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

discouraged. No, that's not the right word.  Or maybe it's that it's not the only word.  Cocky is one, disappointed another. Defeated is too strong, but more internalized than disappointed.  Judged for sure, as it really does feel like my "grade". 

 

Following gestational diabetes, I was "diagnosed" with type 2 by an A1C result of 6.0 by an endocrinologist who shall remain nameless to protect the incompetent. It was later that I discovered that the A1C is NOT a diagnostic tool and you shouldn't be diagnosed by it. 

 

There was some debate once I changed endos as to whether I was "pre-diabetic" or actually had diabetes.  After several years on metformin, and another round of insulin-dependent gestational diabetes, with only a 0.2 improvement in my A1C, I think the debate is over.

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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. (READ MORE)

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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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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. (READ MORE)

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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. (READ MORE)

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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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There's an old joke about two blind men who, having never before encountered an elephant, are asked to describe it based on what they can touch of it. The one man, brought to the elephant's trunk, has a completely different description from the other, who was brought to its hind leg.

 

There's a famous experiment, proposed as a test for artificial intelligence, in which a person queries two entities about themselves and tries to determine which of the two is a man, and which is a machine.

 

And then there's the famous "black box" which, in theory, creates solutions from inputs, without any single entity knowing what it does to "create order from chaos". The black box is, in other words, magick.

 

Each of these requires that someone (or some thing) create a definition and a solution to a problem based on insufficient, empirical data.

 

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If someone in 2001 told me that in order to live with diabetes, one needed degrees in electrical engineering, biology, medicine, and computer programming, I'd've considered him a crackpot. Even living and working with people who had type 2 diabetes, my understanding of the condition was "restricted diet, pills, or insulin twice a day or at meals". I'd never heard of insulin pumps; CGMs were still several years off, and The Other Half was the only person I knew who was required to check his blood glucose levels.

 

Then again, I'd never lived (and still haven't) with type 1 diabetes. I'd never connected with the Diabetes Online Community. And I hadn't lived with proving that I didn't need medications for my medical conditions. (Yes, that type of denial.)

 

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When friends in one of my Pagan communities talk about disclosing their religion to others, they borrow a metaphor from our LBGT friends: they "come out of the broom closet". It's kind of appropriate, considering that many are Wiccan and that witches are associated with brooms in both folklore and practice. When we disclose our diabetes to someone, we may talk about "coming out of the insulin closet". I'm not sure the modifier is appropriate for those of us who have type 2 diabetes and who don't (yet) require exogenous insulin. Still, "coming out of the diabetes closet" doesn't have the same sort of "ring" to it...

 

I've been open about my diagnosis (hard not to be when you're blogging on a major diabetes site!) for long enough that my original migration from denial to the "closet", and gradually stepping out to the degree to which I'm open about it now is beginning to get fuzzy.

 

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