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March 21st, 2010
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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "aggressive control":

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My average for the past two weeks is 127. I can't even believe it. I'm staring at my logbook and my pump's software reports with my mouth open. How did I get below 130?

 

I know the numbers that are leading to averages like 127 (unfortunately, I don't know the reason behind those numbers). For the past two weeks, I've experienced plenty of lows. I run consistently in the 60's and 70's for hours on end.

 

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I’ve really been beating myself up the last couple months about my blood sugar and the amount of insulin I’m taking. I keep seeing both creep up and keep thinking that I’m just not doing enough or being aggressive enough to manage my blood sugar.
 

Yes, I don’t have the healthiest of diets, but I really thought that with more aggressive bolusing and more testing that I should have been seeing better numbers. But I wasn’t. And I kept feeling worse and worse about what was going on with me.
 

I had an endo appointment earlier this week where K (the physician assistant who I’ve connected with much better than Dr. R) kept saying that overall my numbers are just too high. Well, duh, I kept thinking. And continued to blame myself.
 

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“Aaaaaaaaaargh!” I screamed. I practically slammed my meter down on my bedside table. The Mr., who was half asleep next to me, was startled.

 

“What?”

 

“85!” I said angrily as I stomped down to the kitchen. It was 10:30 p.m. and I was in bed and in no mood to deal with a blood sugar that was too low to go to sleep and a downward trend on Dexcom.

 

I ate a granola bar, though I didn’t want to. And drank a few sips of milk. And took inventory of dinner: steak, potatoes, green beans, birthday cake, milk.

 

I went back upstairs and watched Dex like a hawk continue to go down. I reached for the SweeTarts. And then I got cranky. I could feel it all over, but I showed it by saying “I hate Valentine’s Day” after watching a commercial for jewelry or chocolates or something equally Valentine’s Day. “It’s just so commercial.”

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I've swallowed my pride and decided to apply for disability services here at school. They can offer me a few resources that I do not have access to otherwise. Most importantly, they give me the ability to register early for class and to notify my professor's that there is a legitimate health issue that I deal with.

 

The past two semesters, I've considered doing it, but I've also thought it was too embarrassing. But finally, things have gotten to the point where I'm realizing that it's not embarrassing, it's reality. So I've taken the initial steps to go through with it.

 

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The fact that I have diabetes is not the first thing most people learn about me.  In reality, it's often one of the last things I reveal about myself.  An exception to this rule is disclosure in the workplace. 

 

Because I am hypoglycemic unaware, and because I don't think it's fair for a person to find out about my diabetes because I've either lost consciousness or behaved aggressively, I typically let the people I work with know what they might be up against.   It's never really "comfortable" to disclose - as I'm never sure how people might react - but I find that it's absolutely necessary.  

 

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I was going to write a post about glucose tabs today to represent the letter G. But I'm not going to deliver as promised. Because, another G has been on my mind of late and I wanted to write about it.
What, pray-tell, could deter me from the path of a post about chalky-lemony glucose tabs? Nothing terribly exciting - just the gym. (READ MORE)


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My averages are definitely down in the last three days. I'm having a lot more lows, but far fewer highs. And the highs I am having, I can pinpoint generally what caused them (which is a heck of a lot different than last week where I was bouncing around for no apparent reason).

 

Moving the evening Lantus dose up by a few hours has stopped those evening highs, which I'm extremely grateful for considering those highs are the same ones that start my day off. And beginning and ending my days in the 200's is not my idea of good diabetes management.

 

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I got the call at work. I can't remember the date, but I'm pretty sure it was the day after No. 1's fifth birthday.
I have a pretty casual relationship with the nurse practitioner I see. I'm sure that's why he felt comfortable giving me the news at work instead of calling me into his office to drop the diabetes diagnosis bomb on me. I had been seeing Harry for several years, mainly for a host of small things and because it was pretty easy to get in to see Harry on short notice. Need to see the doctor? Can you wait two days? Need to see Harry? Can you be here in 20 minutes? Not to take anything away from his skills or anything, but I've established that I'm not a patient person. (READ MORE)


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Before you read any further, I want you to know that this is not a terribly uplifting post. And I won't fault you if you decide to stop reading now.
One of the worst parts of having diabetes, for me, is how vulnerable it makes me feel. In the past, I've expressed my fears related to this disease on this blog and my personal blog. I am not a person that lets fear deter me. I push on, I make my way in spite of the fact that I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the possibility of disaster that life presents.
But, you know, life with diabetes presents a whole other set of disastrous possibilities. (READ MORE)


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My two little girls now have a stomach bug. I've been going nuts, washing everything in hot water, in an attempt to keep Olivia from catching it.

It's horrible when the little girls get sick. Boo, who is three, is ok about it - she thinks it's pretty funny when she pukes (strange, strange girl) but The Bug is miserable. She doesn't get it and she feels terrible. I don't much enjoy it, either. Cleaning up puke is enough to make me hurl, too.

Dealing with real people sickness on top of diabetes, though, really sends me around the bend. It's easy enough to clean up pukey babies but dealing with Olivia's diabetes when she's puking is a little more challenging.
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Carey Potash
Carey PotashCarey is a full-time hater of diabetes. The benefits stink. His 7-year-old son, Charlie, has been giving he and his wife the finger since November of 2003. Carey's parenting humor has appeared in various websites and print magazines. He resides in the suburbs of Philadelphia with his wife and three children. (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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