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May 25th, 2012
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Blah, blah, blah, here she goes again, pissing and moaning about logging.

Back when the year was shiny and new, as opposed to snow-covered and grubby (and enough with the snow already, ok? I'm SICK of it. Sick.) I resolved to be more diligent about logging Olivia's blood sugars. And for a few weeks I was. And then I forgot for a couple of days. And then it was Thursday and I thought, well, I'll just start over on Monday. And I forgot again.

I've logged in fits and starts over the last 2 months, but mostly, I haven't logged at all. And now she has an endo appointment tomorrow and I'm not going to have that much information to give her and I'm pissed at myself.

I just don't know how to make myself log. I forget. And if I'm forgetting to log, how am I supposed to teach Olivia? I'm not setting a good example at all and they always tell you (who are they anyway?) that you should lead by example when it comes to your kids.
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Everyone needs to take a personal day every now and then. At least that's how I feel. Lately, It seems like I have been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I have been putting in some long days of landscaping work, I just returned from a weekend trip to Omaha, and my girlfriend is in the process of getting a job back in her home state. And needless to say, all of the chaos and daily schedule changes have my blood sugars going a little crazy. (READ MORE)


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Long day.
Long day after a long night after a long day after a long night. Tired. Very tired.
Not in mood tonight to negotiate with Charlie when he throws a minor tantrum because it's shower time.
Angry dad voice comes out. I hate my angry dad voice. I hate using it on any of my kids, but I'm especially regretful after the fact with Charlie.
Charlie whips his head back on to the couch and then lays face down on the floor. I've asked him five times now to come up with me for a shower.
"Charlie! Get. Upstairs. Now!"
He crawls upstairs slowly on hands and knees like a weak desert wanderer searching for water. "Can't," he moans. "I'm so tired."
I'm certain he'd be up the stairs like a leopard if said let's play a video game.
"Charlie! Now!"
The voice in my head tells me he can't be low, you just tested him. Don't fall for it. He's just being a 5 year old not getting his way. (READ MORE)


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There are some days when a person ought to just stay in bed. 

 

Under the covers.

 

Cuddled with the cat.

 

Warm and safe and happy and comfortable.

 

There are some days when staying in bed is the best possible option.  Of course, those days are often realized in hindsight.  When the proverbial ball is already rolling in the absolute wrong direction.

 

Today has been, without a doubt, one of those days.

 

I got up this morning feeling alright.  Fairly well-rested, actually, and not fighting - as I'm wont to do - the inevitable reality that another day has dawned and it can't be spent in the paradise of slumber.

 

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I feel like I'm in an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.

 

OK first let me say that I really don't like feeling like this. If I could ban SpongeBob from my house I would. When I'm surfing the channels for the kids (man is it hard to please a 9 year old, 6 year old and 3 year old at the same time!) I have to force myself to not scream "Over my dead body!" when they all scream/chant "SpongeBob! SpongeBob! SpongeBob!"

 

I get that we all need a little mindless entertainment at times (which is why I often choose solitaire over a game of hearts with the computer because solitaire takes fewer brain cells) but my God I just want to poke SpongeBob in the eye. And Patrick.

 

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"So you missed my big health news last week," I said to my boss this evening as we were working late.
"Oh, no, I know. K. told me," she said, "that you're going on the pump. That's great news. Are you hooked up?"
"Yes, I got all set today," I said lifting my shirt slightly to show off my pump. "But the bigger news is that we discovered that I'm actually type 1 and not type 2."
Enter blank stare.
With a type 1 brother in law, I really thought I was talking to an understanding audience, but I was (partly) wrong.
Over the last few days, I've encountered a lot of these misunderstandings that I didn't really expect. One day last week, I called my sister to let her in on the news of my new diagnosis and about the pump. It was really a process to explain to her that this was all no big deal. (READ MORE)


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When I inserted the first sensor on Saturday, I thought it might give me a little trouble. It'd been through a lot in the last months (traveling around in my "everyday" case and moving from fridge to backpack to suitcase multiple times). It looked old, it looked like it wouldn't work. But I gave it a shot anyway.

 

And my suspicions were confirmed. It gave me two error messages before showing me a steady level in the 50's when I was perfectly okay. Instead of messing with a crazy sensor and wondering about its accuracy for days, I changed it out. I had an entire new box of them anyway and I don't use them often enough to be upset on throwing one out.

 

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You are the night
You are the days
You are the hours until
You are the pain on his face
You are his pinching eyelids
You are his grinding teeth
You are the screaming
You are the 2 am light bulb
You are the creaky stairs
You are deception
You are doubt
You are the things that go wrong
You are runaway hands tucked under his pillow
You are the holes in his wet fingers like coral
You are panic
You are fury
You are desperation
You are paleness
You are the vacant collapse
You are the burning tremble
You are the shark in the fog
You are the dark hallway
You are the unknown
You are unanswerable questions
You are the odd imposter
You are jagged temper
You are dread
You are scar tissue and blood
You are alarm
You are guilt
You are darkening shades of purple (READ MORE)


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It weighs heavy on me, this damn disease.  Some days are especially long and challenging. I'm reminded of a song called "Four Seasons in One Day." In just one day, diabetes can throw so much at us.

 

Blistering hot highs. Blustery lows. Raging tempers like an April thunderstorm and even beautiful numbers as cool and still as autumn.

 

This was Sunday.

 

The day started off promising. Charlie woke up with a good blood sugar. He hit the ice at 8 am for hockey practice with a blood sugar of 203 - a number I'm comfortable with when he's out there on the other side of the glass. After hockey, Charlie tested himself while we drove to my soccer game.

 

"I'm 98."

 

"Nice!"

 

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Last week, I spent some time at work familiarizing myself with the School Advisory Toolkit. It's a guide for newly diagnosed or new to school parents that walks them through how diabetes plays into education. It also includes sections for the teachers and administrators to make sure all sides understand the issue.

 

As I reviewed the SAT (School Advisory Toolkit), I recalled my own education with diabetes. Since I was diagnosed in March when I was 4 years old, I'd made it a short way into pre-kindergarten, which also meant that almost all of my school career would be entwined with diabetes.

 

In pre-K, I had the most understanding and comforting teacher. She took extensive time to learn what needed to be done for me. Although I have no real recollection of her, I know that she was a strong foundation for both my diabetes and education. She was a creative teacher who loved her kids.

 

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Michelle Kowalski
Michelle KowalskiMichelle Kowalski, a writer, editor and photography hobbiest living in Phoenix, was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes in February 2005. In January 2008, as part of her quest to start on an insulin pump, Michelle learned that she actually has type 1 diabetes. (Read More)
Brenda Bell
Brenda BellBrenda was diagnosed with high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and Type 2 diabetes in July 2002. After a rocky start, her diabetes has been diet-controlled since January 2004 and she hopes to keep it that way for as long as possible. (Read More)
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