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

Long before I discovered the diabetes online community or even knew what exactly a blog was, my mother introduced us to her neighbor's granddaughter.
She wore something called a pump and her parents used frightening foreign words like bolus and basal.
We were still very much shell-shocked from Charlie's diagnosis. Measuring out units of insulin into a syringe and learning to count carbs was scary enough. What they were talking about was , was , quantum mechanics. It made us very nervous. We weren't the sharpest tools to begin with. We might not be smart enough for diabetes, we thought. (READ MORE)

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In the final hour of the third straight morning of basal testing, Charlie finally had enough.
"Can I eat something now?" He yelled from his room.
"Something WITH carbs!" he added.
At this point Charlie had gone quite savage - pouncing on slow-moving stink bugs and flicking them in his mouth like popcorn and licking the carpet up and down in search for old crumbs and juice stains.
We spent the long holiday weekend testing Charlie's morning basal rates. The results were extremely telling.
Take a look at Saturday morning's fasting numbers:
7 am - 118 8 am - 141 9 am - 228 10 am - 260 11 am - 192 12 pm - 186 (READ MORE)

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In my last post, I wrote about fear.  Turned out, my roommate didn't even wait a week.  She left on Friday morning, in a torrent of weird and angry that I won't get into.  I spent the better part of Friday with bloodsugars through the roof.  This continued into the weekend a bit, until I finally got a handle on my own ball of emotions.

 

To add to the diabetes madness, my insurance company has decided to stop covering the Novolog insulin that has worked so well for me for so long.  Well, it's not that they won't cover it, exactly.  It's just that I'm now required to get a prior authorization and pay the third tier cost for the drug.  Clearly, taking on a place meant for two on my own has thrown enough of a wrench in my finances that an additional $75 per month in co-pays is not going to happen.  

 

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Eat dinner no later than five pm and fast until seven am. Perform five blood sugar checks throughout the night. Fast until twelve pm, six pm or ten pm. Check your blood sugar every two hours. Does this sound familiar?
You guessed it. Basal tests. My least favorite thing about the pump.
I hate having to eat at a required time (and worrying about what I eat to make sure there isn't a huge delay). I hate having to check my blood sugar every two hours. I find it a little frightening to fast for that many hours at a time. Plus, I just hate fasting (I like to eat when I'm hungry). (READ MORE)

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After Olivia's run of high blood sugars over Christmas, I decided yesterday (the 26th) to give her a temporary basal rate. I think the combination of all the extra food around plus not being in school and being active is what's sent her blood sugars thru the roof. Well, that and not testing. That probably didn't help either. (Boy, do I need an eye rolling smiley right about now.)

I'm hoping that I wasn't too aggressive with the increases in her basal rates. She was getting 37.4 basal units per day and now she's up to 41.3. It's not a huge increase, but I do get worried when I make these changes.
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I haven't ACTUALLY basal tested in awhile (by that, I mean I haven't done it the right way, but surely I've watched my numbers fall in patterns). I usually eat the same things for breakfast, so to me basal testing for the morning hours seems a bit ridiculous. But the last few days of numbers have me thinking that a basal test is in demand.

 

I've been trying to check after meals more regularly so that I can see if I want to go on Symlin later. But these new numbers have me wondering what is going on inside this body of mine.

 

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Is it so much to ask for to want to wake up every hour from midnight to 7 am and take small drops of blood from my 5-year-old son all night long? I'm sure this is every dad's fantasy. Insane, the things I wish for now.
We have been trying to do overnight basal testing for Charlie now for thirteen days straight. We just can't do it. It's absolutely ridiculous. Every single night we're forced to abort our mission before we can even get started. What's most frustrating is that all we need as a prerequisite is to have him somewhere in the 120 to 220 area at about 9 pm-10 pm, when the dinner insulin has run its course. Amazingly, we can't do it. Night after night. (READ MORE)

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It's Spring break. The kids are home from school and the sun is shining (well, not really, but just go with it). Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Yeah, I know it's crazy, but hey, it's Spring Break. You're only young once. Let's get a little wild!

 

I'm talkin' one full week of all-inclusive, inverted, unadulterated, topless …

 

BASAL TESTING!

 

Woo-hoo! Par-tay!

 

How awesome is this gonna be? Charlie will get the full Spring Break experience. Unlimited Jell-O shots; binge testing; zany contests to see how long he can go without eating. It will be like being in Cabo San Lucas only from the comfort of our own home.

 

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No, not an unpublished picture book from Eric Carle's darker days. This very hungry vampire is full-bellied and satisfied after "pigging out" on Charlie's blood all night; his fingertips unknowingly served buffet style while he slept.
The mood was ripe for basal testing. It wasn't a site-change day. There wasn't a cold brewing. He didn't have pizza or any other type of slow-digesting fatty foods. He didn't have an excessive amount of physical activity during the day. He wasn't ovulating (that's certainly good news). He wasn't on steroids (yet). Baseball doesn't start until Spring. He didn't have a meltdown just prior to bedtime because he thought his sister was being "sartastic" when she said his victory over the whomping willow tree in the Harry Potter Chamber of Secrets video game was "fascinating." Yes, the mood was ripe. (READ MORE)

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I’m home this week watching the kids while Susanne is enduring four straight days of alien-like probing at Temple University Hospital to study her newly diagnosed gastroparesis. They are sticking tubes everywhere they possibly can - snaking her like a backed-up toilet.

 

Tomorrow they’ll go from mouth to nose and perhaps nose to ear as if her head is a wooden Tinkertoy spool.

 

Today’s tests were pretty horrible for her. The kids made cards to cheer her up. Charlie’s sentiments appear to come from his own personal experience.

 

Front cover: "Sorry the Docter STINKS! I Love U!"

 

Inside: "Dear Mom, I’m sorry the Docter is a nag! Who likes the Docter! I Love U Mom! Love, Charles"

 

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