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

Just the other day I was speaking with a group of co-workers about different life changing events in the life of someone with diabetes. As we sat there and talked about it I began to reflect on my own. I thought about the different times in my life such as diagnosis time, school, relationships, complications, and work. All things that every person living with diabetes can relate to, or will eventually deal with.

Where were you when you were diagnosed? What were you doing that day or at that particular time in your life? Were you at work? Were you at school? Did you go into a coma or diabetic ketoacidosis? Was your vision so blurry, that like me, you realized you couldn't see the picture on the t.v.?
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Charlie's classmates grilled me and they grilled me good. After reading the book about diabetes, I was besieged with questions. I was amazed. Adults don't ask such good questions.

A lot of the questions were about the pump:

What happens if you lose the pump? What are all those buttons for? What do you do with the pump when you go to the beach? How long can he stay off the pump?

Charlie stood up beside me and demonstrated the pump like a flight attendant.

Batteries for the pump became the hottest topic of the day:

How do you know if the batteries are low? What do you do if he needs new batteries? How do you change the batteries? Where do you get batteries?

"Dudes, they're just triple As. You can get those just about anywhere."

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Considering the many battles that I fight with diabetes on any given day, I'm always pleased when things work out. I love success, in any shape or form. But especially in my diabetes world.

 

So Saturday night while I was visiting my dad, aunt and uncle, we decided to get Chinese food from a local restaurant (the best Chinese in all of Texas, I promise). I was definitely excited, but also silently stressing about how many carbs might be in my meal. Restaurant food is always hard to judge, but especially when it's something like Chinese at a small town joint that doesn't have carb counts available.

 

As I ordered my meal, I began to mentally guess the carbs. I'd splurged with my favorite: Sweet and Sour Chicken. It came with an eggroll and steamed rice. I was starting out my meal at 140, so whatever the carb count I'd need to add an extra unit to buffer the out of range blood sugar.

 

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I was reading through the dLife Viewpoints section today and saw a post that really hit home.

 

It's called "Bested by a Can of Tomato Soup" by Scott Johnson and I think it should be required reading for type 3's and other people without diabetes.

 

Counting carbs can sometimes be a difficult and maddening situation.

 

And we do it for virtually every meal every day. I mean, we are supposed to.

 

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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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After a month of contemplation, phone calls, and hassle, I've finally made an appointment with a new doctor. If you haven't followed along, my old endo wasn't being as cooperative or helpful as I wanted him to be. So I decided to pursue a new endo that might walk me through the next few years of my life as I prepare for the "real world," babies, and possibly even marriage. I called several doctors recommended by my pediatric endo, only to find out that my insurance either will not let me see them or I'd have to go about a massive ordeal just to get an appointment.

 

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There are times that I forget that I'm only 21 years old. Times where I miss the point that I'm young, I'm supposed to be enjoying this life that I'm living, and the basic premise that there's only one life to live (soap operas and all). It's the small moment in my head when I see a girl my age truly living; it's when my friends make broader decisions than I do; it's the monotony of trying to stay in control for all of time.

 

All these moments start at the root of one thing. Diabetes. Being diagnosed with a chronic, life-threatening illness at four years old doesn't do much to preserve childhood. Receiving strict rules and special accommodations all throughout those pivotal years doesn't make for the ability to live freely.

 

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I've always been "advanced" for my age. I skipped a grade in middle school. I never found interest in keeping up with the crowds in high school. In college, I never got into the party scene. I was always focused on my work and the next steps.

 

This portion of my personality that looks ahead, plans for the future, and doesn't always live in the "now" has saved me a lot of trouble over the years. For instance, when I couldn't find a job after college, the planner in me had saved enough money to live on and not stress about where my next meal would come from. But there have also been moments where the planner has caused me grief.

 

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For me, the desire to live to 100 is all about quality of life. Frankly, living to any age is about quality of life.
I don't know that I considered my mortality much until I was diagnosed with diabetes. I was 30 when I was diagnosed. Which means that at the traditional retirement age, I will have lived with diabetes for 35 years. That's a pretty long time. Live 20 years past retirement, and diabetes will have been part of my life for more than half a century.
One of the toughest parts of living with diabetes for me are the intangibles--I feel fine now, but that doesn't mean that my internal organs or my eyes aren't feeling the strain of high blood sugars and extended periods of time living with a chronic disease. (READ MORE)

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Red and green, the colors of Yule: the poinsettia and the evergreen, the holly berry and the ivy, the winter coats and cycling helmets...

 

Winter coats and cycling helmets????

 

In early on the 11th for my shift, I walked over to the supermarket at the other end of the strip mall to pick up a few things. On the checkout line next to me, I noticed a woman shorter and older than me, wearing a bright red cycling helmet.

 

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only person who cycles to my errands," I said.

 

"It's new," she said, referring to her helmet. "It's red, so I hope they can see me." 

 

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