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Charlie clutched Baby Doggy, a small puppy with a thin blue collar, and pulled the comforter higher onto his shoulders as we tucked him in. Baby Doggy's age starting to show in its fading gray coat and crusty tail. He also squeezed a small stuffed turtle named Pop as Susanne removed his insulin pump from his waist and gave him a correction for a blood sugar of 530.

Diabetes has spawned many emotions from Charlie. It has made him angry many times, frustrated often and ferociously defiant. On rare occasions, it's even made him happy if you can believe that. Skipping long lines at Disney comes to mind. Oh, and you should see how he dances around the hospital gift shop after an endo appointment.

But, on this night, something new. He was scared of diabetes.

"What if it goes up to 700?"

"What if it goes up to 1100?"

"Does it go up that high?"

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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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It had been more than a week since I had talked to Mom. This is nearly unheard of in our world, but it does occasionally happen. My busy life with three kids and their busy retirement life are the culprits.
So last night when Dad called to see if I knew about my brother's trip to Korea encountering problem after problem that eventually required him to come home to Missouri from Seattle, I was finally able to catch Mom up on what's going on in our lives.
"Did you know No. 2 has a double ear infection," I asked her.
"No, no didn't know that," she said.
"No. 3 is recovering nicely from her upper respiratory nastiness, but The Mr. is still battling a rough cough," I told her.
"OK, OK. And how are things going with the pump?" she wanted to know. (READ MORE)

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My fellow blogger Nicole Purcell, wrote an amazing entry the other day called, How Do Our Bodies Do It? She captivates very brilliantly what it is like to experience a severe late night episode of hypoglycemia. Some of us, fortunately, have never had an experience quite like the one she describes. Others are all too familiar with them. Speaking for myself, I am one of the fortunate ones, who has only been dangerously low a handful of times. I have never been injected with a glucagon shot and I've never really lost consciousness due to a low. But still, I could definitely relate to her experience because I can recall the episodes where I was just so unbelievably out of it. But her post got me thinking of the time when I was a camp counselor at a children's diabetic camp.
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My fellow blogger Nicole Purcell, wrote an amazing entry the other day called, How Do Our Bodies Do It? She captivates very brilliantly what it is like to experience a severe late night episode of hypoglycemia. Some of us, fortunately, have never had an experience quite like the one she describes. Others are all too familiar with them. Speaking for myself, I am one of the fortunate ones, who has only been dangerously low a handful of times. I have never been injected with a glucagon shot and I've never really lost consciousness due to a low. But still, I could definitely relate to her experience because I can recall the episodes where I was just so unbelievably out of it. But her post got me thinking of the time when I was a camp counselor at a children's diabetic camp.
(READ MORE)

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My fellow blogger Nicole Purcell, wrote an amazing entry the other day called, How Do Our Bodies Do It? She captivates very brilliantly what it is like to experience a severe late night episode of hypoglycemia. Some of us, fortunately, have never had an experience quite like the one she describes. Others are all too familiar with them. Speaking for myself, I am one of the fortunate ones, who has only been dangerously low a handful of times. I have never been injected with a glucagon shot and I've never really lost consciousness due to a low. But still, I could definitely relate to her experience because I can recall the episodes where I was just so unbelievably out of it. But her post got me thinking of the time when I was a camp counselor at a children's diabetic camp.
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This is a bit of a rant. I get on this horse periodically, ride it around, waving my flags and guns, foaming at the mouth a bit, going slightly nutty. You'll get used to it. Or ignore it.

What is the deal with lumping both types of diabetes together? Seriously. If I have to read one more freakin' article about how high fructose corn syrup causes diabetes or get one more stupid email from some clueless acquaintance, telling me that if I just put my kid on the Atkins diet, she'll be cured, I'm going to go to the top of the water tower and start picking people off. OK, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but holy cow, does it make my blood boil.
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