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

As a diabetic, I often feel like my life is an "Emergency Preparedness Commercial." You know the kind of commercials during hurricane season or right before huge winter storms? They tell everyone to have water, candles, nonperishable foods, a first aid kit, etc. That seems to be my life: constant preparedness. (READ MORE)

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Sometimes diabetes makes me feel so alone. I've always been the "token" diabetic in my family. And after almost fifteen years of being the only one, I'm adjusted to the idea. I'm good at doing this "alone." I actually like it. I know that no one I love deals with it. I never have anyone to blame. Plus it makes me unique.
In October of last year... that all changed. My dad was diagnosed with type 1. I've never worried about my parents getting it, only my future children. Yet here we are: my father has my disease. It feels horrible, a true blow to the gut. (READ MORE)

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I've been on the pump for nine months now. There are still things that I don't know about it and still things I don't do to make it work efficiently. Overall, I'm still happy that I jumped into getting it and that I stuck with it past the initial adjustment phase.

 

I do miss things about multiple daily injections, like the clothes I could wear or the ease of being prepared. Mostly, I miss that I could be completely free. No tubing to worry about, no infusion sets, no reservoirs to fill.

 

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I'm leaving for Mexico today on a little (much needed) vacation. This is only my second trip since being on the pump. My first trip went over quite smoothly. I have no idea what my blood sugars ran, but I don't recall anything too horrific. And I didn't have any problems traveling with my pump or supplies.

 

But each trip is a little different and always a little nerve-racking. What if I didn't bring enough supplies? What if my snacks cause a red flag through airport security? Worse, what if they think I'm some terrorist because of my pump? What if I have an emergency while I'm there, surely those hospitals aren't like home?

 

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Since becoming a "Weight Watcher," I have noticed the amount of stress in my life has increased. Having diabetes means I carry around a bunch of stuff with me where ever I go. I have my Glucose testing machine, strips, lancets, glucose tabs, and not to mention my carb counting book.
And now I have to add my Dining Out Guide which gives me the point values to restaurant food, my sliding scale for figuring point values, my tracker which I log my points in, and the Food Guide that has point values for all kinds of foods. So you see, I have more stuff to remember these days then I did before. (READ MORE)

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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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It may be strange or alarming, but I've often imagined being kidnapped. I watch a lot of TV crime dramas, so the thoughts tend to race through my head. I imagine my reaction as a human, as a woman, and as a diabetic.

 

As a human, I know that I'm not giving up without a fight. My life is precious and valuable, whether someone else sees that or not. I would try every plan to escape or leave every clue to allow the police to do their jobs quickly and efficiently.

 

As a woman, the same truths apply. I'm not giving up without a fight. I refuse to give in to whatever threats unless I've tried my hardest to get away or delay the action.

 

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Olivia has had diabetes for almost ten years now. The first few years were a struggle, emotionally and blood sugar-wise. I felt like I'd gone back to school - I had to learn this new language, this new way of life and it was hard.
It's been so long now, though, that diabetes care is pretty much second nature for us. We all look at carb information on packages of food, we're all really good at guessing when that information isn't there. I've talked about this stuff with my family, too. I thought they were on board with it all. I didn't expect them to be as expert as I am (and believe me, I know I could always know more), but I thought they'd at least gleaned information from all of my speeches over the years. (READ MORE)

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When my husband and I decided to start a family, we knew my diabetes would be an issue. As a health writer, I spent months researching the topic before actually getting down to work. I read every book on the subject and followed every internet link. I figured I know just about everything there is to know to be prepared for the nine months ahead.
For the most part, I take great care of myself-too good if you ask some of my doctors-yet all of my research and obsessive control could never prepare me for the challenges of a diabetic pregnancy.
That's why I'm so grateful to have found a website devote entirely to women like me. On the forums at Diabetic Mommy, women of all types of diabetes in all stages of motherhood from all over the world share wisdom, advice, laughter and tears with one another. (READ MORE)

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I sat at the stop sign at Love Street and Coal. Just a block away I got into my car after eating lunch. I had been good having just a sandwich, a glass of water and a handful of wheat thins crackers. I felt satisfied, not hungry and ready to go back to work. I was thanking Byetta for my lack of appetite. In fact, I remember thinking that I could have easily skipped lunch.
But between my house and Love Street the two sides of my brain prepared for battle. Going straight on Coal meant going back to work. It meant skipping the gas station or the drug store where I would break the $20 bill in my wallet for a cheap thrill. Going straight meant I had will power, that I didn't need chocolate, that I could make it through the afternoon at my desk without that rush. (READ MORE)

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