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February 10th, 2012
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While my primary cycling fandom allegiance is to Team Type 1, since our household worships at the shrine of La Grande Boucle, you'll often find me streaming the day's race video on my computer, or when Versus or Universal Sports covers it, on the TV. So it was this morning, as the first of the three Grand Tours, the Giro d'Italia, played out its third stage.

 

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Diabetes is a very physical disease. It loves to leave behind marks to show it was there. The strange "tells," "war wounds," and "evidence" that this disease is wreaking havoc on my body both internally and externally.

 

The easiest sign of diabetes is the calluses on my fingertips. They've been my biggest complaint with this disease (physically at least) since I can remember. I hate the way they mar my fingers with their tiny spots and uneven edges. It never can be skin against skin, smooth and simple. When I run my hands over anything, I feel the tips of my fingers drop their tiny hints of this disease.

 

As if my fingertips weren't beaten enough, my body has all the signs of needles and insertions. I have bruises galore. Plus the tiny red spots from infusion sites and syringes. And every three months, there's the bruise of getting blood drawn on the crease of my arm.

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Happy Thanksgiving! It's a day of family, gratitude, and lots of food. A timeless tradition full of turkey, cranberries, and the ever present pie. Each year is a little different...family members come and go, recipes don't go as planned, and the football pick of the year wins the game.

 

This year, I want to focus on what I'm thankful for, what I'm happy for in my life right now. It's been a year of changes, ups and downs, bumps and bruises, smiles and tears. But today, it's not about the bumps and bruises, it's about the gratitude behind those smiles and tears.

 

I'm thankful for:

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Dating has a lot to do with how comfortable you feel in your own skin and especially around that other person. Diabetes, PCOS, and any other health condition really can make comfort an extremely troubling thing. It's something that I've become very familiar with over the past few years.

 

Diabetes can make feeling "okay" or "right" a distant thing, a rare thing. Each range of numbers can throw your moods into tailspins. Lows make you weak, anxious. Highs make you irritable, crabby. Just knowing the number, even without the biological effects, can upset a perfectly even keel.

 

There are the bruises and bumps from years of insulin injections. The calluses on fingertips. Those things don't make you feel comfortable, sexy in your own skin. They remind you, they remind your lover that you aren't whole.

 

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For some reason my fingers are not being very nice to me. All day I have had to squeeze my fingers so hard they hurt. They will not give up any blood! I literally tried all of my fingers three times before I finally got enough for my machine.
Now I do remember back in the day when it seemed to take a "gallon" of blood to get a glucose reading so I am thankful it is not that way any longer. But my One Touch takes a much bigger drop then some of the other machines I have used. Unfortunately my insurance will not cover any other strips but the One Touch. Again, I am thankful for that but I just need to vent a little.
My hand hurts from squeezing my fingers. I can hardly feel my poked fingers anyway so you know it's bad when the squeezing hand is hurting. I have tried the alternate site testing but it is hard for me to trust it. (READ MORE)


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Dear Diabetes,

 

Lately you've given me some troubles. Pesky lows in the thirties. Drastic drops during the night despite adequate carb consumption. Bruises from my insulin injections. Packing on pounds between the lows and fear of lows. The list really goes on and on...like usual.

 

But lately, I've also been ignoring you. I'm in the throes of my senior year of college. With tests every week, research for papers, and all sorts of miscellaneous assignments. Not to mention that my future is looming large in my mind, with only about seven months left until I'm thrown fully into adulthood. So I've ignored you.

 

I've kept my testing to a minimum five times per day. Stopped freaking out at the sight of crazy numbers. Let my logbook get behind. Avoided eating exactly right or counting every last carb. I've just let you go by the wayside, drifting around the sea like a speck of sand.

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Hey, bud. Been meaning to talk to you about this for a while. I've noticed that an awkward, unspoken rule has formed between us. Like you hold back when sharing concerns about little Timmy. Damn, that kid is cute. Have you met his father yet? Kidding.
You mention typical bumps and bruises sometimes, but you're quick to get off the subject, because "it's nothing compared to what you go through with Charlie and diabetes," you say.
It's true; it's not easy managing Charlie's diabetes. But you're allowed to be exhausted because you were up all night with the baby even though he doesn't have diabetes.
You're allowed to be worried over a rash or a bee sting or an especially peculiar smelling fart for that matter even though your child doesn't have diabetes.
I want to hear about it. I want to hear all about it.
In turn, I find myself not telling you everything about Charlie. I feel like you must be so tired of my complaining. (READ MORE)


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In DIABETES, "B" is another one of those letters that can stand for plenty. Basals, boluses, bruises, bumps. "B" makes me think of biscuits, babies, and books personally. And I could relate all those to diabetes but I'm not really looking for a collage. So instead, I'm going with a very specific meal of the day.

 

B: Breakfast is an important aspect of any diabetic's life. The first meal of the day can often make you or break you. I have to say that I'm a big breakfast fan. I grew up on my dad's homemade biscuits and waffles. I definitely still appreciate a good breakfast.

 

Unfortunately, breakfast is my worst meal of the day. Those few hours after are my most insulin resistant time of day. So all too often, I see post breakfast numbers way above where they should be for anyone. Especially when I'm indulgent with my favorite meals.

 

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Waiting.

 

Waiting for his blood sugar to come down.

 

Waiting for his blood sugar to come up.

 

Waiting for the school to call with his numbers.

 

Waiting for him to come out of hiding so we can get this damn thing over with.

 

Waiting for the bruises to heal.

 

Waiting for science.

 

Waiting for his A1c result.

 

Waiting for good news.

 

Waiting for ketones to go away.

 

Waiting for his test strips to be delivered.

 

Waiting for technology to improve.

 

Waiting for restrictions to be lifted.

 

Waiting for people to understand.

 

Waiting for him to get older.

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It was a blizzard.

 

It was pouring.

 

It was the coldest day of the year.

 

It was the night our power went out.

 

Like a parent recalling the day their child came into the world, Susanne talked to Charlie, as he sat on her lap, about what happened five years ago this day. The day he was diagnosed with diabetes. Not nearly as uplifting as a birth story.

 

He listened intently to the story as if not knowing how it would end, interrupting only once to say, "I think I remember riding in the ambulance."

 

"I remember the binky constantly falling out of the crib in the hospital room," Susanne said.

 

I remember the crib looking industrial and cold. It was like a large cage.

 

"Where did we sleep?" Susanne asked.

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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)
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)
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