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If you are a kid out there who is living with diabetes then you are still a great person and you have a lot ahead of you to look forward too. I remember when I was diagnosed, I was fourteen and I felt like I had the whole world in my hands. Then I got diabetes and that changed dramatically. I was all of the sudden forced to face the world in a completely new territory; I no longer felt like I was perfect. It was easy to ignore diabetes and act like it didn't change anything. But, I want to make clear to you that you have to pay attention to it.
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I went out to lunch with a group after church today. I have not been going to this church very long and this was my first time joining this group. I didn't know any of the people very well at all.
I had the 4 year old and the 6 month old along and they were keeping me hopping. (Actually just the 4 y.o.) We all perused the menu. It was a Mexican restaurant.
[I can hear the gasps from you now. Mexican food is very high carb, high fat and difficult to judge as far as blood sugars. It's also a big fat no-no for most diet plans.]
I made a not-wise selection but justified most of it by substituting whole black beans for the refried beans that came with the lunch special. Yes, the fiber would undo the 100 grams of carbs I was about to ingest. Then I tuned into the discussion across the table.
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55, 48, 35. These numbers mean nothing really until you see them on the One Touch after testing because you feel a little off. Not low, just a little off. Or maybe you don't even feel off, you're just testing because you're about to eat lunch. These are the moments (like this one!) you start shoveling Skittles down your throat because the second you see that low is when you start to feel it. And it feels like s%$t!! (It's not easy to type when you're low, by the way.)
Happens on the other side of the spectrum for me, too. Sure there are times when cotton mouth, fatigue and a hideous headache clue me in to a ridiculous high, but there are just as many times when I feel perfectly fine and I find that I'm well over 200 or 300.
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Charlie was diagnosed with diabetes four years ago today.
Charlie never was a good sleeper. So when his twenty-minute naps changed to two-hour naps in the late summer of 2003, we saw it as a godsend. By September and into early October, we had to wake him from naps approaching three hours.
Suddenly he lost interest in eating. Susanne thought he surely had some sort of stomach virus brewing. But he never got sick.
Soon after, his appetite for fluids increased greatly as he voraciously guzzled tall glasses of milk and clawed at the refrigerator for more. It was never enough. This was followed by Charlie often waking up in the middle of the night drenched in urine from neckline to toe. I can remember Susanne constantly changing the sheets in the crib.
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Most days I'm the one who grabs the mail before coming in the house. Most days I'm the one who sorts through and throws the bills in a pile and the junk in the trash. Most days I ignore pretty much anything from an insurance company.
Which is exactly what happened the day before yesterday. I didn't notice the envelope from my insurance company until this morning while I was battling with No. 2 to get dressed/eat breakfast/quit fussing/stop acting like a brat.
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Back on November 14th was World Diabetes Day. I really wanted to do something special to mark the day this year. I decided I would write a song and record myself playing it to try and raise some awareness.
On my drive home from work on Thursday the 13th I started humming a tune that I thought would work. I knew I wanted the song to be my personal feelings about my disease and I wanted it to be empowering.
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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me.
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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me.
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Many of us have wondered "Why me?" when confronting this disease. It’s easy to get caught up in pity when you’re diagnosed with a chronic illness. We want a reason for our diabetes. Not a medical cause, but a legitimate human reason. What did we do to bring this on ourselves? Is it some sort of punishment? Is it a test? Is it God’s/god’s/the universe’s doing?
The "Why me?" question seems to be a necessary phase in order to fully cope with diabetes. Granted, we may never find a true answer to why this happens to us, but processing the information and coming to terms with it helps us deal.
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I was a little shocked, actually, to have gotten a real answer instead of a blow off "It's in medical review" answer.
My pump rep and my endo's nurse have jumped through hoops giving my insurance company the information it needs/wants in regard to approving my
CGMS claim. I thought there was going to be a conversation between the insurance folks and my doctor's office, not just a flat out "No." I really thought that giving them all this information and stressing that I have hypo unawareness would surely make them say yes. Like I said, I was shocked.
I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand I'm still ready for a fight. I've called my pump rep to fill him in and see where we go from here--not to say, "I give up, thanks for trying." On this hand I feel a little angry that they have all this information detailing medical necessity and still say no.
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