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

I must admit that when I went to bed Monday night I was a little nervous, a little anxious, a little excited about my endo appointment Tuesday morning. In fact, when my fasting was well above 200 on Tuesday I wondered if my nerves had anything to do with it. 

 

Tuesday's appointment was a follow up for labwork and an ultrasound on my thyroid that I had about 10 days ago. I was pretty sure the lab work (much of which was antibody tests to determine if I am truly type 1 or type 2) would show that I am type 1, but there was still a little part of me that doubted I was right.

 

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When I filled out the "get-to-know-you" paperwork for the next new doctor's office I was going to try, I was a little skeptical. Among the questions were things like: "Do you strive for optimal health on a daily basis?" That's kind of a loaded question becuase, really, who doesn't want to be healthy? But we all have *those* days.

 

Anyway. I looked passed it. I was still a little skeptical, though. Especially when I walked into the office. Granted, I was in one of the swankier parts of town, but there was a waterfall in the waiting room. And the girls at the front desk all had nails as long as their fingers and shirts that said: Got Hormones? or something like that.

 

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I’m not afraid of needles, but I must admit that I’m a little fearful of the bloodwork I’m scheduled to have in a few weeks.
 

Since I finally found an endo practice that I enjoy (yes, I know I still haven’t blogged about it yet!), they naturally want their own bloodwork. Which is great. And fine with me. It’s just the type of bloodwork that’s being done that’s leaving me a little uneasy.
 

I know it shouldn’t. And, really, I’m not uneasy I’m just kind of … I don’t know… just nervous? anxious? curious?
 

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I've always loved my hair. I used to say it was one of my best features. Once I understood and appreciated my curls, I learned how to take care of them. Throughout college and before having kids, I had long (mid-back length), curly hair.

 

I started cutting my hair shorter around the time No. 1 was born. I would go back and forth between wanting it short and wanting it long. The Mr. has always liked my hair long, and I think for the most part I prefer it that way.

 

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I keep saying that my new diagnosis doesn't change anything, but it does. It just does. I can't put my finger on it, and many of the things that are going through my mind as being "worse" than having type 2 are likely just unfounded fears. (READ MORE)

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Sometimes diabetes really does come in handy in school. The knowledge I have obtained throughout more than fifteen years of this disease leads me to information overload. All this information gives me insight into the psychology of chronic illness, the details of diabetes, an overview of complications, and the added bonuses of nutrition, exercise, and all that jazz.

 

The two health classes that I have taken are prime examples of this information overload. When we reached the chapters covering diabetes, I didn't even have to study to pass that part of the exams. I already know the warning signs of type 1 and type 2, the treatments, and the list of complications. It's easy and saves me some time that I can devote to other diseases.

 

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I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five years is a long time to live with something. It is an especially long time to live with something that requires tight control. Twenty-five years is enough time to have seen lots of bad days, lots of good days, and lots and lots of in betweens. And it is enough time for me to have had the good fortune of seeing vast improvements in access to information and treatment, developments and improvements in technology and even some improvements in (GASP!) what health insurers are willing to cover. (READ MORE)

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Since getting my hands on a review copy of Jenny Ruhl's new book, "Blood Sugar 101: What they don't tell you about diabetes" (Technion Books), I haven't been able to put it down.
Finally, an intellegent book about type 2 diabetes that tells it like it is and offers practical advice without talking down to me or engaging in quackery. Reading it, I feel like I did when met best friend Sue in middle school or when first found Diabetic Mommy. There's someone else who gets it! (READ MORE)

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Today (March 24th) is American Diabetes Alert Day.  This is the 21st year for this event, according to the American Diabetes Association (ADA), though I don't recall prior years.   They did get a mention in Dear Abby, which I'm sure is the ultimate PR notice for this type of event.

 

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Restless all night.

 

Keeping waking and look at the clock.

 

Saturday morning.

 

4:56 a.m. I need to go potty.

 

Sleep stupor wants me hold it several hours.

 

Don't want to be awake for the day at 5 a.m.

 

No, need to go now.

 

Reach for Toohey.

 

Hmmm, arm felt freakishly heavy and asleep.

 

I'm low.

 

No, can't be. Don't get overnight lows.

 

Don't feel lows until I stand.

 

Walk through fog and darkness to the bathroom.

 

Hit shoulder on door frame.

 

Sitting, I wake enough to convince myself to test.

 

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