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How often do you worry about diabetes complications?

May 24th, 2012
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Why is it that I can remain much calmer than those around me when it comes to diabetes? I can manage a low with ease, while my mom or my friend will freak out on me. No matter the severity, the past, or the person, it just seems I can keep composure better than them.

 

Last night, my mom and I went out for our usual walk. I had worked out earlier in the day, so I knew my blood sugar would probably be an issue. I cut my insulin back and drank a juice half way through the walk. Not long after, I felt the low coming on full force. It was bad, I knew that. Inside my own mind, I was thinking that I just needed to make it around the next part of the walk so we would be closer to the house.

 

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At 10 p.m. I lie in bed wondering if I was ever going to fall asleep. The Mr. had gone to bed an hour ago after a long day. His breathing was soft and soothing. I thought about turning on the news or reading on the computer.

 

At 12:10 a.m. I woke up in a fog. I couldn't tell if I was dreaming. I was lethargic and nauseated. I was so sweaty that I was sticking to the sheets. Luna, a tea cup chihuahua, was tangled in my feet as I tried to get out from under the sheets.

 

Panic began to set in. I knew I was low, but what seemed like hours passed before I had enough energy and mental powers to pull myself up to test.

 

I turned on my light and reached delicately for my meter. I was shaking badly and still horribly hot. Something woke The Mr.

 

"Are you OK?" he asked.

 

"I'm low."

 

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Last Thursday was opening night for Godspell.


Our church has never done a musical before so being a part of it was special. I auditioned back in February and was hoping to get the John the Baptist role. In fact, I had been practicing that characters parts months before auditions.


My pastor (and director) felt that I should have another part. The lead. Jesus.


I was not excited at first. In fact, I was quite nervous and thought that I should be the LAST person to play Jesus. I am definitely not worthy but my pastor saw something I didn’t.

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I wanted to recognize someone who deserves credit for the amazing thing they did. This person (we'll call him Joe) performed an incredible task without even considering the consequences. Unfortunately, not many people realize the extent of Joe's actions. They carry on with their daily lives and never think twice about what Joe did. But for me, Joe is a hero. (READ MORE)


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Last night I started up a conversation with my wife that I have never had before.
 
 
"I just read on this blog about a woman who's husband becomes verbally abusive to her when he is low and then doesn't remember anything come morning. Do I ever do that?" I did not get the response I was expecting.
 
 
She said, "Well sometimes you can be mean."
 
 
"What!?!" Really!?!"
 
 
"More sarcastic I guess. You can be short and sarcastic." This made sense to me.
 
 
I know that when I am low I cannot think at all. When I am really low and my wife asks me if I want orange juice or a sandwich I get frustrated because my brain can only handle yes or no type questions. Thinking does not occur properly.
 
 
"I know the reason why I get like that. (READ MORE)


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The diabetes bag is relatively light but it weighs heavy upon us. We panic when we lose sight of it like it's one of our children lost in a food store. It is soft and black with pictures of rockets on it. It contains about 13 alcohol wipes, a meter with a blurry screen, two vials of test strips, a white pricker with a tiny burgundy blood stain on the tip, about a dozen light-blue lancets, a tube of cake gel, Glucagon, two 15-carb apple juice boxes, a granola bar, a bag of Goldfish crackers and a pair of my black underwear???
Ben Patrick Potash!!!!!!!!! (READ MORE)


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I knew he was high when I walked in the door;


His body was twitching, there was nary a snore.


His complexion was rosy, his hair dampened black;


I knew he was high before the pricker went "clack!"


The horrible number stayed like a tattoo,


Spitefully showcasing 392.


With insulin active, we gave it an hour


And whispered a prayer to a higher power.


I awoke from a dream that Obama had won


When Susanne said, "Carey! He's 421!"


I stumbled to his bedside, my wits on the fringe;


Susanne poured juice and loaded a syringe.


I pinched some plump flesh on the back of his arm,


Inserted the needle, then set my alarm.


2:30 am - I walked through a fog,

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Imagine it's the end of the world.

 

There's a flu pandemic. Or The Plague. Or the sun is burning a hole in the atmosphere and we all have to be herded into caves. There's mass panic and people need medical treatment.

 

Imagine having to decide who is worth saving and who isn't. That was the task of an "influential group of physicians" who drew up a "grim" list of patients who simply wouldn't be treated, according to this story.

 

The idea is to try to make sure that scarce resources--including ventilators, medicine and doctors and nurses--are used in a uniform, objective way, task force members said.

 

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When it comes to high blood sugar, I tend to think there are two different types. Those unfair, random ones that leave you guessing what happened. And the other ones, the ones you deserve.

 

Last night, I had a high that I deserved. Without a doubt, I deserved it.

 

In preparation for the next pregnancy (the thought of which leaves me in alternating states of excitement and sheer panic), my blood sugar goals are tight: 80 to 120. Pretty sure I'm not pregnant yet, I won't freak out if I'm 130 or 140 or even 150. But when I hit 200 last night, I knew I had to correct it.

 

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Now that I no longer have to fret about my diabetes, I have a new worry: What if I gave it to my son?

 

I have to assume that is a pretty common worry among mothers (and fathers) with diabetes. Did my son inherit my faulty diabetes gene along with my ticklish feet?

 

On the Diabetic Mommy support group I belong to, it is very common for moms to start freaking out that their child may have diabetes. He's drinking too much, he's peeing too much, he falls asleep after meals, etc. With these worries, a mom will then test her child, usually at the exact wrong moment, like when he has juice all over his fingers or just ate a big bowl of cornflakes, to get a higher than normal reading. Usually anything over 100 will do a sufficient job of bringing a diabetic mom to a full panic. 

 

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Michelle Kowalski
Michelle KowalskiMichelle Kowalski, a writer, editor and photography hobbiest living in Phoenix, was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes in February 2005. In January 2008, as part of her quest to start on an insulin pump, Michelle learned that she actually has type 1 diabetes. (Read More)
Lindsey Guerin
Lindsey GuerinLindsey is a typical, yet unique, Texas girl who loves shopping, movies and reading. She loves to travel and take risks. She dreams of diabetes cures, never-ending cheesecake and her own airplane. The rest you can discover in her blog! (Read More)
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