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May 26th, 2012
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Do you remember the diabetes-themed Hannah Montana episode last year that was leaked onto the Internet and swiftly pulled before it was aired on the Disney Channel?

 

 Well, it’s back.

 

You might recall the disappointment many in the diabetes community expressed after seeing diabetes depicted inaccurately - aiding the very misconceptions we work so hard to dispel. Terms like "sugar boy," written as a weak attempt to deploy canned laughter and delivered by young actors unaware of the potential damage it could cause, did not go over well with most of us.

 

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Yesterday we had a special “God and Country” service at church. We typically do a similar service under the flag pole on the 4th of July each year but this year we decided to do that service on Sunday instead so hopefully more of the congregation can enjoy and participate in this moving service.

The service starts outside under the flag pole. The local boy scouts troop retires the flag we fly, presents it to a veteran in our congregation, and posts a new flag. I love this stuff because, although I may not seem like it, I am a very patriotic person.

After that we all went into the church to continue the service. Myself, my daughter, and a few other singers all stood upfront and sang all of the theme songs from each military branch. As we sang them we had any veterans from each branch stand to be recognized.
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My latest A1c was 7.3. I'm feeling very neutral about it. It's neither high nor low to me. My goal is still 6.5, so the disappointment of being so far off from that is bothering me. But overall, I know that 7.3 is still down from where it was before (7.6) and in a moderately good range for me.

 

I know that getting below 7 is one of the hardest things to do, if not the hardest, so I can't be too hard on myself. It's very frustrating though that it is so hard to get there. Why can't this be a little easier? Or why can't I be a little better at getting things right? I know that I don't do everything right (I'm human!), but I also know that my slip-ups are exactly why my A1c is 7.3.

 

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I told him I’d take him for ice cream after his last hockey game.

 

Diabetes makes me a liar. It makes me break my word.

 

A blood sugar of 422 in the parking lot of Dairy Delite will do that.

 

"Oh no!," he says looking at the meter. He often prefers to look at the meter first and then show me. I guess he figures it’s his blood sugar. He gets to see it first.

 

"Maybe it’s because my hands are so dirty," he said optimistically, taking out another test strip and scrubbing his hands together with antibacterial lotion.

 

He tested again and this time it was higher. Maybe under normal circumstances he would be able to deal with disappointment, but when he’s over 400, well ... it was just a matter of time.

 

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There are some things I just don't get. Like why I've gained 2 lb. since starting my exercise goal for this month.
The first six weeks on Byetta I lost 4 lb. without exercise or really any adjustment in my diet. Now that I'm exercising and making more of an effort to cut out the junk in my diet, I've gained 2 lb. What the heck is up with that?
OK, I know it's been less than a week since I started walking (six days in fact, and I had to skip one day), but seriously why isn't the weight just melting off me yet? Imagine my disappointment when I jumped on the scale after having walked two or three days in a row (not to mention barely eating at a number of meals) to see that I had gained weight! (READ MORE)


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I should be at the gym right now, but I'm not. Instead, I'm bringing up a low after a torrential afternoon high. And I'm fighting back an endless downpour of tears. Tonight, I am struggling. Tonight, I am broken.

 

Unfortunately, this struggle isn't so new to me lately. I've been struggling for awhile now. I've been fighting off the heartbreak week after week. Tonight, I just don't seem to have the energy anymore. Life is getting to me. Stress is getting to me. Diabetes is definitely getting to me.

 

There is no overwhelming grief at the moment. No one thing that makes my heart break into a thousand pieces and my stomach turn the way it currently is. It's just all these small things lately that are adding up and keeping me from feeling the way that I know I should be feeling.

 

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There are enough issues with the data from our diabetes devices to make the average PWD's head spin.

 

First off, there's the sheer volume of it. Consider that the average glucometer burns through 1500 readings a year -- which hikes up somewhere closer to 6000 if you have type 1 diabetes and don't have a continuous monitor you can rely on. Then there are the carb counts, food data bases, multiple basal rates, special basal rates, bolus wizards, special bolus calculations, and the smartphone calendar alarm to manage them all. Those of us with type 2 diabetes may not have all the insulin data to collect, but we have instead the blood pressure data, and along with the caloric impact of the foods we eat, we have to capture the fat distribution and the sodium levels. For all of us who exercise regularly, there are the heart-rate monitor data, the treadmill, elliptical, and cyclocomputer statistics, and the rep charts for weights.

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Even superheroes have their weaknesses.

 

Charlie came home from school with a look of disappointment on his face.

 

"I didn't do well on the test," he told Susanne.

 

The test, recommended by his teacher, was an evaluation for advanced classes. He really wanted to do well on it.

 

The next day the guidance counselor called and Susanne mentioned that Charlie felt he did poorly on the test. The guidance counselor told Susanne that it couldn't have been more opposite than what really happened. She was giddy. Not only did he do extremely well on the test; a section on solving puzzles was the best she had ever seen from any student. Ever! She couldn't wait to pull Charlie out his classroom to tell him the news.

 

Sports have always come easy for Charlie. He excels in all that he plays and is more determined than anyone I know.

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Have you ever played the superpower game?  You know, the one where you select a superpower. 

 

If I could have a superpower, it would be the power to mend.  When I say mend, I mean I'd want to be able to fix broken things, sew on patches to life's tears, make things right. 

 

But in playing the superpower game, it's always best to consider consequences.  With my power, how would I decide what needs mending?  How would I decide which broken things should remain broken?  How would I manage the needs of so many and so much - the desperate pleadings of people who hope beyond hope for repair of some kind?  How would I handle the disappointment of those whose requests for mending butted up against my own judgment that some things should stay torn?  

 

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Snapshots:

 

Fingertips that look dirty, but they're just scars.

 

Connect the dots patterns on my thighs.  Pump site marks.

 

The scoff when I pick up the cake.  And eat it too.

 

Big blue bruise on my arm from that insulin injection.  Ouch.

 

268 on the screen.  58 on the screen. 99 on the screen.  Two out of three ain't bad.

 

I told you I hate you.  My bloodsugar was low.  Guilt.

 

My back hurts.  Not kidney failure, yard work. 

 

Spot in my vision.  Nope, just something in my contact lense. 

 

Foot tingling.  It was under your butt, dummy.

 

Cure?  Nope, cinnamon and disappointment.  

 

Hope?  Always.

 

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Julia
JuliaJulia lives behind the Tofu Curtain, in the Pioneer Valley, in Western Massachusetts. It's a nice place. She likes it there. Her eldest daughter, Olivia, has type 1 diabetes. She's also 13. It's a real toss-up as to which is more difficult -- the diabetes or the teen-age drama. (Read More)
George Simmons
George SimmonsGeorge Simmons is a father and husband living with type 1 diabetes. A self proclaimed "born again diabetic," George began blogging as a way to meet other people living with diabetes and learn more about managing his disease. (Read More)
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