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May 25th, 2012
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I went to get the mail today and found a package from Minimed. It wasn't the normal size box for Olivia's pump supplies and we've already received our Care Link doo-hickey (technical term, that - doohickey. The whatsit that you download pump info from. I think. I haven't actually used it yet. I keep forgetting....)

 

Anyway, inside the box was a brand new One Touch Ultra that beams blood sugar readings directly to Olivia's pump. Yay! I was all happy. I thought it would be great, that Olivia wouldn't forget about putting her blood sugars in, since the meter would do it for her.

 

Oh, how wrong I was. I gave it to her, all eager to see her reaction, since when the BD meter went away, she was very upset. But no.

 

"It's not green!" she exclaimed. "And it's not tiny." And she sort of flung it aside, sighing in exasperation.

 

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When I tell my "real-life" friends stories about my friends from the Diabetes Online Community (DOC), I'm often told that my stories make these people sound real.
"Well," I say, "They are real. In many ways more real than some people I've met face to face."
I usually get the look then. The one that says: Nicole has been spending too much time online. Nicole's friends all live in the box.
That's the furthest thing from the truth. I mean - really - who can spend too much time online? And my friends don't live in the box, they just talk to me through it. Right?
I'm getting to the point. Patience. (READ MORE)


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This post by our very own Carey Potash - got me thinking about how I'd feel if we found a cure. I decided to practice how I might bid diabetes farewell - Dear John-style.
Dear Diabetes, (READ MORE)


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I touched the top of my forehead and felt the sudden wetness of perspiration as I walked down the stairs. My head felt light and loose as if it dangled from a marionette string. Strange. It wasn't hot in the house. I felt an overwhelming feeling of tingly ickiness throughout my whole body as I stood there sweating and vibrating and wanting to quickly get to the nearest chair.
I've tested Charlie's blood sugar thousands of times, but doing my own felt awkward as I searched for the right angle. After some difficulty, I managed to squeeze a drop of blood from my finger and scoop up enough for a reading. Sure enough, I was 66. (READ MORE)


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The past weekend I spent 3 days at a Christian Camp in the mountains working at a retreat called Via de Cristo or Cursillo. Some you may have heard of it before. It is one of many 3 day movements around the world used to rekindle the fire of ones faith. My wife and I attended Via de Cristo, which is a co-ed non denominational version of Cursillo, a few years back and try to serve on the team at least once a year for new people going through the experience. (READ MORE)


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Being a dad has lots of challenges. Heck, being a parent is the best but scariest job you can have! But having diabetes and being a parent has its own unique challenges.
I find that when my kids witness a low or any complication with my disease I end up feeling guilty. Why should they have to worry about their father at such a young age? They have enough to worry about. I hate it.
One evening my kids started asking lots of questions about diabetes and of course, I am always willing to talk to them about anything they are questioning. My son asked, "Are we going to get diabetes?" (READ MORE)


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Diabetes has had us back on our heels and off-balance since school started. Charlie has had very high blood sugars. In turn, we're doing a lot of guessing. Guessing is not a great strategy when dealing with a major disease. Such is life with diabetes.


It is during these times that diabetes likes to send a message. It likes to bring you down to size and remind you that you're not in control. Just as we were about to make changes to deal with the constant highs, the unexpected sound of panic lifts me from my chair.


"Carey! Juice box now!!! He's very low!!!"


I pop from my chair like a firefighter responding to an alarm and grab two juice boxes. I can hear Susanne's voice growing louder as I make my way upstairs.


"CHARLIE! CHARLIE! I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP!"


"CHARLIE!"

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Thursday, my college youth group is having a Fourth of July picnic. I'm half excited, but half wary of all things food related. The diabetic in me is curious, anxious, and completely nervous about what will be served, how it was prepared, and so on. The diabetic in me is wanting to be a total control freak...but unfortunately, this isn't a situation where I can be. This situation calls for a little gambling and adventure-taking.

 

Ever since I started venturing out on my own, I've struggled with food. I want healthy choices. I want choices that won't send my blood sugar through the roof. And mostly, I want choices that I will actually eat (as I'm a fairly picky eater). All those things combined leaves me feeling like I have to make the restaurant choice or at least give plenty of acceptable options...while trying to make everyone happy in what they're putting in their own mouths.

 

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A box within a box within a box within a box.

 

Sometimes, that's the best description of my, your, or anyone else's diabetes.

 

The big box is Diabetes itself.

 

The next box is the "Type" box. Usually only two of them fit into the large case, but some folk will cram in two or more smaller boxes ("Gestational", "LADA", "MODY", and others) as well.

 

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I pulled into the driveway and my 6-year-old Ben ran over to me excitedly with a wooden box in his hands.  "Dad!" he said. "Do you want to see my box of dreams?" He did stipulate that access to his box of dreams was limited to his best friends. Inside the box was a plastic electric fan in the shape of an ice cream cone, a small rubber bird, an art project (a crayon-colored circle outlined with gold pipe cleaners) and a squishy yellow ball. 

 

My box of dreams would have two tickets to the 1980 "Miracle on Ice" Olympic ice hockey game between the United States and the Soviet Union.

 

It would include a reserved table at the Kaiserkeller club in Hamburg to see the Beatles perform in 1960.

 

Also, the scientific knowhow to cure gastroparesis so that Susanne can once again eat food like a person and not a newborn penguin.

 

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Lindsey Guerin
Lindsey GuerinLindsey is a typical, yet unique, Texas girl who loves shopping, movies and reading. She loves to travel and take risks. She dreams of diabetes cures, never-ending cheesecake and her own airplane. The rest you can discover in her blog! (Read More)
Carey Potash
Carey PotashCarey is a full-time hater of diabetes. The benefits stink. His 7-year-old son, Charlie, has been giving he and his wife the finger since November of 2003. Carey's parenting humor has appeared in various websites and print magazines. He resides in the suburbs of Philadelphia with his wife and three children. (Read More)
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