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Tonight my wife and I will be attending my company holiday party. Now, I will start by saying I am pretty excited about the party this year since we are having it at the
Queen Mary. I know my pocketbook would not normally allow for a night at a 5 start restaurant and then to also have a overnights stay in a legendary hotel aboard the ship is pretty exciting!
I am a little concerned about the indulging I will be doing this night. Like most guys, the term "open bar" is more like an "all you can drink challenge" especially if I know I do not have to drive anywhere. I hate what
alcohol does to by blood sugar level.
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Tonight my wife and I will be attending my company holiday party. Now, I will start by saying I am pretty excited about the party this year since we are having it at the
Queen Mary. I know my pocketbook would not normally allow for a night at a 5 start restaurant and then to also have a overnights stay in a legendary hotel aboard the ship is pretty exciting!
I am a little concerned about the indulging I will be doing this night. Like most guys, the term "open bar" is more like an "all you can drink challenge" especially if I know I do not have to drive anywhere. I hate what
alcohol does to by blood sugar level.
(READ MORE)
Diabetes is sometimes the best way to get out of things. It really can be an easy excuse in times of "emergency (parties, dates, movie hunger)."
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I took Charlie to a party on Saturday. It was in a large, old church hall with high wooden rafters and lots of wide-open space. When we opened the door, Charlie sprinted like a racehorse out of the gate, joining his friends who were busy whipping rubber balls at each other's heads at high velocity.
We had already discussed that we were going to pass on the pizza and Charlie was cool with that. Although many college students (and my high school humanities teacher) would be of a different opinion, Charlie does not like being high all night.
Charlie has an interesting way of describing things. He tends to invent his own words that end in "er." For example, for a party like this one, he would typically wonder if there was going to be a "jumper" there. Translation - a trampoline.
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"This," I said to my mom while pointing to the table full of mid-afternoon party food, "is exactly the kind of situation where I would really
benefit from having a pump."
We were in my brother's dining room at his daughter's first-birthday party. The spread included crackers with an amazing cream cheese and pesto dip, mini chicken salad croissant sandwiches, fresh fruit, potato chips and dip and fresh veggies. To the untrained eye, there wasn't much that I should have stayed away from, but in reality there was just about nothing that didn't require insulin.
Mom looked a little confused. "But you'd still have to count carbs," she said.
"Well, yeah, of course," I said. "But that's not really the reason the pump would be so beneficial. I could eat and not have to excuse myself to take a shot."
She nodded in understanding.
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"This," I said to my mom while pointing to the table full of mid-afternoon party food, "is exactly the kind of situation where I would really
benefit from having a pump."
We were in my brother's dining room at his daughter's first-birthday party. The spread included crackers with an amazing cream cheese and pesto dip, mini chicken salad croissant sandwiches, fresh fruit, potato chips and dip and fresh veggies. To the untrained eye, there wasn't much that I should have stayed away from, but in reality there was just about nothing that didn't require insulin.
Mom looked a little confused. "But you'd still have to count carbs," she said.
"Well, yeah, of course," I said. "But that's not really the reason the pump would be so beneficial. I could eat and not have to excuse myself to take a shot."
She nodded in understanding.
(READ MORE)
I can't post all the photos here, but if you go over to my other blog,
Major Bedhead, you can see the ridiculous post I put up in honour of Olivia's 13th birthday.
I often grimace when thinking about having another teenager in the house, but so far, Olivia's been a great kid. Yes, she's moody and listens to FAAAAAR too much Hannah freakin' Montana, but all in all, she's fantastic.
She lives with diabetes rolled into her life and is amazingly well-adjusted about it. She just rolls along with it and amazes me nearly every day. She doesn't seem to have pity parties, she doesn't complain that it's unfair (and if she did, I'd certainly feel like she'd be entitled to feel that way), she just does it. Sometimes she'll roll her eyes or sigh when it's time to do a site change, but 97% of the time, she's OK with it.
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Christmas means joy. Christmas means tales of sugar plums dancing in children's heads. Christmas means Christmas dresses.
This past holiday was my first pumping Christmas, which meant learning how to "graze" and square bolus at all the parties, how to watch for trends from "holiday stress" and how to buy a Christmas dress fit for a pump.
Typically, finding a dress is hard enough. I'll try on one hundred to find one. Some are too fancy, some are the wrong color, some are just ugh! But never has one been unfit for a pump. Until this Christmas.
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It was 18 years ago today that I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.
I was a senior in high school, had lots of friends, a steady girlfriend, was drum major of our band, and was always on the go. I had recently lost a bunch of weight which I attributed to my fast paced life of practices, dates, parties, and other stuff. I dropped 60 pounds with no effort at all. Since I had always been overweight I was pretty excited.
Night after night I would go to bed with a giant cup of water next to my bed that I would continue to drink all night as I woke up in between to go to the bathroom. I had to go to the bathroom all day long but that was only because I drank a lot. No biggie.
Well, now I can look back and see what my body was telling me.
One night at Drum rehearsal my band director asked me if I felt okay. I felt a little dizzy but had almost grown accustomed to it so I told him I felt fine.
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The funniest part of Charlie's Edward Scissorhands costume was watching him struggle to grab treats out of candy bowls with his useless scissor hands while trick-or-treating. It was like watching a child use chopsticks. Eventually he had to ask the homeowner to just drop it in his bag for him.
Some called this cruel. Especially when he dropped a Kit-Kat on a neighbor's front porch and then clawed away at it unsuccessfully for 45 seconds like a crab while we watched and giggled from the sidewalk.
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