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May 25th, 2012
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Sometimes I feel like the Grocery gods have it in for me. I go to the store, armed with a list and a meal planned out in my head, only to find they're out of key ingredients. Like the time I had my pregnant heart set on faux-tatoes only to discover they're out of cauliflower. Or when I had to have a pizza and they were out of whole wheat Boboli crusts. And it seems like every other trip they are entirely sold out of my brand of diet root beer.
So it should come as no shock that the day I decide to make a stockpile of black bean soup the store is completely out of black beans. They had every other bean imaginable: kidneys, pintos, canelli, garbanzo, small pink and navy. But no black beans. (READ MORE)


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I have been on a low-carb kick that has food centered in the forefront of my mind. I had a certain misrepresenting perception of low-carb or carb-free eating. It taunted me about the extra hassle and drawn-out time needed to plan accordingly. If most of the country is serving carb-full food, it made sense in my head that eating alternatively would be more troublesome. Why hand pick vegetables from the produce section when they would automatically put on top of my salad and tacos from the Mexican restaurant? It turns out though, consciously eating carb-free makes life much simpler from this diabetic's perspective.

 

(READ MORE)


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Come on, everyone, sing it with me. I don't care if you're at work. Your co-workers will think you're insane. Maybe they'll send you home early.
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Oh, come on! That was weak! I can barely hear you. I know you're singing it in your head. This time out loud and with a little hip hop flava. So what if your boss is one cubicle away from you. It's Friday. I'm sure he or she likes a little ,
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Extra points to anyone who added a little beatbox into the mix. Guilty (raising hand modestly). Extra, extra points for anyone who pulled out a trumpet from under your desk and went all Dizzy Gillespie on it in between verses. Guilty again. (READ MORE)


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“What about honey?”


We came back to "Honey" 4 times in this exchange. I was going nuts.


Here is the deal, I am working at a church retreat in a few weeks and I was approached by the person in charge of food for the weekend regarding food choices. Apparently there are going to be some other people with diabetes attending the weekend and they thought they would get my suggestions.

(READ MORE)


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You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,

 

Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen.

 

But do you recall, the most pancreatically-challenged reindeer of all?

 

Rudolph the diabetic ('betic)

 

Had some very nasty lows (like a 30)

 

And if you ever asked him (asked him)

 

He would even say it blows (like a mofo)

 

 

All of the other reindeer (reindeer)

 

Used to laugh and call him names (like Sugar Boy)

 

They said he was contagious

 

They didn't want to be the same (the same)

 

 

Then one foggy Christmas Eve

 

Santa came to say (ho ho ho)

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Maybe I was expecting some sort of Christmas miracle or something but yesterday I was completely out of control.
We had our Christmas Breakfast at my unofficially adopted sister Candee's house. She was up early brewing coffee, scrambling eggs, frying bacon and sausage, and slicing up coffee cake and other breakfasty pastries so we could all dig in when we got there. (READ MORE)


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As some of you may have read in my biography, I am very active. I really enjoy exercising. Really. I actually do enjoy it. And I am not talking about just getting on a treadmill everyday. Honestly, I haven't even been on a treadmill in months. I just love moving around. I have found it is great for my body and for my diabetes. I do so many things that I don't have enough room on this page to tell you about all of them. To name a few though, I particularly enjoy weight-lifting, martial arts and doing just about anything involved with the outdoors. (READ MORE)


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"The 'Diabetes Police' are everywhere, telling us what we may or may not eat or do, on pain of losing a leg, going blind, or -- G-d forbid -- dying like their father's great-aunt by marriage did thirty years ago."

 

  • --"They" tell us we may not eat breads and cakes
  • --"They" tell us we may not eat fruits or sweets
  • --"They" tell us we may not eat that nice, juicy bacon cheeseburger -- especially if it's accompanied by a plate of crispy French fries and a frosty tankard of microbrew ale
  • --"They" tell us we may not drink anything other than tap water, or black coffee sweetened with Splenda
  • --"They" tell us we must eat tons of cinnamon, bitter melon extract, and a myriad of other "cures du jour" that cure diabetes only in Halle Berry's pipe dreams

 

(READ MORE)


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After a bit of small talk, I asked our nurse practitioner if there has been any chatter around the office about the artificial pancreas.

 

"No," she said, nodding her head.

 

"Nothing about the big news from the FDA?" I asked.

 

She nodded her head again. "Nope."

 

I'm not sure what exactly I was expecting. Did I think she would enthusiastically say, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"  and then produce a blank sign-up sheet and a sparkly ballpoint pen?

 

"As a matter of fact, yes, we've all been extremely excited about it and guess what, Charlie? You are first on the list for an artificial pancreas!"

 

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Charlie doesn't often express his feelings about living with diabetes. Though he does let us know quite often that it's not fair that his brother and sister get to eat certain treats at certain times that he cannot.

 

"You have diabetes," we tell him bluntly, as if he didn't already know. "You're absolutely right, Charlie. Diabetes is not fair."

 

I Think They Forgot the Ketchup is not Charlie's real memoirs. Instead it is his would-be or could-be memoirs.  If Charlie did write memoirs, you could be sure it wouldn't be based on the heavy topic of living with type 1 diabetes. That's no fun for a 10 year old. Charlie would much rather compose disgusting poems about poop. 

 

Chapter 1 - I Think They Forgot the Ketchup

 

(READ MORE)


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Michelle Kowalski
Michelle KowalskiMichelle Kowalski, a writer, editor and photography hobbiest living in Phoenix, was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes in February 2005. In January 2008, as part of her quest to start on an insulin pump, Michelle learned that she actually has type 1 diabetes. (Read More)
Lindsey Guerin
Lindsey GuerinLindsey is a typical, yet unique, Texas girl who loves shopping, movies and reading. She loves to travel and take risks. She dreams of diabetes cures, never-ending cheesecake and her own airplane. The rest you can discover in her blog! (Read More)
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