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

Prior to the birth of my son, I'd never been in the hospital before. I know the nurses have experience treating diabetes, but I was still worried about how my blood sugar would be managed.
Every diabetic reacts differently to the same situations. And living with the disease day in and day out for a few years-and managing to keep my a1c under 6 the whole time-really makes me an expert in what works for me and what doesn't.
What doesn't work for me is white flour, white rice, white potatoes, sugar or corn syrup. What does work is lean protein, healthy fats, whole grains, vegetables and fresh fruit, and, most importantly, food combining. (READ MORE)

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Where to even start...?

 

And that is the point, you don't know where.

 

When someone is newly diagnosed with diabetes, where should their educational journey begin? Sure, there is the inevitable hospital stay, and the chat with a doctor, and possibly a self-injection tutorial (for the insulin requiring crowd), but what is the next step... after the hospital scene?

 

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Ever since I can remember, I've been a dreamer. Not only do I get lost in vivid day dreams, but my subconscious takes over in the darkness of night with raging images. Over the years, I've come to realize that I have a history of especially strange dreams.

 

They are a mix of nightmares, unrealistic events, and practical moments. I've had some that were premonitions, predicting coming events. Others were so far out of the box that I don't expect anything to resemble them in real life.

 

But the one thing that my mind usually keeps out of my dreams is diabetes and pain. No nightmare has ever involved diabetes complications, seizures, or even diabetes moments. It's so ingrained in my daily life that my brain doesn't find the need to remind me of it in my sleep.

 

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It has been three years, seven months, and fourteen days since I was first sitting on that powder keg in the emergency room. I sat with my parents as my blood sugar was checked for the first time and the diagnosis was made. As plain as day, the doctor said the string of words I had never known before that time, type-1 diabetes. (READ MORE)

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Charlie was diagnosed with diabetes four years ago today.
Charlie never was a good sleeper. So when his twenty-minute naps changed to two-hour naps in the late summer of 2003, we saw it as a godsend. By September and into early October, we had to wake him from naps approaching three hours.
Suddenly he lost interest in eating. Susanne thought he surely had some sort of stomach virus brewing. But he never got sick.
Soon after, his appetite for fluids increased greatly as he voraciously guzzled tall glasses of milk and clawed at the refrigerator for more. It was never enough. This was followed by Charlie often waking up in the middle of the night drenched in urine from neckline to toe. I can remember Susanne constantly changing the sheets in the crib. (READ MORE)

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Part 2 of a 4 part series. See part 1.

On the way to the hospital, my husband commented that he didn't think this was really it. I wasn't curled up in a ball crying or cursing him out. Nothing like what he had seen on TV or heard about from his friends. It couldn't be the real deal. I wanted to choke him, but he was right.
As soon as we got to the hospital, the contractions stopped.
My blood pressure, however, was another story. It started climbing and continued to climb throughout the morning. Since women with diabetes are more likely to develop pre-eclampsia, the doctor ordered a 24-hour urine collection to check for protein. That meant spending the night in the hospital for observation. (READ MORE)

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Dec. 5, 2005, was a frigid day in Missouri. I wrote in my journal that day that it did not get out of the teens all day. It was one of those days where the snot inside your nose freezes the second you walk outside.

 

The Mr. and I were driving to the hospital at 5 a.m. that day. A 45-minute drive to the closest bigger city where my OB, perinatologist and certified diabetes educator were located. Three years ago today I was being induced with No. 3 at 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant.
 

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My mother had diabetes the last 20 years of her life. She was insulin-dependent but she wasn't Type 1 or Type 2. Mom had acute pancreatitis throughout the early '70s and had 90% of her pancreas removed just after the Blizzard of '77 in Buffalo. There was later some speculation that she had some beta cells left or some regenerated because Mom would have horrendous blood sugar swings seemingly out of nowhere.
I remember once going to a mall in a big city 2 hours from home a couple years after the surgery and ending up having an ambulance called for her. Mom kept eating sugar packets thinking she was low, and kept getting worse and worse. As I remember it, when she got to the hospital she was extremely high. (READ MORE)

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CP: I'm here with lumberjack, one-time monopoly champion, brother-in-law extraordinaire and a downright handsome speciman of a man, Patrick Mauceri. Thanks for joining us today.
 

PM: Hey C-dog.  No problem. Thanks for having me.  Monopoly champ?

CP: Ignore me.
 

CP: Interesting place you chose to meet me at today. So I just put my coins in here and the little peephole opens up? Do people with diabetes frequent this sort of place often?

PM: Well it's our little speakeasy. Only instead of bootlegged whiskey, they serve expensive juice boxes and orange slices. Can I buy you a drink?

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I must admit -- with a bit of a blush -- that I'm very irresponsible when it comes to disposing of sharps and used pump supplies.

 

There was a time when I put every sharp in a medical waste container and The Mr. would dispose of it at the hospital for me. That was mostly pre-diabetes, though. That's when I was taking shots of blood thinners when I was pregnant.

 

For some reason, it became easier to drop the insulin needles in the bathroom trashcan than to find a sharps container. I frequently put "Get Sharps Container" on my to-do list, but it never got done. I never seemed as worried about the lancets, although I think they are still considered sharps.

 

In our new neighborhood, the city offers a free recycling program. And, get this, you don't have to sort anything! Just put all your recyclables in a big trashcan and the city picks it up once a week.

 

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