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We found 6 result(s) that match your search "vaccination":

Despite the fact that temperatures here in the Valley of the Sun (or as my brother likes to call it The Actual Sun) continue to hover around 100 degrees, it's technically fall, which means that flu season is upon us.

 

I don't think I ever got a flu shot prior to getting diabetes. I was healthy for the most part and likely didn't understand what the flu really is. And even four years into the disease, last fall was the first time I got the shot since being diagnosed.

 

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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. (READ MORE)

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Hey, bud. Been meaning to talk to you about this for a while. I've noticed that an awkward, unspoken rule has formed between us. Like you hold back when sharing concerns about little Timmy. Damn, that kid is cute. Have you met his father yet? Kidding.
You mention typical bumps and bruises sometimes, but you're quick to get off the subject, because "it's nothing compared to what you go through with Charlie and diabetes," you say.
It's true; it's not easy managing Charlie's diabetes. But you're allowed to be exhausted because you were up all night with the baby even though he doesn't have diabetes.
You're allowed to be worried over a rash or a bee sting or an especially peculiar smelling fart for that matter even though your child doesn't have diabetes.
I want to hear about it. I want to hear all about it.
In turn, I find myself not telling you everything about Charlie. I feel like you must be so tired of my complaining. (READ MORE)

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I don't believe in vaccines. Perhaps it was the family that I grew up in. Or the disease that I've lived with every day since a series of regular, routine vaccines when I was 4 years old. Maybe it's just my own understanding of health and traditional thinking.

 

But I don't believe in them. However controversial that might be and however many of you might hate/ban/harass me for it, I cannot bring myself to believe in them. And trust me, I have done my research.

 

When I was 4 years old, my mother took me in for all the regular vaccines. The most memorable for both of us is the MMR because it has since been linked to autoimmune diseases such as type 1 diabetes. Almost immediately, my mom noticed a change in me. I was sick, unlike myself, and in ill health.

 

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Ring around a rosy, a pocket full of posies...

 

By the time we reach adulthood, most of us know that the seemingly-nonsensical nursery rhymes of youth were sharp political snipes and sarcastic observations at the time of their composition. We know, for example, that the "ring" or "rosy" was the distinct buboe of bubonic plague, that it was believed that carrying around fresh flowers would help ward off the Plague, that the belongings of a Plague victim would be burned to try to limit the spread of the disease, and that all too many people had succumbed -- and would succumb -- to its horrors.

 

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It's unusual for me to have nightmares — especially nightmares about flying. Mine are usually about family relationships gone completely awry. But facing a World Diabetes Day on which I am working at a place whose uniform does not allow even a touch of blue, having given Nick Jonas my last World Diabetes Day pin (and not having had the money to replenish my stash), and having failed to have the presence of mind to do the Big Blue Test at least once (even though I am bicycling to and from work at least half the time), I feel a bit like a diabetes failure. (READ MORE)

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