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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "Anxiety":

I hate today.

 

My annual eye exam is this afternoon and every time I have to have this done, it seems I get more freaked out about it. I have a “thing” about my eyes. Let me put it to you this way, the first time I got contact lenses it took me literally 1 hour to get one in! It's embarrassing to admit that but it is the truth.

 

The fear I have is two fold. The uncomfortable procedure itself and whatever the doctor will find.

 

I cannot stand those thick eye drops. It is like molasses. Thick sticky muck being dropped in my eyes. I hate it. And it stings. At least to me it stings and there is little worse then eyes that are stinging in my humble opinion.

 

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I entered a contest recently held by my favorite professional sports team – the New Jersey Devils. Named the "Devils Night Out Sweepstakes," in 200 words or less, I was to write an essay stating why I deserve a "Devils Night Out."

 

The grand prize was free coffee for a year, dinner for four at a restaurant inside the arena, four lower-level tickets to the last game of the regular season, a VIP tour of the arena, a New Jersey Devils gift pack and an item autographed by the team.

 

I didn't win.

 

Here was my essay.

 

 

 

 

1995.

 

She couldn't stop staring at her new diamond ring; how it sparkled brilliantly under the Brendan Byrne Arena lights. We cheered for our beloved Devils, the excitement of our engagement still warm.

 

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Been having weird dreams... Guess I'm a little anxious about the endo tomorrow... So in honor of odd dreams and anxiety:
Twas the night before my endo appointment, when all through the place Not a meter was stirring, had my pump at my waist My gym clothes were tucked in my backpack with care, And I hoped that my work would show on the scale.
And I was nestled all snug in my bed, While visions of low A1Cs danced in my head. And me in my 'kerchief, and Bob in his cap, Had just settled our brains for an early fall nap.
When in a weird dream there arose such a clatter, The doctor he told me everything was the matter. He said that my A1C had risen so fast, And my weight was through the roof, I was simply aghast.
The moon it showed down as I tossed to and fro The bad news continued from my dreamland endo. When, what to my sleeping brain did appear But a 400 plus cholesterol number, and my control-loss so clear. (READ MORE)

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I haven’t been very good about sharing our CGM experiences so far. Sorry about that. So busy lately. There’s always something going on. Today we celebrated Ben’s fifth birthday with a carnival-themed party in the back yard. I’m still picking whipped cream from my ears and eyeballs from the pie throw game. Seemed like a good idea on paper. Man, those kids launched those pies at me with a vengeance!

 

So, the CGM (continuous glucose monitor).

 

Started off really good. Got a little bad. Then good again. And bad at the moment. Not so much the accuracy of it. That’s been surprisingly on the money for the most part. Just some of the baggage and burdens of it affecting Charlie.

 

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When resources are scarce, it is human nature to try to prioritize and cut back until the situation improves. Usually, these are either short-term or seasonal shortages, giving us some idea of how long we will need to endure -- a sort of "countdown" calendar to work against. When we don't know how long the shortages will last, when necessities such as food, water, and medicine will return, we hunker down into what is called a "siege mentality". The problem with a siege mentality is that it can lead into a downward spiral, with the shortages getting more and more pronounced, until it seems impossible that there will be an outlet or that it will arrive in time... or until the besieged die.

 

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Anjelica Huston, we have a problem.

 

"I feel low," he says.

 

"Are you sure?" I ask.

 

He shrugs his shoulders, his grey baseball mitt planted under his armpit.

 

"I don’t know, sort of."

 

I interrogate him.

 

"Do you feel funny? Tingly? Silly" Sweaty? Hungry?"

 

"I don’t know. A little. Maybe."

 

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I had to pick Olivia up from school again today because her stomach was nauseous again. She's been on a course of Zantac for a couple of weeks now and it seemed to work for a while. This is the first time she's felt this bad. She told me last night that her stomach was a little sore, but not queasy.

So, I'm off to the store to get more Zantac (and pump batteries, which seem to have disappeared - I'm blaming my husband and all of his electronic gadgets) and I'm logging (I know!!!) all of her food. I haven't logged actual food in a while - just carbs. Thank goodness I have a good spreadsheet for all this. I'm just going to leave it open on the computer all day. Hopefully that will prompt me to get the stuff in there on a daily basis rather than slacking and then playing catch up. She's never going to remember what she ate yesterday and I certainly don't expect her to.
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Just as hyperglycemia is but the tip of the iceberg when discussing the physical ravages of diabetes, depression is but the most visible diagnosis of how diabetes affects our minds.

 

I'm not talking about the temporary states of anxiety or paranoia, lassitude or somnolescence, that accompany our glycemic highs and lows, but the long-term, "you should get psychological help for this" effects of living with chronic disease in general, and diabetes in particular.

 

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All day I was fine. Normal mood. Normal Tuesday working from home. I felt fine.

 

It must have started when the kids got home from school. Rowdy as usual, and I guess I thought I was handling it OK. But thinking back, it did get to be too much and I had to send the girls to play outside.

 

But I thought I was handling it OK. I did feel a little anxious some time this afternoon, but I worked hard at focusing on not being anxious and I seemed to be handling it fine.

 

I seemed to be fine.

 

I was looking up places where we'll go this summer for three-day weekends to escape the heat. I remember the anxiety then. It seemed a little overwhelming and I had to step away from the computer.

 

But I seemed to be handling it OK. I thought that removing myself from what I thought was the source of anxiety would be enough.

 

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