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

A new study in the JAMA indicates that omega-3 fatty acid supplements may keep at-risk kids from developing type 1 diabetes. The study found that kids who did eat fish, nuts or other sources of omega-3 fatty acids had a 55% less chance of developing diabetes. (I linked to the National Review of Medicine site because JAMA charges you a $15 fee to view their articles. Ouch.)

Sometimes I'm not sure what to think about these studies. Olivia was diagnosed when she was not quite three years old, so I suppose I could have given her Omega-3 supplements. I guess I'll have to figure out how to incorporate them into the two little girls' diets - I don't know that they'll eat fish and that's an expensive food to waste if they don't like it. Plus the whole mercury thing...honestly, some days I wonder if anything is safe to eat any more.
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With a few weeks to go still until the baby gets here, I feel like I'm really starting to get some parts of motherhood down. Particularly the worry part.
I worry when my blood sugar is high, I worry if it's low. I worry if he's not moving around much and if he's moving around too much, I worry that he'll be a hyperactive little boy and I won't be able to handle it.
In addition to the concerns surrounding the effect my diabetes could have on the baby, I encounter the regular mommy worries, too. I want him to be healthy and happy. And to grow up to make a difference in this crazy world.
But like many of my diabetic mommy friends, one thing I worry about most is passing diabetes on to my child. Sure, there are a lot worse things that could happen to him out in the world, but living with diabetes day in and day out is something I'd rather not have for my son. (READ MORE)

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I just said the other day that I would not make New Year's resolutions this year. But I find myself thinking about them a lot yesterday and today.
I think some of it is caused by the holidays ending and needing a psychological substitute. I know for me, cleaning up the mess and packing away the holiday decorations leaves the house feeling like a clean slate. (READ MORE)

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"I'll have the catfish plate and a small soda please." The corner Mediterranean grocery/restaurant, Vine Ripe Market, always has great food. From gyro and skewered chicken to trout, tilapia, catfish, salmon, shrimp, lamb,all the yummy stuff you can't find at the local burger house.
The bubbly girl at the counter asks, "What kind of drink would you like?" I tell her I will have a diet soda. "Really!?" was the following shocked statement from her lips.
I guess she was expecting the usual call for Pepsi or some other flavored soda. I didn't know what to say. The possibility of explaining about my diabetes flashed into my head, or if I should just play it off as normal. It was a simple interaction, but it weighted on me for several minutes after. Did I react the right way? Should I have explained to her why I chose diet? Was it any of her business? Maybe next time I'll just roll with it and make light of my love for sugar-free drinks. (READ MORE)

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It's ironic that even the most obscure things we hope for can come true. I can't tell you how many times I've thought to myself how much easier it would be to lose weight (or manage my blood sugar) if I could just completely lose the desire to eat or if I could feel just a bit queesy all the time to discourage my mindless eating habits.
In contrast, I can't tell you how many times yesterday I said, "I'm not taking that damn medicine anymore." (READ MORE)

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It is dark. Black, really. There is no light anywhere. And there is no sound. There is nothing. Nothing but nothing.
This stunning blackness, this lack of light and sound, scares me concious. And I am in my bed. With an empty glass of juice in my hand. My right index finger slides, slimey, against the plastic cup, wet with blood.
Nothing makes sense. Bob's voice is the first thing I'm able to hear. "You need to test."
"I already tested," I answer, "Can't you see the blood?"
"You poked yourself, but you didn't test," He replies, "Come on, it's been about twenty minutes since you finished that juice."
"Was it bad?" I ask.
"Not as bad as it's been. You took the juice fine, no spitting, no screaming, no fighting. It was scary though, because you didn't say a word. It was like you were asleep with your eyes wide open." (READ MORE)

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I was discussing diet with a friend of mine last weekend. We were talking about her mother, who is borderline type 2. I asked if her mother was watching her carbs and she said yes, that her mother had cut out almost all carbohydrates, but her blood sugars were still fluctuating all over the place.

When I asked what she was eating, my friend responded with "Chicken, fish, lots of fruit and yoghurt." I just kind of goggled at her. "Fruit? And yoghurt? Those have carbs in them, you know."
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I was at work, walking toward the cafeteria when Bert grabbed me. I play soccer with Bert. He was shaking and moving in clumsy circles and clearly disoriented. I immediately got out my testing supplies and checked his blood sugar. I snapped the pricker against his finger and blood drops spilled out continuously like a leaky faucet. When I saw the 7 on the meter screen, my heart stopped beating for a moment. I had never seen single digits. I sat Bert down in a chair and screamed for help. "I need juice! (READ MORE)

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Charlie's classmates grilled me and they grilled me good. After reading the book about diabetes, I was besieged with questions. I was amazed. Adults don't ask such good questions.

A lot of the questions were about the pump:

What happens if you lose the pump? What are all those buttons for? What do you do with the pump when you go to the beach? How long can he stay off the pump?

Charlie stood up beside me and demonstrated the pump like a flight attendant.

Batteries for the pump became the hottest topic of the day:

How do you know if the batteries are low? What do you do if he needs new batteries? How do you change the batteries? Where do you get batteries?

"Dudes, they're just triple As. You can get those just about anywhere."

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I am sitting at the dining room table. Two pieces of cake sit in front of me, in the glass cake holder my mother bought for me. They look amazing, those slabs of cake, with their white frosting and their devil's food cake-i-ness poking through. I stab at the grilled chicken salad with peppers and onions and slivers of carrots on my plate. The salad, which just a few moments earlier had looked so delicious. Now it just seemed pale and loose and green in the shadow of the cake. In the shadow of the devil.
I say, out loud, "Well, just one piece can't be too bad. I mean, I have just had this salad for dinner. And I've barely touched it." (READ MORE)

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