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

I don't think I've ever hidden my diabetes from anyone in my life. In fact, shortly after I got the call that I was pre-diabetic I was standing in my boss's office telling her.
I've never hidden it in public, either. When I was pregnant with No. 3, a friend of mine and I went to a restaurant for lunch. We were at a restaurant/bar type of place and sitting pretty much in the back. I think there was another table of people around us, but, frankly, they weren't paying attention to us. And why should they? We ordered, I checked my sugar and then prepared to shoot up. Now, this was several years ago, but I distinctly remember her saying, "Are you going to just do that here?"
With the pen needle cap in the corner of my mouth and the skin on my right love handle pinched, I said, "Yea-uh. It's not like anyone can see me." I would have done it right there even if someone was watching. (READ MORE)

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It's been a week and I haven't said anything to my coworkers about diabetes. Not even to either of my bosses. I'm not hiding it either. I really thought that on my first day people would be pointing and staring and asking about my pump, which I decided to wear on my belt as usual.

 

But nothing. I was surprised, actually. On day two or three, I was introduced to two people who I will work closely with in the future, one of whom noticed that something was on my belt, but she couldn't really figure out what it was. A cell phone? An iPod? she wondered aloud.

 

"It's an insulin pump," I said matter of factly.

 

"A what?"

 

"An insulin pump," I said.

 

"Oh."

 

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I debated where to wear Toohey today: in my pocket (out of sight) or on my belt as I always do. Prior to this morning, I had been to my new office three times: twice for interviews and once to sign my offer letter.* All three times Toohey was tucked neatly in my pocket, no tubing was visible, I was a normal-looking person.

 

So I debated for several days and ultimately decided not to hide, to wear Toohey on my belt as always, to be myself. I decided though to not come out and say "Hey, I have diabetes" on my first day. I just wanted it to flow, to just happen naturally. I really thought I would have had some questions since Toohey was so visible.

 

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As I was driving home from my dad's last night, Olivia and I started talking about her dad. He's not exactly a role model-type guy and they've had a very rocky relationship for the last two plus years.

The conversation started off discussing my concerns about The Bug and Olivia commented that she didn't think the other girls could get diabetes since it didn't run in the family. I said that we didn't know that, given that her father's side of the family has an obsession with hiding the facts. After a brief discussion of her grandfather's parentage and the fact that most of his family, and her grandmother's, for that matter, were still in Ireland, she told me that a comment her dad made years ago had stuck with her for a long time.
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Waiting.

 

Waiting for his blood sugar to come down.

 

Waiting for his blood sugar to come up.

 

Waiting for the school to call with his numbers.

 

Waiting for him to come out of hiding so we can get this damn thing over with.

 

Waiting for the bruises to heal.

 

Waiting for science.

 

Waiting for his A1c result.

 

Waiting for good news.

 

Waiting for ketones to go away.

 

Waiting for his test strips to be delivered.

 

Waiting for technology to improve.

 

Waiting for restrictions to be lifted.

 

Waiting for people to understand.

 

Waiting for him to get older.

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I think I may have misspoken when I told you in my post about Sonia Sotomayer that I "hid" my diabetes in my last two job interviews. What I meant was that I put my pump in my pocket instead of wearing it on my pants pocket like I usually do.

 

But one commenter brought up a good point. That literally hiding a part of a person's life that can affect their performance on the job is definitely wrong. There is definitely room for interpretation on this. For example: how much differently is a pilot affected by blood sugar versus an ER physician versus a fast food worker versus an editor? Sure, there's a big difference and the people around them are affected also in different ways.

 

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A week ago I was all prepared to write a post about how I was ready to lose weight. I was tired of my muffin top and of my clothes being too tight. And I fear this summer's trip to the beach in a bathing suit.
That was a week ago. A week ago, when I was ready to dig my workout clothes out from their hiding places. A week ago, when I was ready to shun fast food and treats. It's amazing what a week can do. (READ MORE)

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>: What is it that you're most afraid of?

 

<: I don't know doc. I guess it's the unknown. You know. The unexpected. The terrible. The monster hiding under the bed. I can call you doc, right?

 

>: Sure. I guess. If you want to.

 

<: Thanks doc.

 

>: Let's just say you went through with it. What's the worst that will happen?

 

<: Well, we'd be in for a long night. That's for sure.

 

>: So, it's him that you're worried about or are you more concerned about yourself? I'm just trying to understand.

 

<: Well, no, it's him. Of course it's him. I mean sure, it's us too. It's exhausting, these sorts of nights.

 

>: So we're talking about potentially one rough night?

 

<: Right, but ...

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I see kids at the pool sucking on ringpops.

I smell the insulin.

I touch the tiny holes in his wet fingers.

I hear the ripping of tape on skin.

I see a spot of old blood on his underwear.

I smell the alcohol wipe.

I touch his hips in search of buttons.

I hear the air being drained from a juice box.

I see you hiding behind the couch, Charlie.

I smell a temper tantrum coming.

I touch his head when it's over.

I hear him beeping.

I see his sister hiding licorice in her hands. "Shhh! Don’t tell Charlie."

I smell trouble.

I hear this on my voicemail:

 

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Some days, I feel like I am in a war against my body.  The body zigs, I zag.  It comes with a sword, slashing at the order I'm trying to create and I succumb to its chaos, slashing right back.   It lays in wait, in a foxhole in a ditch, I get comfortable with its hiding and then it blitzes - ambush. 

 

I've been dealing with overnight lows of late again.  In spite of major basal rate adjustments, diabetes (and in my mind, my own body) keeps charging at me like a bull.  

 

I've realized of late that waging war against my body is probably not at all the best course of action.  Maybe this is a realization that I have on an occasional basis, and then forget (as people sometimes do) when I'm in the thick of a particularly difficult diabetes time.  

 

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