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

See that cat, he's jumping for joy - in spite of early-morning stressors...
I thought for sure I was going to be late.
I got in my car at 7:20 - I'd have enough time to make it into Providence for my 8:00 appointment with the doc - with time to spare. But there was traffic. A lot of it.
I was fairly certain my blood pressure would be through the roof when I finally arrived at the doctor's office 5 minutes late. (READ MORE)

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My son came to me the other night and asked if he could ask me some questions about diabetes. One thing I never do is turn away an opportunity to talk to my kids about diabetes. I want them to understand, as much as they can, about what diabetes is.
Maybe this is not true for other people with diabetes but a part of me is waiting for this disease to go after my kids. I am guessing that it's normal to not want your kids to deal with what you have to but sometimes I worry that I worry too much!
When I asked what brought on this interview he explained to me that it was for a paper he is working on for school. And with that the interview began.
He asked me to tell him all about diabetes to which I responded with something like, "We do not have enough time for that dude. Tell me what you know and I will fill in and add from there." (READ MORE)

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Diabetes has had us back on our heels and off-balance since school started. Charlie has had very high blood sugars. In turn, we're doing a lot of guessing. Guessing is not a great strategy when dealing with a major disease. Such is life with diabetes.

It is during these times that diabetes likes to send a message. It likes to bring you down to size and remind you that you're not in control. Just as we were about to make changes to deal with the constant highs, the unexpected sound of panic lifts me from my chair.

"Carey! Juice box now!!! He's very low!!!"

I pop from my chair like a firefighter responding to an alarm and grab two juice boxes. I can hear Susanne's voice growing louder as I make my way upstairs.

"CHARLIE! CHARLIE! I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP!"

"CHARLIE!"

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Managing my son's diabetes is often like a game of chicken.  A blood sugar of 65 before bedtime when just two hours earlier he had French fries. That's a tough spot to be in. I'm almost certain his blood sugar will rise from those fries, but when? When will it rise? What if he goes even lower? It's like the blood sugar is bluffing, but what can I do? I'm forced to give him a slight carb boost knowing that it will ultimately make the situation worse.

 

Diabetes wins this game of chicken. Susanne sets the alarm for 2 am as we await the anticipated wrath of the fries.

 

But what happens when you sleep through the alarm? Wouldn't it be cool if a character from your dreams was there to wake you up?

 

She was not a pretty sight, this woman. She had hairy legs, several missing teeth, unkempt hair, was in her late 60s and she cruised around on roller skates. And, um ... she was topless.

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It doesn't happen very often, but occasionally my subconscious decides to connect with reality. I'm talking about dreaming. And lows.

 

This morning, I was in the middle of another bizarre dream. I've had several nightmares lately so this dream was a small relief compared to the horror stories going on in my sleep. Marvin and I were driving in an unknown city attempting to get into a parking garage. For some reason, we'd stopped in the middle of the road.

 

Next I know, there is a car rammed into the back of ours. Suddenly, I was low in my dream. My stomach had that butterfly feeling. I pulled out my meter and checked even amidst the car accident. According to my dream, I was only 120.

 

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I'm sorry.

 

I'm sorry I stumbled into bed at midnight and woke you up; piss drunk on TLC and Discovery channel programming. Back-to-back episodes of Hoarders, dysfunctional tattoo artists and the fascinating sex life of giant sea clams of the Pacific.

 

I know you've had migraines for like eight straight days and the closest thing to real food you've had in the past month has been licking the salt off a tortilla chip.

 

So I'm sorry. I'm sorry I decided, at midnight, to bring you in on my idea for a movie script. You remember - the one about the guy in a coma who is stuck in a dream which becomes his reality. A dream in which he is a wandering homeless man who builds relationships with estranged family members (those at his bedside) urging him to come back.  Now that it's morning, the idea doesn't seem nearly as good. And yes, you were right. A tad depressing.

 

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Last night I had a crazy dream. Nothing new, right? Well, this one actually makes sense. Yes, I can interpret it! Yes, I often analyze my dreams. And yes I more or less “listen” to what those dreams tell me.

 

They said when you have a dream that involves you being naked it means you’re insecure about something. The first naked dream I remember having was right around the time my grandfather died. In the dream I was naked and put on my grandfather’s robe to cover myself up. It makes sense: I felt scared/insecure about my grandfather dying and found something of his to comfort me.

 

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Last night I used two of the techniques D ask me to use to help with my eating issues. First, she asked me to journal with three specific phrases:
1. I feel (blank) about (blank).
2. What would I like to do about it?
3. I choose to: problem solve or distract.

 

I had been hungry all day. Part of it was my fault for not eating enough breakfast or lunch. By the time I got to dinner I was famished. I started thinking about going out for ice cream after dinner. Even a walk -- in the 103* heat -- after dinner didn't seem to distract me enough. I kept thinking about ice cream for at least an hour after the walk. Some applesauce helped.

 

ANYWAY.

 

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I don't dream so much anymore of a cure.  I suppose I feel that in cutting off the dream of a cure, I spare myself disappointment or heartache in the long run. 

 

But today is a Friday, and Fridays are for dreaming.  Letting go of stressors.  Play. 

 

So I let myself dream this morning for a few minutes in bed before I got up.  I sat in bed, knees bent, Curtis in bed beside me, snoring away.  I looked at my insulin pump site, which is already red and irritated after just one day (fantastic, that'll need to go sooner rather than later) and the litter of scars on from my knees to my hips from past sites.  I looked at my fingers, one at a time.  Dirty-looking callouses looking back at me.  

 

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One of the advantages of modern technology is the ability to view remote events live; another is to discuss a presentation, while it is being presented, "in the back channel" — i.e., in a chat room or on Twitter. These technologies give many of us who could not otherwise attend a technical presentation the opportunity to attend virtually, and to participate. This past week has been chock full of such opportunities.

 

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