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

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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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 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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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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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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I have been keeping a dirty little secret. I don't know why it feels like a dirty little secret, it's legal in 50 states and not immoral.
I've told everyone I haven't needed insulin since Kate was born. I was up to 30+ units a day of NPH. I haven't taken any NPH since her birthday. I also had an insulin pen of Humulin for the days that I just didn't control myself at lunchtime. Sometimes it was lunch out with the girls, or birthday cake at work, or just unfortunate run-ins with the evil vending machine. But it was important to control my sugars for the baby's sake, so I did what I needed to do. (READ MORE)

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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me. (READ MORE)

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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me. (READ MORE)

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I can remember the time when I had my worst low blood sugar. As diabetics, we all have a "hypoglycemia story". Some instances stand out more than others. Some of us can't recall our bad moments because we were probably passed out from being so low. I can actually say, proudly I might add, that I have never once lost consciousness in all my 13 years of living with this "AWESOME" (sarcasm) disease. I have never actually had to use the infamous glucagon kit. However, that's not to say that I haven't had some darn scary times. (READ MORE)

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While procrastinating on the internet today, I came across a funny article that reminded me of my early days of diabetes. The Roadkill Diet: A Low-Carb, High-Varmint Sensation?
The sad thing about this article is it refers to a report about how squirrels near my home are not safe to eat. First off, I had never heard of people eating squirrels before, but perhaps I've lived a sheltered life. Second, I live right outside New York City. Why would anyone in my area be eating squirrels? (READ MORE)

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