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This is a bit of a rant. I get on this horse periodically, ride it around, waving my flags and guns, foaming at the mouth a bit, going slightly nutty. You'll get used to it. Or ignore it.

What is the deal with lumping both types of diabetes together? Seriously. If I have to read one more freakin' article about how high fructose corn syrup causes diabetes or get one more stupid email from some clueless acquaintance, telling me that if I just put my kid on the Atkins diet, she'll be cured, I'm going to go to the top of the water tower and start picking people off. OK, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but holy cow, does it make my blood boil.
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A pilot in Denton, Texas, made an emergency landing near a freeway yesterday because he felt lightheaded. Only one media source stated he was diabetic. Yet the article made every major newspaper in the area.

 

Thursday, I drove down the highway in rush hour traffic digging through my bag and eating everything I had with me. As I stuffed the glucose tabs into my mouth, I sat wondering about my fellow drivers. Were any of them diabetic? Had they driven this low before? Would they be mad because I was driving low (granted we didn't reach speeds above 15 mph)?

 

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As Type 2 diabetics, we're often told that the best thing we can do for ourselves is lose weight. And that's undeniably true. But no one tells you ahead of time how weird that process can be.
Now, I write about my own weight struggle a lot, so perhaps it's time for me to own up to some actual numbers. I'm not an "alert the media" level fat guy. When I was diagnosed with diabetes almost two years ago, I went on a panic-and-phentermine-fuled weight loss frenzy, and I lost about thirty pounds. At 6'2", I got down to about 205 pounds. So not Jude Law, but not Jabba the Hutt, either.
This was quite a difference from the worst of my college days, when I weighed (and I can't believe this, even as I type it) about 280 pounds. I was a mess, a big sloppy boozy lummox. I'd managed to lose about thirty of those pounds before I was even diagnosed, because let's face it, Dean Wormer in Animal House was right. "Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son." (READ MORE)

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As Type 2 diabetics, we're often told that the best thing we can do for ourselves is lose weight. And that's undeniably true. But no one tells you ahead of time how weird that process can be.
Now, I write about my own weight struggle a lot, so perhaps it's time for me to own up to some actual numbers. I'm not an "alert the media" level fat guy. When I was diagnosed with diabetes almost two years ago, I went on a panic-and-phentermine-fuled weight loss frenzy, and I lost about thirty pounds. At 6'2", I got down to about 205 pounds. So not Jude Law, but not Jabba the Hutt, either.
This was quite a difference from the worst of my college days, when I weighed (and I can't believe this, even as I type it) about 280 pounds. I was a mess, a big sloppy boozy lummox. I'd managed to lose about thirty of those pounds before I was even diagnosed, because let's face it, Dean Wormer in Animal House was right. "Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son." (READ MORE)

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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me. (READ MORE)

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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me. (READ MORE)

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I got a link to an article from ABC News today about Halle Berry. I was encouraged to see that doctors are equally concerned with her claims that she's cured herself of type 1 diabetes.

"Diabetics quickly took to the blogosphere to condemn Berry for claiming that a change in diet could cure Type 1 diabetes, an autoimmune disease in which the pancreas permanently fails to produce insulin, the vital hormone that regulates sugar levels in the blood."
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You may remember Richard Jewell, wrongfully accused of the '96 Atlanta Olympics bombing and basically convicted by the media for some time before Eric Rudolph was accused. He has died at 44. Jewell was diagnosed earlier this year with diabetes, already had had toes amputated and was on dialysis. Given his age, I assume it was a Type 2 diagnosis. How bad did it have to be to have already lost toes to this disease? And then to die the same year as diagnosis? I am his age and reading this first thing today really brought home the seriousness of my condition. (READ MORE)

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According to the dLife style guide my editor sent me, "diabetic" is used as an adjective for describing conditions, supplies, and other things related to the disease. It is not used describe a person.
Yes, it's really underlined in the style guide-that's how serious my editor is about it! The preferred term is "person with diabetes" or "living with diabetes." Never use the term "diabetes sufferers."
As a writer who has spent the past decade working in print media, where word counts are the law of the land, I haven't been able to grasp the concept of using three words in place of one. (READ MORE)

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As a member of the media, you might think that I would get riled up about news stories all the time. Strangely, though, I don't find that to be true. So I guess it's no surprise that when I do get moved by a story, I get really moved.
There's not often much information in the e-newsletter from Diabetes Health magazine that pertains to me, but I look forward to reading it nonetheless. I usually scan the headlines and teasers, and maybe read a story or two. I sometimes forward it on to my mom and two aunts who help their 90-year-old type 2 mom with her diabetes management.
Today's newsletter, though, had a story that I read several times. The headline, Psychologically Dependent Type 2s Use Too Many Test Strips?, intrigued me; the story, on the other hand, made the fire rage. (READ MORE)

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