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We found 9 result(s) that match your search "eyesight":

I am a writer. At times, I fancy myself an artist. I create things. With pen, paper, a camera, paint.
My mother says that I ate the world up as a young girl. That I couldn't get enough. I would stay up into the wee hours, watching the shadows on the wall or examining the shapes on the wallpaper from top to bottom and then bottom to top. She also says I didn't care to sleep. She felt I was afraid I'd miss something. I think she's right.
I still spend a lot of time looking at things. Feeling light, color, and texture with my eyes. Scrutinizing the world around me. I suppose some of this is the artist in me. The need to really SEE things before I can include them in the art I'm making.
And some of it is how afraid I am of losing my eyesight. (READ MORE)

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As I came in the back door, I asked E. if it was OK that we had come this way. "Of course," she said, kissing my cheek, "you're family." It was Saturday night and we were all gathered to celebrate Hanukkah with our friends. Friends I've known since sixth grade, friends I went to high school with, grandparents of friends and ex-stepmothers of friends.
As with most holiday celebrations, one of the focuses of the evening was the food, particulary the potato pancakes. And Uh Mah Gawd does my friend's mom make the most incredible ones I've ever had. (OK so they're the only ones I've ever had, but that's not really the point.)
Anyway, as was requested, I sat where I was. Turns out there were mostly kids at my table, but whatever. I also sat next to Pearl, an old friend's grandmother. She has trouble walking and is without most of her upper body strength, so she essentially sat where she was, too. My friend J. asked Pearl if she could make her a plate. (READ MORE)

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As I came in the back door, I asked E. if it was OK that we had come this way. "Of course," she said, kissing my cheek, "you're family." It was Saturday night and we were all gathered to celebrate Hanukkah with our friends. Friends I've known since sixth grade, friends I went to high school with, grandparents of friends and ex-stepmothers of friends.
As with most holiday celebrations, one of the focuses of the evening was the food, particulary the potato pancakes. And Uh Mah Gawd does my friend's mom make the most incredible ones I've ever had. (OK so they're the only ones I've ever had, but that's not really the point.)
Anyway, as was requested, I sat where I was. Turns out there were mostly kids at my table, but whatever. I also sat next to Pearl, an old friend's grandmother. She has trouble walking and is without most of her upper body strength, so she essentially sat where she was, too. My friend J. asked Pearl if she could make her a plate. (READ MORE)

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I want to be healthy. I want to live as long as I can. I want to be complication free. I want to not have diabetes.

 

3 of those 4 statements above I can actually do something about. I can watch what I eat, exercise, and check my blood sugar all the time. I cannot cure myself but if I can take care of the other three then I would be doing pretty good in my book.

 

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I am on the floor of my brother's living room. My three year old nephew in my lap. He is reading to me about elephants and tigers, complete with animal sound effects. His body presses against my insulin pump, which in turn presses against my hip. I had almost forgotten that diabetes sits with me, even in these gorgeous, irreplacable moments. An unwelcome resident of my body, my mind, and my heart.
A little later, my nephew comes out of his bedroom and stands in the middle of the kitchen. He has a block tucked into the waistband of his pants. He pulls it out and starts pushing imaginary buttons.
I ask "What are you doing, Milton?"
"Giving my medicine, like Aunty Coley," he responds. (READ MORE)

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I'm often told what a wonderful mother I would make.
I'm often asked if Bob and I plan to have kids of our own.
My answer is usually something along the lines of "Who knows? Maybe someday we'll decide to adopt or foster children, but it's not likely I'll be giving birth anytime in the future."
This is around the time in the conversation that I get "the look." Sometimes, the person will express out loud what "the look" says so clearly. "It's the diabetes, isn't it?" (READ MORE)

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While waiting for Olivia to take her swim test at Clara Barton last week, I was eavesdropping on a couple of girls standing in front of me. They scared the crap out of me.
They were both talking about how they hated having to take insulin because insulin makes you fat. "It's true," one girl said, "I read it on the internet." The other girl was amazed, but believed her readily.
Then they started discussing how they both let themselves run high - so high that their meters just say HI - in order to maintain or even lose some weight. They both said that they rarely checked themselves, maybe checked a couple of times a week, lied to their parents about the frequency of their checks and made up bg readings. At this point, my eyebrows were practically at my hairline and I was trying to unobtrusively move a little closer so I could continue to listen. (READ MORE)

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My daughter informed me that today was Hug A Diabetic Day. So, I hugged her. I don't get to do that very often any more. I'll take any opportunity I can get.

 

Olivia and I talked this morning about the not checking/not entering her blood sugars. Well, it was more like I talked and she sat there, rather sullen. I told her she had two choices - I could lock up the food and she could come to me every time she wanted to eat or she could take more responsibility and I would just check her meter and pump daily.

 

She didn't really answer me, but today she's been much more diligent about checking and logging.

 

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When I was first diagnosed with diabetes, I read everything I could get my hands on about it. The fear of complications kept me in line. In fact, when faced with the temptation of cookies and cake, the phrase "blindness, dialysis and amputation" helped me walk away with not so much as a taste.
I guess that's why I took it so hard when my vision started blurring recently. At my post-pregnancy opthalmalogist visit, my eyeglass prescription had changed so much in the last six months, the doctor suggested checking again in a few months instead of getting a new prescription now. He explained my recent high blood sugars (thanks to that third attempt at diet and exercise "control") had temporarily distorted my vision. There are no signs of perminent damage, yet. Get my sugars under tighter control for a two to three months and we'll check again. (READ MORE)

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