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I often wonder what the "best" age is to be diagnosed with diabetes. (I'm not saying there is a "best" but I wonder when it's "easiest" persay.)
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Olivia made that statement today after school. She does a lot of instant messaging with her friends from camp and today she was talking with one of the girls who was in her cabin last summer. Her friend, E, was diagnosed about 9 months ago.
"I'm glad I'm not E, mum."
"Uh, ok, why?"
"Well, she was just diagnosed. She has to get used to this whole lifestyle. I don't even remember not having diabetes. I'm lucky I was so young when I was diagnosed."
I didn't really know what to say to that. I mean, given the choice of being diagnosed at 3 years old or 13 years old, I'd have taken the extra ten years with her pancreas functioning. But I can also see her point of view - she doesn't have this huge lifestyle adjustment to make.
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I promise you, I don't go looking for bloggable moments from Charlie. I don't follow him around the house like the Verizon Wireless guy, asking, "How do feel about diabetes now? How do you feel about diabetes now? How do you feel about diabetes now?"
Take last night, for instance. I was minding my own business as I dried him off after his shower and we walked into his room, when he hits me with ,
"Dad, do you ever wish you had diabetes?"
"Well ,," I said, stalling while thinking how best to respond.
"Well, sometimes I do because I don't want you to feel alone."
"Oh," Charlie said with a thin smile. "I thought you were going to say 'no.'"
"Why?"
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Blah, blah, blah, here she goes again, pissing and moaning about logging.
Back when the year was shiny and new, as opposed to snow-covered and grubby (and enough with the snow already, ok? I'm SICK of it. Sick.) I resolved to be more diligent about logging Olivia's blood sugars. And for a few weeks I was. And then I forgot for a couple of days. And then it was Thursday and I thought, well, I'll just start over on Monday. And I forgot again.
I've logged in fits and starts over the last 2 months, but mostly, I haven't logged at all. And now she has an endo appointment tomorrow and I'm not going to have that much information to give her and I'm pissed at myself.
I just don't know how to make myself log. I forget. And if I'm forgetting to log, how am I supposed to teach Olivia? I'm not setting a good example at all and they always tell you (who are they anyway?) that you should lead by example when it comes to your kids.
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So last night, I did the Dumbest Thing Ever. I had a couple of glasses of wine while we had family over, celebrating a birthday, and after they left, I went to bed and turned on the television. And what was on?
Steel freakin' Magnolias.
I haven't watched that movie since about a year after Olivia was diagnosed. I tried watching it then and bawled my eyes out. Well, guess what? I did it again last night. Mark was asleep beside me and I had to hold my hands over my mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. It was awful. I couldn't finish watching it.
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Just the other day I was speaking with a group of co-workers about different life changing events in the life of someone with diabetes. As we sat there and talked about it I began to reflect on my own. I thought about the different times in my life such as diagnosis time, school, relationships, complications, and work. All things that every person living with diabetes can relate to, or will eventually deal with.
Where were you when you were diagnosed? What were you doing that day or at that particular time in your life? Were you at work? Were you at school? Did you go into a coma or diabetic ketoacidosis? Was your vision so blurry, that like me, you realized you couldn't see the picture on the t.v.?
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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.
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I watch as a girl with braces sets down a tower of pizza boxes at lanes 18 and 20. I shift my eyes to Charlie, who has just launched a bowling ball overhand onto the wood floor baseball style, scaring the children in the neighboring lanes. I watch him manipulate the air like a mime; steering the ball off the bumpers to the left then to the right before pumping his fist in victory.
"I got eight!" he yells excitedly from about 15 feet away.
I look over at the pizza again as the other kids start to filter in around the table. I look at Charlie. Charlie looks at the pizza. Charlie looks at me. I look at him. Like a dog at the dinner table, Charlie takes one more look at the kids munching on the pizza.
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I had a very curious and unexpected conversation at work recently. An amusing person that I work with, who I'll refer to as "The Random Talker", will pour out mouthfuls of directionless information at the drop of a hat. I'm talking about a totally un-sequestered menagerie of anomalous comments. This time, however, something struck home with me and we had a more meaningful, if not still awkward conversation.
Random: "Sometimes I get really angry and confused when I don't eat enough"
Me: "Oh really, I know the feeling,"
Random: "I become
hypoglycemic, but I bet you don't know what that is, do you?"
Me- (Sounding like a know it all): "Ya, your blood sugar drops, and you can get sweaty, hungry, nervous, jittery, not a good feeling"
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For years I was a smoker. I smoked a pack a day at the very least for 15 years. Addiction is powerful.
I finally kicked that habit but realized that nicotine is not the only drug I am addicted to. The other is much easier to get and I am not sure I want to quit it yet.
Caffeine.
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