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

I found some old blood work results from 2002 and was comparing them to my recent results. In 2002 I was a newlywed and had not had gestational diabetes yet. The only inkling I had of any blood sugar problems was a strong family history of type 2 diabetes and a diagnosis of hypoglycemia when I was 19.
My numbers are exponentially better today. Fasting sugar, cholesterol, triglycerides, HDL; you name it. This got me to thinking about my health and lifestyle today versus 5 years ago. I may be 5 years older but I should be feeling 10 years younger!
The biggest change, health-wise; is that I no longer smoke. 27 years of a pack plus a day are history. I have been smoke free for almost 22 months now, this alone would bring up my HDL levels. I remain very proud of this and it continues to remind me that I can change old ingrained habits. (READ MORE)

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November, 2012
I stopped over at Six Until Me and found all the windows boarded up and the rooms were littered with squatters. Tumbleweeds bounced across the yard. "Kerri who?" they said when I asked of her whereabouts.
Things sure have changed since Halle Berry cured diabetes five years ago. The online diabetes community has become a ghost town of inactive blogs and non-updated web sites. Though it's absolutely amazing to have a cure, the blogosphere frankly doesn't know what do with itself. Some have just vanished, never to be seen again. Some are still out there, staring vacuously at Google search screens, not knowing where to go, like long-time prisoners released back into society. Others have had a harder time moving on and have resurfaced under new management. (READ MORE)

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Now that the cold weather is here in full swing, getting out and about is as much a struggle of the mind against the elements as it is of the body. Part of it is a matter of peripheral circulation issues; part of it is a matter of equipment and gear. Since the Dolce is a lot more serious a vehicle than the old Excelle was, I need more "technical" apparel to ride it comfortably. In addition to my new headlight and a replacement helmet, my December purchases included a winter cycling jacket, hat and balaclava, a couple of long-sleeved jerseys, a second pair of tights, and some better-fitting shorts.

 

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Had he been awake, he probably wouldn’t have appreciated the pink straw in his mouth. But we were out of juice boxes and the box of straws had been picked clean of all its blues and greens.

 

Sounds are louder at 2 am. The trigger snap and pop of the pricker. My bare feet smacking the wood floor. My sloth-like descent down the stairs and the familiar creaks in the wood that groan under my weight.

 

I don’t need to tell you. You know.

 

His eyelids bend open just slightly and quiver like closed moth wings. His mouth opens on cue.

 

"Good, Charlie. Just a little more."

 

One eye opens and then closes.

 

While he drinks, I think about the news of the artificial pancreas. Everything is always four to five years away it seems. It’s not a cure, but it’s something.

 

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February 2010 marks my fifth anniversary with diabetes. I've been thinking about writing this post all month, though, clearly, I haven't found a way to write until the last day of the month.

 

I find that when I have an idea for a post -- say, a theme or a headline or just a quick idea -- but that I struggle writing it down it's usually because I just can't put my finger on the right words.

 

In five years I've been a lot of places with diabetes and learned a lot of things. I've had an A1C as high as 9 and as low as 5.9. I've lost 50 lb. and gained it back. I've been on oral drugs, I've taken Byetta and Symlin, I started on the pump. I had a beautiful baby.

 

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Last week, I started a new "game" with myself. I call it Five For Five. I focus on five healthy habits for five days, earning points as I go and working toward a reward. Each week, the points accumulate for an even bigger reward.
I'm proud to report that I earned 23 of a possible 25 points last week. My daily habits were drinking three liters of water, exercising for at least 30 minutes, doing 25 sit-ups, testing my blood sugar three out of four times and not eating any junk. I expected finding 30 minutes to exercise each day would be my biggest challenge, but it turns out that wasn't the case.
The two points I missed last week were for sit-ups. The first one, I'd gotten as far as 15 when the little boy started having a melt down next to me. I thought I'd get back to the other 10 in a little while, but the day got away from me and I forgot. Then on the last day of the game, I didn't do them at all. (READ MORE)

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"If you miss the train I'm on, you will know that I am gone..."

Unlike the melancholy wanderer in the Hedy West song, my cycling computer was at my right hand as I logged in yesterday's ride (to the doctor's office in one direction, then the supermarket in the opposite direction), and as I scrolled past the odometer, it read 512.4 (miles) -- which was approximately the distance I'd ridden since January first. Now, I'm nowhere fast enough to be part of someone's "lead-out train" at the end of a bicycle race -- much less fast enough to consider having others lead me out. Heck, I'm not even fast enough to consider racing the average ten-year-old (I think). But plugging away at it, bit by bit -- errand by errand -- group ride by group ride (OK, there've only been three of those so far, and during none have I been able to keep with the group) -- I've ridden over five hundred miles, this year alone.

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This month marks my fifth year of lancing my fingers, injecting or infusing insulin, monitoring carbs, and Having Type-1 Diabetes. In some ways it seems like longer but in others, it seems like this journey is just starting. That beginning trip to the emergency room is still clear in my mind. Mostly I remember the support and attention I got from family and friends, and the uncertainness of what the diagnosis meant. But here I am, through the ups and downs, after the successes and failures, in front of diligent times and moments of negligence, still happy and healthy with a life touched by diabetes.

 

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Sunday, 10:30 p.m.: I'd just finished eating some cottage cheese and fresh pineapple thinking I was too low to go to bed. I had been 116 mg/dL after dinner and was around 110 mg/dL at bedtime. I had taken off Dexcom Saturday morning because the edges of the tape were getting frayed and the internal sensor was actually poking me funny. I decided to have a weekend without the extra equipment. But as I went to bed, I was really wishing I could see a trend line, especially since my finger sticks all weekend had been mostly lower than I expected.

 

Monday, 5 a.m.: I tested prior to getting out of bed and was not happy to see 322 mg/dL. It's kind of hard at 5 a.m. to figure out why you're that high, but I tried. The only thing I could come up with was that I was too aggressive with my bedtime snack. Also, I had momentarily gone back to using my lower abdomen for an infusion site and I thought it was possible that my site had gone bad.

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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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