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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "father with type 1":

Long before I discovered the diabetes online community or even knew what exactly a blog was, my mother introduced us to her neighbor's granddaughter.
She wore something called a pump and her parents used frightening foreign words like bolus and basal.
We were still very much shell-shocked from Charlie's diagnosis. Measuring out units of insulin into a syringe and learning to count carbs was scary enough. What they were talking about was , was , quantum mechanics. It made us very nervous. We weren't the sharpest tools to begin with. We might not be smart enough for diabetes, we thought. (READ MORE)

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I believe a good workout comes with sweat. Which is why I don’t exercise during my lunch break and also why I prefer to exercise first thing in the morning.

 

I prefer to do my exercise walking outside. Using a treadmill is a last resort for me. I’m one of those weird people who’s more likely to exercise if it means I *don’t* have to go to the gym.

 

I’ve written a number of times lately about being committed to figuring out how to fit exercise into my schedule. The farthest I’ve gotten is the part where I say I’m going to think about it. But I’m getting fluffy and clothes that used to fit beautifully aren’t so much any more. Plus, I feel good when I exercise.

 

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Being a dad has lots of challenges. Heck, being a parent is the best but scariest job you can have! But having diabetes and being a parent has its own unique challenges.
I find that when my kids witness a low or any complication with my disease I end up feeling guilty. Why should they have to worry about their father at such a young age? They have enough to worry about. I hate it.
One evening my kids started asking lots of questions about diabetes and of course, I am always willing to talk to them about anything they are questioning. My son asked, "Are we going to get diabetes?" (READ MORE)

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In my recent post "My 25," number 13 remarked "I'm not so sure that I'd want to sacrifice what I've gained from it [diabetes]." After some interesting perspectives in the last few weeks about diabetes, I've found myself truly wondering...would I do it?

 

The question is...would I sacrifice everything that diabetes has given me to be without it? Do I honestly hate diabetes enough to throw away every diabetes by-product in my life? My honest answer is no.

 

Do I desperately want a cure? Yes! Do I constantly fight for one? Yes! Am I willing to do whatever possible now to make sure that I can live some PART of my life without diabetes? Yes!

 

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Sometimes diabetes makes me feel so alone. I've always been the "token" diabetic in my family. And after almost fifteen years of being the only one, I'm adjusted to the idea. I'm good at doing this "alone." I actually like it. I know that no one I love deals with it. I never have anyone to blame. Plus it makes me unique.
In October of last year... that all changed. My dad was diagnosed with type 1. I've never worried about my parents getting it, only my future children. Yet here we are: my father has my disease. It feels horrible, a true blow to the gut. (READ MORE)

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I watched The Perfect Storm today on TV.  If you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend it, it’s a beautifully sad movie. 

 

Today, it got me thinking of uncertainty.  Thinking about the way that for many people tomorrow, in and of itself, isn’t a promise.  In fact, for many people tomorrow is all about luck, chance, an unseen drawing of cards. 

 

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Here's a wonderful rainy-day project that's perfect for children and adults of all ages.

 

In our household, we love to gather around a child with diabetes and create these charming découpage infusion set sites - providing a unique and modern twist to traditional drab medical adhesives.

 

With Father's Day fast approaching, I've selected these fabulous clip art images of famous fathers to glue onto your child's body – Father Guido Sarducci, Father Time, Puff Daddy and Papa John. I just love the way the Papa John's pizza with all the toppings came out. Yum! What child wouldn't want to wear one of these magnificent infusion sites in the likeness of these wonderful fathers on their bottom?

 

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I know he meant well.
I know he was just curious.
I know he is simply concerned about my health.
But seriously, since when is "So how's your diabetus?" an acceptable question?
It's not like saying "How's your broken leg?" or "Is your cold getting any better?" The status of diabetes doesn't get any better.
I should say, though, that I suspect my friend--whom I had reminded that I have diabetes when he spotted my pump the day before I got hooked up--was really just wondering if the pump was making things easier for me. In fact, he asked as much several minutes later. (READ MORE)

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My father’s sister Margaret died of complications from diabetes at the age of 51.  It was an awful thing to watch.  The years between her fortieth birthday and her dying day were overfilled with pain.  She had issues with her toes, issues with her eyes, she had multiple strokes.  My father, a decorated Marine and police officer, held his little sister’s hand through too much heartache.  When she died, in a nursing home, too young and too sick for words, he cried.  

 

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Charlie crosses home plate, tosses his helmet on the ground and sits with the rest of his team. The day is beautiful. The grass is cool. He lays back to bask in it.

When he lays flat on his back, he exposes his robot parts. He's normally disconnected for baseball. But not today.  Immediately, his teammates crawl on top of him like ants on an abandoned Popsicle.

"What is it?" one boy asks.

They poke at the foreign object.

"It's an iPod Nano!" a blonde-haired boy with a runny nose says authoritatively in between batting practice swings.

"Uh uh!" another boy disputes. "It's a game."

"I just farted on you," a third boy tells Charlie.

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