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

It happened quickly: one day I was dealing with a cold, another day I realized I was fighting allergies, and between the time I woke up on Monday and drove to work my throat was so sore and my ear hurt so bad that I called the doctor.

 

You wouldn't think that in such a dry climate we'd have to deal with allergies, but allergens can actually be pretty bad here in the spring. So I'm sure that between the cold and the allergies my body just couldn't fight any more and my tonsils got infected. Not bad enough that they need to come out, but bad enough for a seven-day course of antibiotics.

 

And with antibiotics -- not to mention an infection -- comes a whole host of diabetes considerations. First, just the nature of having diabetes makes it more difficult to fight an infection. Diabetes + infection = high blood sugar. Or at least it can. On top of that, antibiotics can cause high blood sugar.

 

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Patti LaBelle is on the TV singing about how a certain glucose monitor changed everything. "Back then, food was the enemy," she says. My mind flashes to a host of studies I've come across recently touting different foods as the "cure." I can't help but see the humor in it.
We all know diabetes and food are so closely linked that often it's hard to deal with daily diabetic life without feeling like you have a major eating disorder. And while these new studies shouldn't give anyone a license to eat with abandon, it's nice to see research money being spent investigating food and nutrition, instead of new drugs.
Here's a look at some of my favorite new finds: (READ MORE)

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When I was four years old, I wondered why the doctors never made me better. Why did I have to go four times a year yet still get my finger checked, take shots, and miss out on half the fun of being a kid? I couldn't understand why seeing the doctor didn't make it all go away...everything was always better if you went to the doctor.

 

I was an angry four year old. I went to a psychologist for a time and my parents bought plenty of books (by plenty, I mean the two that were available at the time) about being a kid with type 1 diabetes in 1993. My parents treated me like a normal little girl, except that I couldn't have birthday cake or go to school without a lot of stress.

 

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A kink already.

 

I told Mom this morning about my new schedule. The one where my retired mother doesn't have to get up so early any more to be to my house by 7:15 a.m. to take care of the kids before school so The Mr. and I can get to work on time. She loved it, by the way. Also because she knows I need and want to exercise.

 

Not long after she left the house, though, she called to remind me that my plan to start my new schedule on Monday (I hate starting on Mondays) may need to be rethunk. (rethinked? reconsidered?) No. 1 and No. 2 start their two-week spring break on Monday and they are going to day camp. Camp that's on *my* way to work. Camp that *I* was planning to drop them off at around 7 a.m. on my way to work. Camp that I'm not sure I can convince The Mr. to take them to because it's slightly out of his way and will require him to give up driving his motorcycle to work for two weeks.

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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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In keeping an eye on diabetes news and the progress of various studies going on around the world, one thing is clear. There is a fight going on. Everyone is fighting diabetes. The news headlines say so. Here are just a few of our brave soldiers risking their lives in the war against diabetes.
Red Wine Fights Diabetes
Glowing Mice Fight Diabetes
Pumpkins Fight Diabetes (READ MORE)

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Bottom line, my health and my fitness keep me sane. Everyday, literally everyday I look at my reflection and box, as I am walking through the apartment, or past the mirror in the bathroom. Sometimes outside, when I am working on something by my truck or some random reflection on a building, I’ll look at the reflection and practice my technique.

In the air, when I am doing the most basic of tasks, I find myself throwing my fists in the air at invincible targets. Sitting at my desk even. I move side to side, I jab, followed up with my crazy-strong right cross and my powerful hook and uppercut.

I knock them out.

Wap! Pow! Bang! Blast! ….. Got you’re *BLANK*! Mother *BLEEPER*!

Why am I fighting? Why the hate? Who am I fighting? Why am I like this? Is this healthy? Do I feel strong?

These are the questions I ask as I train. I think deep down I fight because of what I’ve been through, or what I go through. (READ MORE)

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I have found another one of my deep passions. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.
There are many things in this world that make me feel good: my girlfriend, being with my friends and family, going on long walks or hikes, building a nice fire and sitting around it feeling its warmth, traveling, joking around- basically you get the idea. I could continue to write down dozens of other things that make me feel good, but I'll spare you the time. Over the past couple of years, I have had one focus that especially makes me feel great, martial arts. I feel the main reason why I love kickboxing and jiu-jitsu is that I feel empowered. This is so important to me and my physical, spiritual, and mental health because getting diabetes at a young age took ALL of that away from me. (READ MORE)

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Diabetes is a very physical disease. It loves to leave behind marks to show it was there. The strange "tells," "war wounds," and "evidence" that this disease is wreaking havoc on my body both internally and externally.

 

The easiest sign of diabetes is the calluses on my fingertips. They've been my biggest complaint with this disease (physically at least) since I can remember. I hate the way they mar my fingers with their tiny spots and uneven edges. It never can be skin against skin, smooth and simple. When I run my hands over anything, I feel the tips of my fingers drop their tiny hints of this disease.

 

As if my fingertips weren't beaten enough, my body has all the signs of needles and insertions. I have bruises galore. Plus the tiny red spots from infusion sites and syringes. And every three months, there's the bruise of getting blood drawn on the crease of my arm.

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When you look at me, what do you see? Do you just see the physical girl standing in front of you? Or do the emotions, the spirituality, the thoughts creep through as well?

 

When I look in the mirror, I see that I'm tall for a girl. I see that I have my father's blue eyes and the Guerin nose. I also see that my mother's side of the family shows through with the curve of my hips. When I look at me, I see my family staring back at me. Each part of my body comes from the genetics behind me. The resemblance in facial structure to my middle brother...the same fair skin of my mom and oldest brother...the small wrists that are present in all three siblings.

 

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