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

I checked, double checked and triple checked the TSA website to make sure I knew every law before I made my flight. I found out diabetics can carry water, juice and all supplies on board the plane. I read all my rights when or if they searched me or my bag. (READ MORE)

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"I want you to walk ahead of me in case I get stopped," I said to The Mr. We were standing in one of the "expert traveler" lines at the security checkpoint at LAX. Although I had been searched twice in my last three air travels, I thought I was free since I had gotten through security the last time without being searched.

 

It was particularly dark in this part of the airport. I was particularly emotional having dealt with a screaming No. 3 for about 45 minutes. We had been on vacation and she was completely off schedule and crabby. I had a feeling that I was going to get stopped coming through the security tent.

 

"I have an insulin pump," I said, holding my pump up for the screener to see. A mantra I had tried and not tried each time I went through security.

 

"OK, come on through," she said.

 

I beeped. I knew it.

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I took Charlie to his first NHL hockey game.
I took him straight into the lion's den - the house of the enemy - the Philadelphia Flyers. We weren't exactly feeling the "brotherly love" as we came to support the opposing team - the New Jersey Devils.
I had prepped Charlie in the car ride over.
"You know how you say Boo, Flyers! when we're at home and you see them on TV?"
"Uh huh."
"Well you can't do that when we get there. They. Will. Murder. Us."
It didn't take long for Charlie to realize that we were in the vast minority as we parked the car and stepped out into a sea of orange and black.
"Let's not bring this," Charlie said quietly, neatly folding and handing me the picture he drew that said "LET'S GO DEVILS."
Kudos to the security guard who stopped us as we entered the arena to check if I had any plastic containers in my small cooler.
"Yeah, I do, but my son's a diabetic and I ," (READ MORE)

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I took Charlie to his first NHL hockey game.
I took him straight into the lion's den - the house of the enemy - the Philadelphia Flyers. We weren't exactly feeling the "brotherly love" as we came to support the opposing team - the New Jersey Devils.
I had prepped Charlie in the car ride over.
"You know how you say Boo, Flyers! when we're at home and you see them on TV?"
"Uh huh."
"Well you can't do that when we get there. They. Will. Murder. Us."
It didn't take long for Charlie to realize that we were in the vast minority as we parked the car and stepped out into a sea of orange and black.
"Let's not bring this," Charlie said quietly, neatly folding and handing me the picture he drew that said "LET'S GO DEVILS."
Kudos to the security guard who stopped us as we entered the arena to check if I had any plastic containers in my small cooler.
"Yeah, I do, but my son's a diabetic and I ," (READ MORE)

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I've been bragging for a few months now that Mom and Dad are flying my family, my brother's family and my single brother to Catalina Island, Calif., in June to celebrate Mom's 60th birthday (which is in August). Having spent quite a bit of time at the beach as a youngster, I simply can't wait to introduce my children to the ocean.
Although the trip isn't until the first week of June, I've already done some preparing. I'm making mental lists of supplies I'll need for the kids, noting which suitcases to take, realizing I need to drop a few pounds, and even (gasp!) deciding to buy a new swim suit since it's been years since I had a new one. (I think I may need to be heavily sedated or severely drunk for that dressing room session!) (READ MORE)

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Some days, I really LOVE my insulin pump. On those days, I recognize the power of this life-saving device and I am grateful to have it at my side. On those days, when I'm not connected for a shower or exercise, I am acutely aware of its absence. (READ MORE)

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Seven weeks into this whole motherhood thing and I can honestly say I understand the true meaning of sleep deprivation. It's a brand of exhaustion I have never experienced before. Finals week in college does not begin to touch the level of tired I am. Moonlighting as a rock star while (barely) holding a 9 to 5 gig as an editor comes close, but still no cigar.
There is a reason sleep deprivation is used as torture, although I can't imagine how well it works if you're trying to get someone to talk. I'm so tired I barely know my own name right now. If I possessed any classified information crucial to the nation's security, that secret would be safe with me, because I really can't remember much of anything.
Things that were previously second nature now require a great deal of effort. And that primarily applies to my diabetes control. (READ MORE)

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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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I took Charlie to his endo appointment yesterday. It was the first time we didn't come with an unraveling scroll full of questions. I had no questions because I believe they have no answers.
It's not that Charlie is doing so poorly. His latest A1c of 8.2 was his best ever. But his numbers have been rough since school started and patterns have become difficult to spot.
A pair of medical students entered the room with big smiles and lots of questions. I couldn't help sounding very matter of fact and slightly defeatist.
"Yes, we're counting carbs correctly. Reading labels, subtracting fiber, all that fun stuff," I said.
"Yes, we have the Calorie King book."
A social worker came in next. She looked young - like she just came from cheerleading practice. (READ MORE)

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For a while there, I was really starting to think Charlie was going to use his super diabetes powers to keep the flu at bay. I was hoping for some irony. Maybe the kid with D would be the only one in the household left standing.
No such luck. Charlie is on day two of what has become known as "The Great Ass Whoopin' of 2008." Or the somber yet simple, "March Sadness." I estimate that we'll see the light at the end of the tunnel by sometime in July.
Now Charlie has even more numbers surrounding him. And this has me confused.
Susanne tells me he's 102 and I think, wow! Pretty good considering he has the flu. Unfortunately she's referring to his body temperature and not his blood sugar. "Oh, blood sugar? You don't want to know that," she says. (READ MORE)

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