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May 25th, 2012
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I'm not always looking for evidence of diabetes, but sometimes I find it grinning back at me from the most obscure places. A few weeks ago, I found a bit of diabetes in an unexpected place - an infusion set cover in the change compartment of my car. It looked oddly medicinal, peering out from the bright red casing, hidden alongside a random house key and assorted bits of change.

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His hands move over my waist to my hips.  He brushes by my insulin pump, which feels to me about fifty times its actual size.  I wonder, does he notice it there beneath my clothes, beneath his hand? 

 

My bloodsugar is 355 mg/dl.  I feel yucky.  I know I'm spilling ketones.  When he kisses me, do I taste like fruit, like wine, like the acetone that's eating away at me?  Does he see the awful dry feeling behind my eyes; is he thinking I look as horrible as I feel? 

 

He takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.  I trace his palm with my fingertips.  My arms above my head, he's tying my my hands - his skin so near mine again.  Why do these calluses feel so obvious, so hard and unfeminine? 

 

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At the beginning of the month, I wrote about online dating. I couldn't decide how to approach my health conditions. Was I supposed to hold them back or just put everything out there from the beginning?

 

I decided to take a medium sized approach. The few that have progressed to getting my actual email address, I've told about my diabetes. It was easier to "admit" about my diabetes than hide it. After all, my blog, Diabetic Echoes, and so many other things in my life are because of that one diagnosis.

 

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Ring around a rosy, a pocket full of posies...

 

By the time we reach adulthood, most of us know that the seemingly-nonsensical nursery rhymes of youth were sharp political snipes and sarcastic observations at the time of their composition. We know, for example, that the "ring" or "rosy" was the distinct buboe of bubonic plague, that it was believed that carrying around fresh flowers would help ward off the Plague, that the belongings of a Plague victim would be burned to try to limit the spread of the disease, and that all too many people had succumbed -- and would succumb -- to its horrors.

 

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Have diabetes? Get married.

 

 

This headline out of Mumbai caught my eye. I've been urging Charlie to get married for years.

 

 

The article is about an online matchmaking service in India called diabeticmatrimony.com.

 

 

Looking for your diabetic soul mate? Looking for that certain special diabetic someone? Want to trade in your spouse for one who gets it? Someone who really understands what it's like to have diabetes? Diabeticmatrimony.com might be for you.

 

 

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Not many people know that I've been seeing a therapist off and on since my sophomore year of college. A few of my close friends do, but I've never really expanded on why I see one or what goes on. It's something that I'm not really opposed to discuss, it just usually doesn't receive feedback the way that I want it to. So I keep it to myself unless it comes up.

 

Back in 2008, I started seeing a counselor to help me through some family issues that I was having. My health was the furthest topic from my mind. But when I look back, a major portion of those two things were combined. I've stopped therapy twice. Once because I didn't like the therapist and the second time because I just wasn't feeling the right kind of energy.

 

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I've seen a few dark days in the past seven months since I made the move four hours from my home of twenty-one years. Days that I came home crying because I was lonely, home-sick, and broken. Days that I'd give anything to have a few good friends to call and have a meal with.

 

But I have also seen a lot of very good days in these last months. Times where I cried from joy. Days that left me so whole and so at peace that I couldn't express it in words. Moments that I caught myself smiling or laughing for no apparent reason.

 

I am especially grateful for those times right now as I begin another transition into what I hope is the ultimate career move just at the start of my career days. School still looms in the back of my mind and I am very impatient for May to roll around and this semester to be over. But mostly, I just want to count my blessings.

 

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CGM Update

 I’m taking a break from the CGM.  I wore it consistently for three full weeks and gathered a ton of data to share with my doc when I see him.  But I really did need a few days off.  Wouldn’t it figure that my second day in, I’d have a very scary and inexplicable bloodsugar of 23 mg/dl, followed by a rebound high of 400 mg/dl the following morning? 

 

I’m going to go back at it starting tomorrow for another two weeks.  I’ll be seeing the doctor the following week, and I want to have at least a month worth of data look over with him.

 

Some notes about the system:

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So, I recently had pin up photos taken - again.  It had been almost two year since my last time in front of the camera - and I'm down another 20 pounds or so and feeling more confident than ever.  One of the photos is above - not bad, I think.  

 

On the day of the shoot, I wanted to be pump free.  Since I don't use photographers who photoshop the heck out of people, and my last photos had a clear view of my insulin pump site on my thigh, I wanted these to be site free.  I started the MDI routine on the Friday night before and I've been pump free since.  I guess I'm taking a rather unintended pump vacation.   I thought I'd start right back up on my pump the Monday after my Sunday shoot, but that just hasn't happened and it's now been a week and a half.  

 

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The phonetic syllables /mey dey/ are rife with meaning.

 

As a child, I envisioned "May Day" much in the manner in which Renaissance Faire players open and close the faire day: with costumed dancers weaving around a flower-and-ribbon-festooned pole, creating intricate patterns in both ribbon and step as they pass over and under each other, turning around and around and around. At some point along that axis, the vision of morris dancing entered the picture, as well as hunting, flower gathering, and so on. In short, May Day had entered the common vernacular as a more meaningful celebration of spring than the vernal equinox itself. (Then again, how many buds, leaves, blooms, and blossoms do we see around St. Patrick's Day?)

 

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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)
Nicole Purcell
Nicole PurcellNicole Purcell lists having type 1 diabetes last when she's asked to provide information about herself - because that's where it belongs.

(Read More)
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