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

You've probably heard the phrase "seagull manager." A boss who comes in, craps all over the place, makes a big mess and then leaves. A recent blog post of mine seems to have brought in a seagull commenter. And, frankly, I'm quite angry about it.

The commenter accused me of being "selfish and neglectful and not a very good mother." That his/her "...biggest problem is that you complain about what an inconvenience it is for YOU." That I am "uninterested in Olivia's health." And finally, that I "didn't feel like being a mother."
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The results from my first week on the Core Plan at Weight Watchers proved positive. I lost a little. I thought I would lose more. I expected I would. But I still lost so that is good.
I posted about the differences between the Flex and Core plan on my personal blog today.
One of the big differences about the Flex plan (one with the Points) and the Core plan is that you eat until you are satisfied. This, my dear readers, may be the reason for not losing at least a flipping pound this week.
Satisfied? How do I figure that out? I always ate until I was full or finished my plate and that was it. That is the way I was raised. “Are you full?” That was always the question when I would announce being “done” with dinner.
But being satisfied is a totally different thing. (READ MORE)

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It's very rare that I miss a day of work. VERY rare. I've called in sick only a handful of times in the last four years of my working life. I typically am a "bite the bullet" kind of girl and work at least a few hours when I'm feeling ill. So when I do call in sick, I'm usually very sick.

 

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Diabetes has always entailed a lot of paraphernalia. Back in the day, meters were three times the size they are now. Bottles of strips weighed a ton. And syringes came with much longer needles. Plus there were juice boxes, snack packs, and rolls of candy. But even now, with all the advances in this modern day and age, diabetes comes with baggage (and I'm not talking the emotional kind).

 

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I don't think I've ever hidden my diabetes from anyone in my life. In fact, shortly after I got the call that I was pre-diabetic I was standing in my boss's office telling her.
I've never hidden it in public, either. When I was pregnant with No. 3, a friend of mine and I went to a restaurant for lunch. We were at a restaurant/bar type of place and sitting pretty much in the back. I think there was another table of people around us, but, frankly, they weren't paying attention to us. And why should they? We ordered, I checked my sugar and then prepared to shoot up. Now, this was several years ago, but I distinctly remember her saying, "Are you going to just do that here?"
With the pen needle cap in the corner of my mouth and the skin on my right love handle pinched, I said, "Yea-uh. It's not like anyone can see me." I would have done it right there even if someone was watching. (READ MORE)

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Recently, a woman at work discovered I have diabetes. I don't hide the fact that I have it at work, but it's not readily apparent. In the interest of safety, I've told several key people outright - and the folks in the near vicinity of my work space know because I don't hide my testing, pumping, or other efforts toward good control. If someone asks, I am usually happy to answer questions, clear up misconceptions, or alleviate concerns.
L, who works on the other side of our fairly large office, and who I don't see that often, came to my desk the other day and rather unceremoniously started into a monologue about my diabetes, It went something like, "Oh, Nicole" Look of concern, "A just told me about your diabetes. You have the bad kind, don't you? You have to take shots and things. Oh it must be so hard with having it the way you do. You have to stay away from sweets and I bet the shots hurt a lot."
Oh Dear. What to do? (READ MORE)

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There's an old adage that says success is "one part inspiration, nine parts perspiration". We tend to see only the first part -- the results, the glitzy façade. Except at the finish line of a race -- whether that be marathon, triathlon, bicycle race, or horse race -- all hints of the perspiration (or let's face it, sweat) are carefully hidden.

 

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Thanks to the Amgen Tour of California contest-and-sale from Road ID, The Other Half sprung early for part of my birthday present -- the nice, sporty Wrist ID Elite. The "interactive" version features a member-controlled (that means I'm the one who puts the information in it and controls what information is in it) personal health record, which the Road ID folk call an "Emergency Response Profile" or ERP. The ERP can be read by (or read to) a first responder or a hospital admissions clerk from either the Road ID members' site or by calling a specific phone number. The name on the front and the unique serial number on the back of the ID tag provide the necessary access identification. (READ MORE)

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I'm sharing something today that I've only really told one person. As I packed boxes then proceeded to get into another argument with Marvin for the week, my mind was racing on a thousand thoughts. But as I hashed over the argument with my best friend via text, I admitted something out in the open that I don't think I'd really even admitted to myself.

 

I want to go home. Not for a weekend trip, not for even a vacation. Honestly, I would love to come running back to my family and friends and give up the fight that is my life right now. Between school, work, and Marvin, the ease of being back in my old life sounds more than thrilling. It sounds like salvation.

 

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To everything there is a level of precision, a degree of reliability, or a standard beyond which improvement is either unachievable, or requires huge investments of time and money well beyond the benefit of that improvement. Companies may refer to this point as "zero return on investment". Most of us just call it "good enough for jazz", "good enough for government work", or simply, "good enough".

 

It has been said that our ideal blood glucose levels "should" never vary outside the range of 80-126, ever -- but most of us don't have CGMs, none of us have glucose measurement technology with accuracy of greater than 5% (expanding that range out to 76-132) and even if we had them, we'd need infinitesimally-small amounts of ultra-fast acting insulin to keep it there every time it budged a point or two. For most of us, a two-hour postprandial reading of 140 is "good enough".

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