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Is it any wonder that insulin is so difficult to manage?  It is, after all, a young drug, and one that has seen rapid and extraordinary changes in formulation and delivery in the ninety years since discovery. 

 

Many vaccines, antibiotics, antiseptics, antihistamines, and anesthetics were invented in the 300 years before insulin first made its appearance on the scene.  People were flying, driving cars, listening to radios, riding escalators, vacuuming their carpets, talking on telephones, and enjoying air conditioners before the invention of insulin.  

 

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Valentine's Day isn't a big deal to me. It never really has been. I fall into the category of those who believe that it's overdone and mainly an economic endeavor for Hallmark. Oddly, I'm a total romantic/sentamentalist at heart.

 

I just don't see the point in this one holiday to show my appreciation and love for someone. Especially with candy, heart balloons, and kiddy cards. I'll take the flowers though. And a good date idea.

 

My definition of a good date varies by my mood. My all time favorite date is dinner and a movie. I absolutely love to go to the movies. There's something extraordinary about sitting in front of the cinema screen watching an enchanting story play out before my eyes. I leave all stress at the theater door. I feel like I'm part of the story.

 

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I received a comment on my post from yesterday that really struck a chord with me. The reader commented that their parents had died from diabetes and that they would die from it too.

 

When I read that I got choked up because honestly, I feel the same way.

 

Sure I plan on fighting the fight and checking my blood as often as I am supposed to. Of course I will continue to work on my A1C and losing weight. I am not giving up on life at all. But, in the back of my mind I “know” that diabetes is going to win in the end.

 

Will it be heart disease, kidney failure, or a stroke? Maybe something else. Who knows?

 

The fact is that with all the steps I take to live healthy the odds are against me. Diabetes has the upper hand which makes me sad and angry at the same time.

 

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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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I've swallowed my pride and decided to apply for disability services here at school. They can offer me a few resources that I do not have access to otherwise. Most importantly, they give me the ability to register early for class and to notify my professor's that there is a legitimate health issue that I deal with.

 

The past two semesters, I've considered doing it, but I've also thought it was too embarrassing. But finally, things have gotten to the point where I'm realizing that it's not embarrassing, it's reality. So I've taken the initial steps to go through with it.

 

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Since I'm right in the middle of my "dating prime," dating is on my mind. Of course, there is the typical stuff about meeting new guys and just trying to be myself while catching their attention. Then there is the serious side of me that wonders about the long term situations and all that entails. To top it off (like a cherry on a sundae), there is dating and diabetes.
I'm usually okay with dating and diabetes. I don't hide it, but I don't flaunt it. I always take a survey of the situation before throwing diabetes into the mix. I don't really have a problem telling dates about my diabetes. It's something that is completely a part of me and therefore, something they must completely accept. (READ MORE)

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So anyway, picking up where we last left ,
After Susanne gave the hairy-faced tailgater the finger, we managed to make it to the wrong lab fifteen minutes after the time of our wrong appointment. Unfortunately, I suffer from the same reading comprehension issues that I did when I was in the third grade. I was just waiting for the receptionist to write in red marker, "Carey has trouble following direction," with a little sad face on the top-right corner of my paperwork.
The lab instructions I held in my hand very clearly displayed the correct name of the lab in big, bold letterhead.
We did eventually make it to the correct lab.
Maeve and Ben were being screened as part of the University of Florida's PANDA Study to see if the insulin-producing cells in their pancreas' are being destroyed. (READ MORE)

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Turning 21 has been the biggest birthday that I've had in quite awhile. I've been celebrating for the past three days with family and friends. For a birthday that really doesn't mean much to me. Yet somehow, I've turned it into a major event.

 

Being 21 feels better, just because it feels less like I'm still a kid and more like I'm an adult. Telling people I'm 21 instead of 20 will definitely be nice, I'm sure. But otherwise, this birthday and those numbers don't mean much to me.

 

Because I've generally decided that I won't drink. So being legal for alcohol isn't that exciting. (However, being legal for Las Vegas casinos is!)

 

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Ring around a rosy, a pocket full of posies...

 

By the time we reach adulthood, most of us know that the seemingly-nonsensical nursery rhymes of youth were sharp political snipes and sarcastic observations at the time of their composition. We know, for example, that the "ring" or "rosy" was the distinct buboe of bubonic plague, that it was believed that carrying around fresh flowers would help ward off the Plague, that the belongings of a Plague victim would be burned to try to limit the spread of the disease, and that all too many people had succumbed -- and would succumb -- to its horrors.

 

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Olivia has a chronic issue of forgetting to bolus for meals. She regularly spikes up after breakfast because she forgets to give insulin. I'm not always up when she's eating, so I forget to remind her.

I went thru her pump history yesterday and it looks like she only took two boluses all day, one at 10 a.m. and one around 3 p.m.. She claims she put in her blood sugars and bolused, but none of that information is showing up on the pump. When I went thru her meter, it showed that she'd tested way more than twice yesterday. I don't understand why it's not showing up in the bolus history, though. I don't even know if that's possible and given her history of forgetting to bolus, I'm questioning the broken pump theory.
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