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

Having been away for a weekend of fun since Friday morning, I feel like I've been living under a rock! Albeit a really fun rock, with a little alcohol, BBQ, and great music, but still a rock.

 

So, as I watched Barack Obama introduce his first Supreme Court appointment, Sonia Sotomayor, this morning, I was taken aback to discover that she has type 1 diabetes. That she was diagnosed at eight years old. That she's lived with type 1 for 46 years.

 

How incredibly inspiring for people with diabetes. Even more inspiring, I would imagine, for those raising children with type 1.

 

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After I got Diabetic Echoes up and running as a website, I noticed that my college campus needed a place for diabetics and those interested in diabetes. So I went about setting up the organization with my campus. It was a long process, which took careful planning and creativity.

 

The group started last semester with four members including myself. We met every other week to prepare for this semester, talk about the JDRF Walk, and discuss things that were happening in our diabetes lives. Finding other members proved difficult, although I wasn't ready to give up just yet (after all, we raised over $1000 for the JDRF Walk).

 

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When we got out of the car, the first thing Charlie did was adjust his "Charlie's Angels" t-shirt so that his insulin pump was visible to his fellow diabetic comrades.

 

Then he scoped the area for others who sported similar machinery. If there was a "D" signal on the pump, he would have surely activated it.

Calling all diabetics! Calling all diabetics! Rendezvous at the Tastykake table in 5. Tell your mothers you feel low.

We had a gorgeous day filled with sunshine and the support of great friends and family who walked beside us for a cure at Rutgers University's agricultural campus.

 

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Lately, I've been out of sync.  Off kilter.  In a rut.

 

I'm not making it to the gym as often as I should.  My meter average has crept from the low 100s to 158 mg/dl in the past couple of months.  I am ignoring the lunches I pack and and either not eating at all or eating whatever crap is available in the office lunchroom. 

 

I'm not sure exactly how it happens, this out of sorts business.  But it feels like every so often, I go right off the rails without even realizing it's happening.  One day, I think maybe I've got a handle on diabetes, weight, work, life.  And in an instant, it changes. 

 

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It's always interesting to meet fellow diabetics in person. It doesn't happen all that often to me, but occasionally I will bump into someone and find out they are diabetic too. Being a pumper has definitely changed that awareness (because you know all diabetics can spot a fellow pumper from miles away!).

 

Over the summer, I went in to have a microdermabrasion procedure (trying to get rid of the post-acne marks from the PCOS) at a local doctor's office. My new patient forms asked the usual questions: pre-existing conditions, prescriptions, etc. So I marked the normal things: diabetic, PCOS, on humalog, etc. and moved on.

 

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I've been reading "Psyching Out Diabetes" off and on. Each chapter is devoted to a different emotion that commonly affects diabetes management. So far, I haven't had an epiphany. But it is nice to hear what some diabetics struggle with in their diabetes growth and how those outside are affected.

 

One of the topics in the "Anger" chapter is about terminology and labels. What is right: diabetic or person with diabetes? The great debate!

 

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A pilot in Denton, Texas, made an emergency landing near a freeway yesterday because he felt lightheaded. Only one media source stated he was diabetic. Yet the article made every major newspaper in the area.

 

Thursday, I drove down the highway in rush hour traffic digging through my bag and eating everything I had with me. As I stuffed the glucose tabs into my mouth, I sat wondering about my fellow drivers. Were any of them diabetic? Had they driven this low before? Would they be mad because I was driving low (granted we didn't reach speeds above 15 mph)?

 

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I have vivid dreams. When I close my eyes at night, a whole new world appears, in living color. My dreams hold smells and sounds and sights that often rival the sensory reality of my waking life. There have been times when I could swear I've seen people, had conversations, and done things in real life, when these memories were simply creations of my sleeping mind. I know that I talk, run, laugh, and cry while I sleep; something that makes sharing a bed with me a real challenge. I suppose that the vividness of my dreams might be a reflection of the constant activity in my brain. (READ MORE)

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For a number of years, I was the only diabetic I knew. Diagnosed when I was a little kid, there wasn't an army of advocates knocking down the doors of my school. As far as I knew, the only meter in my elementary school was mine. In my high school, there were two meters: mine and the one belonging to a classmate's older sister. No one else I knew was taking a fingerstick before having the orange slices at soccer practice, or before tap dance lessons.
My first taste of a diabetes community came one summer at camp. Growing up in New England, I had access to one of the best diabetes camps in the country - Clara Barton Camp. I spent six summers at CBC, giggling with my fellow campers, singing my lungs out at the nightly campfire meetings, and making friends. (READ MORE)

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(Continued From Previous Post)
I am dependent on insulin. But I am otherwise an incredibly independent person. I like taking risks - on my own. I enjoy the feeling of having accomplished something by my own will and my own action. I am more outgoing and more confident than I think I would have been if I'd not been diagnosed. A combination of wanting to be able to handle my disease on my own, without pity or judgment AND the experiences I had as a young woman - through the Clara Barton Camp and the ADA's Youth Congress - transformed me from a shy, albeit precocious kid, to a person who stands on her own. A person who keeps her head up and battles mightily - in the face of whatever wrong she sees and whatever challenges she faces. But would I trade my independence for a life without diabetes? I would - though again, who's to tell if something else might have brought me to this same place. (READ MORE)

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