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We found 9 result(s) that match your search "Keeping On":

It has been increasingly difficult to get out of bed lately for my morning walk. And even though I feel fabulous after a walk and I know ahead of time how good a walk makes me feel, it’s still been easier to continue to hit snooze or to get back in bed or to blame my sugar level. And I feel guilty for a host of reasons.
 

I haven’t heard from my Drill Sergeant much lately. I haven’t heard that nagging voice screaming at me to get my butt out of bed already. And even on the days when I do walk I haven’t heard the don’t-give-up-now-you’re-almost-there speech. Not even a wimper. I think the Drill Sergeant likes staying in bed, too.

 

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If nothing else, diabetes has provided me with stories to tell.

 

Like the time before diagnosis when I peed my pants.  Or the time I told a classmate if they weren't careful, I'd put insulin in their milk and make them diabetic.  Or the time I socked a kid who called a diabetic friend of mine "sugar-freak."  Or the times I've made a donkey of myself during a low.  

 

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Many of us have been a-twitter about World Diabetes Day, bringing attention to the epidemic proportions of Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes and the Big Blue Test. Seattle had a bike ride as did Victoria, BC. Philadelphia had an event at the Temple University School of Podiatric Medicine. Those of us in the New York City area celebrated with a huge D-Meetup and pizza party. The indefatiguable Allison set things up in a Midtown office building. At its peak, over 20 Type 1s, Type 2s, and Type 3s gathered to enjoy each other's company and take part in the Big Blue Test.

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"This is the most sick I’ve ever felt," Charlie said last night, hugging the "puke bucket" so tightly you would have thought it was keeping him afloat.

 

He looked miserable, wanting so badly to just throw up and get the awful feeling out of his stomach. Get it over with. These are some of the most difficult times of being a parent of a child with diabetes.

 

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In today's environment of cheap-to-the-patient pills that can cure almost anything from a hangnail to cancer, it's sometimes difficult to make significant and often-difficult lifestyle changes on account of a disease or a medical condition. Rarely is this more evident than in the public appearance of Type 2 diabetes.

 

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It's my time...to appreciate the past.

 

Dear Mom,

 

I've probably never thanked you out loud for the years of care that you've put into my life. And I should. Every day of my life. Because you have been the rock, the support, and the lifeline that I've need in the past 16+ years of living with diabetes.

 

I've heard the way you tell my diagnosis story. I hear the fear in your voice, the emotion run through you. I know that those months were some of the hardest in your life. When you talk about watching me have seizures and bad night lows, I hear that same fear and emotion. I know having a diabetic child must be one of the most difficult things to encounter as a parent. I know it wasn't what you expected or wanted or needed in your only girl.

 

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Tuesday night, I switched my Lantus over to a once-per-day shot instead of the split doses I'd been using previously. I started with 22 units of Lantus at 8pm. I knew I'd see some highs, but I didn't want to risk an unexpected night low after making the first switch.

 

And I did see some elevation. I ran mostly in the 180-290 range all through Wednesday, which wasn't as high as I was expecting really. I made sure to consider food in the highs, along with the usual post-breakfast spike. And I was confident that a few more units of Lantus might do the trick (or at least get me closer).

 

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Fade in.

Close-up on a hand, shaking slightly as it lifts a metal cup. Pan as the camera moves to the subject's face, barely able to take a swallow of fluid without spilling it. After a half-coughed swallow, the hand half-slams the cup back on the workspace. The man shakes his head, unable to concentrate, pushes off from the workspace, and snaps at several other people as he walks briskly away.

 

 

From the second I saw the hand shake, I thought, "He's low. He's acting like he's low. Get the man some orange juice; he's about to pass out."

 

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As an engineer by training, I find quantitative analysis -- numbers -- an expression of control. Self control, exercise, body function, health and illness... So while I'm fortunate enough not to have to be "Bionic Betty" with a peripheral pancreas, I still refer regularly to six separate instruments, plus additional Web-based resources, to manage my food intake, exercise output, and biometric information.

 

Weight. Some folk say weighing once a week is enough, but I find that if I don't weigh in every morning, my weight can go off on very health-unfriendly curves. I log my weight both in The Daily Plate and in my personal Excel workbook.

 

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