting (which is why I changed my site a day early; I'd been running high since I put that site in on Sunday morning) and for the excessive amount of carbs I was eating for breakfast. I had even logged on to the restaurant's web site for nutrition information before bolusing.

I'm so livid now that I can't finish doing what I was doing. I can't think. What the hell is wrong? Two things came to mind:  (READ MORE)

Perhaps one of the absolute worst parts of having diabetes is putting up with the expectations of others. When someone hears "diabetes" they expect to see you eating "right" all the time, avoiding sweets all the time, and worshipping your body all the time.

We all know that just doesn't happen. We are human. Everyone needs a break from the chains that bind us.

Over the last week or so, I have found myself defending a person I never in my adult life thought I would defend. My incredible half-sister told me recently that her mother has been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. With a sister and a mother with diabetes, she is, naturally, completely freaked out that she's next. Not to mention scared for our health and our future.

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I know I said I enjoy educating folks about diabetes, but I think I might keep my stinking mouth shut from now on.

The scene was a birthday party. I skipped my Symlin for the dinner portion because I didn't want to sneak away to inject. Looking at my plate of hamburger, baked beans and potato salad, I took my pump off my belt, SWAG bolused and went about the rest of my meal. No one seemed to notice my pump; if they did, they didn't say anything.

After presents it was, naturally, cake time. Ice cream cake to be exact. The Mr. and our friend A. cut while I helped distribute. When we got around to asking G. how big of a slice he wanted, his wife answered, "Just a little one. He's diabetic, that's why." Apparently, her comments got lost in the noise, because she repeated herself.

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Yesterday my daughter Gillian decided to wear this shirt to school.

When we did the ADA walk last November, I made shirts with different sayings on them and Gillian’s says, “My Dad is #1” but right under the number sign there is the word “type” in very small letters.

When I got home and saw that she had been wearing it all day I asked her, “What made you want to wear that today?”


“I dunno, I just wanted to. A lot of kids asked about it and I told them all about diabetes.” She was so proud.

“Well what did you say?” (READ MORE)