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

Up and down. That's the way it's been lately. Numbers are up, numbers are down, nothing is making sense, patterns are confusing, emotions are frustrating. I've seen some wildly high numbers in the past week or two that are completely blowing my mind. Go to bed at 109 mg/dl, but wake up at 5 am in the 300's.
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Is it so much to ask for to want to wake up every hour from midnight to 7 am and take small drops of blood from my 5-year-old son all night long? I'm sure this is every dad's fantasy. Insane, the things I wish for now.
We have been trying to do overnight basal testing for Charlie now for thirteen days straight. We just can't do it. It's absolutely ridiculous. Every single night we're forced to abort our mission before we can even get started. What's most frustrating is that all we need as a prerequisite is to have him somewhere in the 120 to 220 area at about 9 pm-10 pm, when the dinner insulin has run its course. Amazingly, we can't do it. Night after night. (READ MORE)

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Creep into the room quietly. Like a shadow.
Place testing supplies down gently beside the bed.
Don't stir the child. Avoid strong lighting. Use only enough to see what you're doing. I recommend a candelabra.
Tell the person playing the spooky pipe organ music to knock it off. It's not helping.
Gently pry his warm, sweaty fingers from underneath his pillow like they're bones guarded by a sleeping bulldog.
Inspect his fingers like a bad poker hand and discard each one until you find one you can use. (READ MORE)

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It's not like we're pressuring Charlie to begin testing himself. Whenever he is ready to take on that responsibility is fine with us.  But it honestly seems like it's never going to happen. He has no desire to take the reins. I remember feeling the same way when we went through potty training with him. It took forever.

 

I figured he'd be 18 years old, on his back in the living room – legs up in the air - holding moist baby wipes and rash ointment while a girl named Amanda waited in the dining room dressed in cap and gown, flicking cigarette ash into a paper cup. "Mom! C'mon! Are you gonna change my diaper or what!!! We're gonna miss graduation!"

 

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Olivia asked me last night when she was going to have her next appointment at Joslin. I wasn't sure, but told her it should be coming up soon. (Must check into that, actually.) She said she wanted to ask the doctor something. When I asked her what she wanted to know, she said she wanted to talk about alternate site testing.

We've done this in the past, without much success. But looking at her fingers last night, I told her she really needed to try again. Her fingertips are mangled - they're covered with black dots and she said they really, really hurt.

Part of the problem is that she tests right on the pads of her fingers rather than on the sides. The endo has told her repeatedly to stop doing that, but Olivia doesn't listen. Now, though, she's having a lot of pain and she's going to have to do that.
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While driving to a funeral in the Catskill Mountains yesterday, I called home and Susanne said "don't ask."

 

Charlie has been terribly high lately. I stared ahead at the cars on Route 17 and a valley of farmlands in the distance and responded sarcastically after getting the wretched numbers out of her.

 

"Fantastic."

 

The highs at school have been affecting Charlie emotionally in the last few days. With a blood sugar of 370, he had to skip the munchkins from the first of two in-class birthday parties. He had sugar-free Jell-O instead and was on the edge of losing it.

 

The kids were being rowdy and loud after the teacher had asked for quiet time.

 

"The ones who are still talking should stand up and go get a slip," Mrs. R said firmly.

 

Only one kid stood up.

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Many of us have been a-twitter about World Diabetes Day, bringing attention to the epidemic proportions of Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes and the Big Blue Test. Seattle had a bike ride as did Victoria, BC. Philadelphia had an event at the Temple University School of Podiatric Medicine. Those of us in the New York City area celebrated with a huge D-Meetup and pizza party. The indefatiguable Allison set things up in a Midtown office building. At its peak, over 20 Type 1s, Type 2s, and Type 3s gathered to enjoy each other's company and take part in the Big Blue Test.

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It's Spring break. The kids are home from school and the sun is shining (well, not really, but just go with it). Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Yeah, I know it's crazy, but hey, it's Spring Break. You're only young once. Let's get a little wild!

 

I'm talkin' one full week of all-inclusive, inverted, unadulterated, topless …

 

BASAL TESTING!

 

Woo-hoo! Par-tay!

 

How awesome is this gonna be? Charlie will get the full Spring Break experience. Unlimited Jell-O shots; binge testing; zany contests to see how long he can go without eating. It will be like being in Cabo San Lucas only from the comfort of our own home.

 

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Eat dinner no later than five pm and fast until seven am. Perform five blood sugar checks throughout the night. Fast until twelve pm, six pm or ten pm. Check your blood sugar every two hours. Does this sound familiar?
You guessed it. Basal tests. My least favorite thing about the pump.
I hate having to eat at a required time (and worrying about what I eat to make sure there isn't a huge delay). I hate having to check my blood sugar every two hours. I find it a little frightening to fast for that many hours at a time. Plus, I just hate fasting (I like to eat when I'm hungry). (READ MORE)

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Sometimes, as strangers walk by, you hear just a word or two that raises your antenna. When I commuted to New York City for a short time, I collected these words as people darted passed me on crowded streets. I jotted down what I heard in a journal, wondering how bits of random people’s conversations would sound if merged together. It was sort of interesting.

 

It may have been something like:

 

Chicago at 4:20. I'm going to get a second opinion. That bitch betta not be there. God bless.

 

At the ice skating rink on Saturday, I was taking off Ben’s skates when two lanky teenage boys and two girls walked by.

 

"Wait," one of the girls said.

 

"My testing crap!"

 

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