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Okay, I will warn you up front that this post is a total rant and has no other substance besides the fact that I need to let off some steam. I am also looking for some of you who have dealt with this annoying stereotype.
As I was minding my own business here at my desk the janitor comes up to me and asks me if I have to take shots everyday. I realize that he was listening to a conversation I was having with a co-worker about insulin and so on. A total eavesdropping moment right? So I answer, "nope." And totally leave it at that.
He says, "Oh you got off of insulin. That's good. Just a diet now or pills?"
"No I have an insulin pump."
"There is a gal in another office I clean that has to shoot up every day." Then he does it. He does this sort of motion with his right hand towards his left upturned arm. As if he is shooting up heroin or something right into his vein!
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I must be more than just playing around with the idea of a pump because I actually emailed my endo about it today.
I don't know why I feel funny about this, why I feel like me having a pump is overkill. Maybe because I'm "only" type 2, maybe because I'm not even three years into my diagnosis.
I shouldn't feel funny about it. I am reading more and more that insulin therapy for people with type 2 diabetes is being introduced earlier. Yes, I'm already on insulin and have been so since roughly three months after I was diagnosed. So what's the difference if I'm taking my insulin from shots or from a pump?
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I must be more than just playing around with the idea of a pump because I actually emailed my endo about it today.
I don't know why I feel funny about this, why I feel like me having a pump is overkill. Maybe because I'm "only" type 2, maybe because I'm not even three years into my diagnosis.
I shouldn't feel funny about it. I am reading more and more that insulin therapy for people with type 2 diabetes is being introduced earlier. Yes, I'm already on insulin and have been so since roughly three months after I was diagnosed. So what's the difference if I'm taking my insulin from shots or from a pump?
(READ MORE)
Olivia moved her site to her belly and her numbers have been much better. So thighs are definitely out.
We talked about it the other night - she's sick of using her belly. It looks awful, full of bumps and keloids and just generally mangled. I'm going to call her CDE at Joslin to see if we can start using her arms again. We're also going to start moving her sites out more towards her sides, in an effort to get around to her backside. Not her butt, because she says that really hurts, especially when she's sleeping, but in that area above the belt, where she still has some padding.
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As we prepare for the upcoming JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes, I'm reminded of a conversation I had with Charlie when he was 3, just prior to our second walk.
"We walk and we raise money so that there can be a cure for diabetes," I explained to him. He looked at me blankly, clearly confused.
"Can you buy me something at Toys 'R Us with the money?"
"No. The money is for a cure."
"What's a cure?" he asked.
"We raise money so that maybe someday the doctors will be able to take diabetes away. Maybe someday you won't have diabetes anymore. That would mean no shots and no more testing your blood sugar."
I thought my little pep talk would make Charlie excited and hopeful. Instead, a wave of panic washed over him. Not the reaction I was expecting.
He got very upset at the thought of no longer having diabetes and even cried when I suggested he wouldn't have to test his blood sugar if there was a cure.
"Keep testing!," he sobbed.
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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?
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As I sat in the lower level of the on-campus trolley stop I thought about the injection I just took and the maze of shots I take every day. How many more shots will I take in my life? How many more times will I have to stutter-step, looking for a good place to shoot-up some insulin? How drastically might an
insulin pump change my routine?
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The baby woke up at 4:45 this am, feverish and hungry. She had four shots at her 4-month well-baby check yesterday so this was to be expected. I dosed her with baby analgesic and fed her and by then, it was past time for me to be up and about.
Last night I didn't do any of my morning prep work. Usually I try to shower, pack my food, maybe set up the coffee maker and make sure my meds are all set up in my weekly pill box.
(I have TWO seven-compartment weekly pill boxes - just like an eighty-year-old). Maybe pick out my clothes. You know, all that stuff that you can do ahead of time to make the morning less stressful. I didn't do any so I could watch
Kitchen Nightmares with my husband.
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I often wonder what the "best" age is to be diagnosed with diabetes. (I'm not saying there is a "best" but I wonder when it's "easiest" persay.)
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Tiny, seemingly invisible water droplets soar through the air, projected by the reflexive action of a coworker. The inconspicuous
flu virus enters your mouth or nose, it’s version of nirvana. Your warm, moist body provides the luscious environment for the evil-doers to multiply and make your week miserable.
This internal image along with cooling weather and sickly school mates and coworkers drives me to seek out a yearly flu vaccine. A stint with flu symptoms throws my routine into a domino of disruption. Not just with taking charge of diabetes needs, but by missing work, falling behind in school work and education, losing weight from appetite loss, and that endlessly obnoxious thumping in the back of my head.
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