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

Friday's endo appointment was a solo affair. Susanne stayed home with my little one who had suddenly come down with a fever. I don't like going solo. I like having Susanne there with me for these visits. We're a good team. We help finish each other's sentences. Also, you never know if an endo or a CDE is going to get a little nutty with the accusatory tones, etc. so, it's nice to know someone's got your back.

 

And if a knife fight broke out, I'd want Susanne there so that I could hide behind her.

 

The ride into Philadelphia went as usual. I got really lost, got stuck in awful traffic and made it to our appointment about an hour late. It doesn't take much for me to get lost in Philadelphia. I still don't know the city very well. This time, a detour did me in. I gave Charlie my camera and he documented the car ride.

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Yesterday, I sat in on a diabetes education training class at one of the local children's hospitals. My mentor suggested participating in order to better understand what a CDE does on a daily basis. That way I would know exactly if I wanted to go forward with this as a career.

 

It was definitely a great experience. Not only did I get to see a close up view of a CDE's job, but I also met some new contacts and opened my eyes to the real world. I don't think CDE is what I want to do, but it's still a possibility.

 

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The theme for this week is "Manage Your Healthcare Team".  For me, and for many others with Type 2 diabetes, this is a laugh. Team? What team? I have a primary care physician who handles everything from soup to nuts, including my diabetes care. She'll refer me to specialists and labs as needed, but she doesn't have any direct correspondence with my ophthalmologist (for whose checkup I am long overdue), and I've never had a CDE or an endo.

 

 

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I got a call this morning saying that my appointment with the new endocrinologist next week had to be rescheduled. So I called into the appointments line of the clinic asking for her next available, only to be told that it wasn't until June 10th at the earliest. Three weeks away doesn't sound so bad...except that I can't have any appointments from June 1st to July 6th because of summer school.

 

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The street we normally trick-or-treat on was consumed with kids and families last night. It was really fun because I can't ever remember seeing so many people out at once. However, with that many people parading up the street, some of us got caught in clumps. And one of my pet peeves is people I don't know walking too closely to me. I can't stand feeling like someone is literally breathing down my neck.
With The Mr. and the kids walking several paces in front of me while I dealt with some horrendous foot cramps (man am I pushing the water today!), I took the opportunity to stop and let someone pass me by.
"Hey, are you Michelle?" the woman asked as I stepped aside.
I was shocked that, first of all, someone recognized me, and that she could see me in the dark.
"Yes," I said.
"I'm Cheryl L."
"Oh my gosh!" I literally screamed. "Hi! How are you?"
"I'm great!" I think she was laughing at me, at my enthusiasm for seeing her. (READ MORE)

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This morning I set about getting Lantus and figuring out the doctor situation from yesterday. So I followed my plan to call the new doctor's nurse first then the CDE I know at the clinic if that didn't work. I was prepared to raise a little "cane" if need be, but desperately hoped they would make it easy.

 

I called the new doctor's nurse wanting to speak to the nice one that I spoke to yesterday. Unfortunately, she wasn't in. So I ended up speaking to another nurse, who was quite rude. When she first began the phone call, she wouldn't let me speak to tell her about the issue which got the whole thing off to a rocky start.

 

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Dec. 5, 2005, was a frigid day in Missouri. I wrote in my journal that day that it did not get out of the teens all day. It was one of those days where the snot inside your nose freezes the second you walk outside.

 

The Mr. and I were driving to the hospital at 5 a.m. that day. A 45-minute drive to the closest bigger city where my OB, perinatologist and certified diabetes educator were located. Three years ago today I was being induced with No. 3 at 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant.
 

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I’m mad.

 

It’s not even lunch time on the day of my appointment and already I’m looking for a new endo.

 

I’m mad. But mostly I think I’m homesick for Dr. C and his practice. I’m not sure I can put my thoughts together coherently, so you’re being subjected to my morning in bullet points.

 

• I don’t remember how I settled on this doctor, but it seems to me that his office was the closest one for a doctor whose credentials didn’t come from the University of Guatemala or University of the Phillipines.

 

• In the waiting room I sat. And sat. I sat too long considering my appointment was at 8 a.m. Once I got in a room I sat. And sat. I sat too long considering I barely had time to think about picking up a magazine at Dr. C’s office much less actually read several articles.

 

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As a reporter I've interviewed a lot of people in a variety of situations. Part of that job is not being intimidated. You have to go into an interview knowing how to control the situation.

 

But calling the offices of potential endocrinologists and asking for an interview appointment was a completely different scenario. Especially since most places I called said "Oh, the doctor doesn't do that." So half of my questions went out the window because I wound up talking to a medical assistant.

 

Some example answers I got:

 

*If I call with a question, who will get back to me and when? Most likely a medical assistant usually within 48 hours, but sometimes up to 72 hours.

 

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The nurse slapped the small piece of paper down on the table.

 

I glanced at the 8.2 and then looked away, disinterested. I figured as much. Like I said, it’s been a high summer.

 

I spoke to the nutritionist first, then the CDE and then the doctor.

 

Charlie’s height is trending fine, but his weight had dipped in the last three to six months. Despite the A1c of 8.2, Charlie couldn’t have heard better news from the dietician.

 

"Let’s up his food. Make it more like 185 to 200 carbs per day."

 

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