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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "am I to blame":

I am sitting at the kitchen table, trying to force down some juice.  Again.  It's a little dark outside, and the lights are out.  All shadow, my world right now.  My vision is finally getting a bit sharper, no more of the squiggliness that had accompanied this low bloodsugar.  The world is starting to make a little sense again, as the cold juice makes its way into my system.

 

I am alone, and my thoughts wander.  Whose fault was this one? 

 

Mine?  Did I over-bolus at dinner?  Not enough of a basal adjustment earlier today? 

 

Diabetes?  Is it just doing what it does?

 

Some unseen higher power?  If so, I can't see how that higher power expects me to function properly in the world when it keeps throwing these disastrous diabetes curve balls.  For reals, dude, stop it already.  

 

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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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Inexplicable bloodsugars in the 300s. 

 

Waking up way late because my bloodsugar is in the twenties and everyone else in the house went to work.

 

How much of a pain it is to have a glass of wine with diabetes on board.

 

Worrying about complications.  

 

Little floaters in my eyes that make me think I'm going to be blind tomorrow.

 

How long it takes for a cut to heal.  Even if I am in excellent control.

 

Not being able to eat without counting.

 

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If you weren't aware, Oprah did an entire episode today on diabetes. The silent killer, the demise of America. People are dropping like flies!!! Haven't you heard?

 

Okay, maybe I should give Ms. Oprah a little credit for putting this out there. It IS an epidemic. But she owes me a correction. Type 2 is an epidemic! Yes, more and more type 1s are popping up. For goodness sake, I know so many people who were diagnosed in the last 5 years...it's kind of insane. But type 1 is not the focus of Oprah's show.

 

Although she didn't exactly point that out. The show opens with diabetes being this silent killer, the demise of the population. She actually says that people are dropping like flies. Yep. Like flies. Dr. Oz helps her out with some tricky animation that shows insulin rejecting sugar and the pancreas secreting yellow goo and all sorts of lovely images.

 

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I’ve had a really hard time with my writing/not writing lately. In December I blogged only once, and so far this month I’ve blogged twice.

 

This is kind of weird for me because I’m so used to writing so often. It hurts, actually, that I haven’t been doing more of it. It’s not for lack of trying, though. I’ve written countless Post-It notes to myself with blog topics and have every intention of writing when I get home and then I don’t.

 

And it’s not like I’m forgetting to do it, I just don’t do it. Or I decide that I’d rather do something else. I think about the Post-It note stuck to my calendar and about all the things I would say in the blog and how wonderfully eloquent I would be. And then I just don’t do it.

 

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I've always been used to humidity. I may not appreciate what it does to my curly, frizz-prone hair, but I'm used to it. Sixty to seventy percent humidity was fairly common growing up. I just never realized how much my skin appreciated the high humidity of my area.

 

My mom always said to like it since people in high humidity areas wrinkle less. I didn't make the connection until I moved and started experiencing the irritation of dry skin. Moving, just four hours away, sent me into a completely different climate where the air is typically dry and a lot colder than what I'm used to (except in summers when it's so much hotter than what I'm used to but without that humidity it's actually tolerable at 115 degrees).

 

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"And their Egyptian taskmasters made their lives bitter with hard work..."

 

Upon our iniital diagnoses of diabetes, many of us turn bitter at the world. We are overwhelmed with the amount of work that goes into testing, logging, carb-counting, and adjusting our insulin or other diabetes medications. We may feel bitter about having to restrict or completely forswear our favorite foods, or bitter at the way our society may blame us for our diabetes (this is particularly true for people with type 1 diabetes, which has no known associated lifestyle factors).

 

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A few blogs ago, I wrote about feeling like a bad dad when high blood sugar forced me to deny Charlie the ice cream I had promised.

 

I wanted to address the following question from a reader.

My question to you is (and you'll have to forgive me since I'm fairly new at this) couldn't you just have given your son an option of getting an injection if he wanted ice cream? We have a supplemental dose for such instances.

 

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Thirty-three years ago this semester, the frequent repetition of those words (or others to that effect) by high school classmates led me to take an extra semester of English in the spring term of my senior year. Anyone stepping onto my school bus and smelling the pungent odor of marijuana burning would have easily understood the reasons behind their lack of preparedness to study.

 

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