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

Wow, what a storm that was started recently on my co-bloggers page. I have the utmost respect for you Michelle and your passion, writing ability, your life and even your disgust with diabetes when you wrote that blog. Please know this. I HAVE WRITTEN these types in the past too (when I was off). But you, and all the people that commented on your blog who, too, agree’d with your sentiment of “hating diabetes”, could not have proved a point with any clearer of an example of how out of touch we get with ourselves and life from time to time. This is ok, this is normal. It happens. But what you do with it when your faced with it, is what makes the difference and what can take you from a life of peace, or heaven, and true existence - to a place of hell, or unbalance, or non-peace.

 

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Time to close out your work week with a nice cup of coffee and the Blogabetes Weekly Round Up for November 30th.
Returning from maternity leave and ready to jump back in, Rebecca treats us to a four-part series on the birth of her first son. Great information here for anyone who is pregnant, or thinking of becoming pregnant, with diabetes. (READ MORE)

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I knew I was getting close to the banquet room for the JDRF annual meeting when I spotted a used ACCU-CHEK test strip on the carpet like a breadcrumb in the forest.

 

I was reluctant to go; reluctant to make the commitment. As it is, there are not enough hours in the day.

 

Walking through the doors was sort of surreal. It was like a plumbers' convention. Only they weren't plumbers. I snaked my way around the room looking for a place to sit, taking in the throng of diabetes chatter as the people talked shop.

 

Snippets of conversations zipped into my ears and blended into others.

 

"So I says, honey, you got to get a freakin' pump!" coming from one table.

 

"You get ketones?" from another table.

 

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I woke up low on Friday morning around 4 a.m. The good thing is that at least I wake up when I'm low.

 

It's strange, though, that I usually lay in bed either trying to convince myself that I'm not low or convince myself that I need to grab my meter. Friday morning I was debating whether to go potty first or test. And then deciding if the low or my bladder had woken me up.

 

I tested and was 44 mg/dL. Not too bad, but I felt like hell. I drank a juice and then headed for the bathroom. The puppies clearly thought it was time to get up because they started roughhousing and making tiny-dog noises (they are 5 lb. and 3 lb.). Which woke up The Mr. He was in a stupor, as most people are when they are awoken by funny noises at 4 a.m.

 

He mumbled something and from the bathroom I said, "I'm low."

 

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Every day, I live my life with diabetes the same way. I test my blood sugar, I treat lows and I change infusion sets. It is a part of me. Sometimes, it is all of me. I get frustrated on a regular basis with the highs and lows or the way it interrupts my entire life from school to dating to sleep.
It amazes me though when I look back on all those days. It makes me smile. As frustrated as I get and all the tears I cry, I don't remember diabetes as my past. Surely, it's there. I just don't remember the daily parts of the disease. (READ MORE)

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The list of things I shouldn't eat is long. And I typically ignore the list.

 

I'm a chocoholic. Pretty much everyone in my life knows it (even my seventh-grade boyfriend knew it!). One of my favorite phrases is, "This requires chocolate." I do feel guilty, though. Well, not guilty so much as self conscious. 

 

Today after lunch I got that familiar I-need-chocolate-after-lunch feeling. I grabbed $1.50 in change and walked to the other building.

 

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Got home from work, nuked my blackened pork chops and sat down at the table beside Susanne.
"So there's this company in England that has created cell clusters similar to those the body uses to control blood sugar," I tell her before lunging into my pork.
She sips her water and nods.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Pretty cool. Also, in another study in mice, it seems adult blood could be a richer source of insulin-creating stem cells than fertilized eggs," I continue.
"Uh huh."
"Yep. Hey, I had another idea for our fundraiser , "
That's when she stops me.
"Can we not talk about diabetes anymore tonight?"
Susanne is knee-deep in the trenches every day; desperately pulling down high sugars like helium-filled balloons that refuse to stay grounded. She spends other days saving Charlie from catastrophic lows. Saving our family. Making very difficult decisions. Taking blood from him in the wee hours of the night like a vampire. Getting her hands dirty. (READ MORE)

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In the last several weeks at work I've gotten two "Is that your phone?" comments about Dex, one "Is that your pager?" comment about Toohey and one "I think we just violated HIPPA" comment. Oh, and two very long, in-depth conversations about diabetes, pumps and continuous glucose monitors. It's interesting how much of this information had become visceral to me... I found myself explaining things I hadn't thought I would need to but realized that basic diabetes knowledge is not so common.

 

Actually, I take that back. Some people know enough about diabetes to be dangerous, but what they have no clue about is pumps and CGM. Which is fine. In fact, today I told a co-worker after a lengthy conversation about how the pump and the CGM work that I don’t mind talking about it. I clarified by saying as long as I wasn’t being judged and people who were asking questions were willing to accept that I am the expert.

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Nobody likes a know-it-all. I've worked really hard for a number of years to keep myself from saying, "Actually, this is how it is...." in just about every situation. I've worked hard to decide when I should make an issue out of what I think is right.

 

I think I'm doing pretty good with not forcing people to know that I know everything. Even when it comes to diabetes. I've written here before about avoiding conversations about diabetes and not getting into too much detail about certain diabetes-related issues. It depends on the person and the conversation and so many other factors.

 

But tonight while I was proofing a story for work, I went back and forth about whether to make the distinction between type 1 and type 2 diabetes for an audience that the majority of whom likely have no idea that there even is a difference.

 

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When Charlie and I arrived at the Walk to Cure Diabetes on Sunday it was a little chilly. Charlie had his sweatshirt zipped up high, covering his Charlie's Angels team T-shirt.

 

I unzipped my hoodie and urged Charlie to do the same.

 

"C'mon! You gotta wear that Charlie's Angels shirt with pride!"

 

Charlie shuffled beside me, his eyes pointed toward the pavement.

 

"I'm not proud to have diabetes."

 

I think I said something dumb in response like, "What do you mean?"

 

Of course I knew what he meant. He meant exactly what he said.

 

"Diabetes is stupid," he added. "I can't eat whatever I want whenever I want to."

 

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