Acupuncture

I went to a health and benefits fair at work recently and talked to an acupuncturist. Our conversation went a little like this:

Him: I do have some patients with diabetes and I can tell you, we’ve seen some improvement from a combination of herbal therapy and acupuncture.

Me: Type 1?

Him: Yes, type 1.

Me: Type 1?

Him: Type 1.

Me: TYPE 1?

Him: YES, TYPE 1!

To his credit, he did have a clear knowledge of the different types of diabetes and he spoke of beta cells, theorizing that maybe they weren’t dead but rather asleep.

Imagine proposing acupuncture to Charlie.

  (READ MORE)

He stood in the doorway as I put on my shoes and lifted my jacket over my shoulders. He was wearing an "I Love NY" t-shirt and red shorts with his insulin pump clipped just off-center - tubing dangling haphazardly and looping like a roller coaster.

"In school we made these bowls out of clay and we took leaves and we pressed them down into the bowl …"

He spoke.

  (READ MORE)

As a parent of a child with diabetes, it’s not so easy to set goals. Test his blood sugar more often? Don’t think so. His little fingers look like they’ve been dipped in bee hives. Doctors have been urging us to cut down on testing for years.

Get more exercise? Charlie never stops running. He’s like a greyhound on amphetamine.

Get less exercise? Doubtful. See above.

  (READ MORE)

No matter how commonplace diabetes has become, I still react the same way when I see a person with diabetes in the wild. I still feel a special connection despite the fact that I don’t physically share the disease. I get excited, like I’ve just spotted a rare plant species or a member of a secret underground society - whose cover is only blown with the slightest hint of pump-tubing. I feel like there should be a unique handshake or some sort of enigmatic hand gesture.

I walked by an all-glass conference room at work the other day and saw two guys sitting at a long spruce-colored table and glancing up at the large flat-panel monitor on the wall. As I walked by, I saw one guy begin to unzip a small black pouch.

"Hmm," I thought. "I think I just saw a diabetic."

  (READ MORE)

After a full week, my kids have finally emerged from their swine caves and have re-entered society, going back to school today.

My germaphobic wife’s biggest fear in the world (aside from a potential delay in the production of the latest Twilight series movie – New Moon) was getting swine flu. She made this startling comment while shivering on the couch last week.

"I better have the swine flu."

To think that this was just a precursor to something worse was unimaginable.

  (READ MORE)

"If he has trouble breathing, bring him in immediately," the nurse practitioner said earlier today. Or was it yesterday? I’m so tired. I’m typing in the dark, watching Charlie sleep. Listening to his breathing. It’s 3:56 am.

I’m fully dressed in middle of the night emergency attire. Yankees baseball cap to cover bed head and big bags under my eyes. Wrinkled first-I-could-find shirt probably on backwards. I’m writing to stay awake. 30 minutes ago I carried Charlie’s burning body downstairs and got ready to take him to the ER. He was glassy-eyed with a very high fever and coughed a horribly painful cough when he tried to speak. We looked at each other nervously.

We were doing our rounds, Susanne and I, shooting grape-flavored Motrin into the mouths of our two other kids.

Three kids with the swine flu.

  (READ MORE)