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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "venting about diabetes":

I love to write. I love to express my opinions, emotions and thoughts. It's particularly fun to focus on important topics in my life, like my blog here. But sometimes it gets very overwhelming to know that hundreds of people are reading my words.
When I blog, I expose my life to the masses. I put my diabetes on display. I put my views about diabetes on display. And sometimes, those are the hardest things to show the world. (READ MORE)

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One thing that has always bothered me about diabetes is how our bodies react to different things. Our ability to physically heal is always slow. We also seem to be more prone to catching diseases and other ailments than most other people. Anytime we have a cut, sprain, break, or tear it seems like an eternity before our bodies fully recover. Anytime its flu season we hear about the need for people with diabetes to get their shot. Whenever dental hygiene is discussed we are reminded that it is even more important for us to take special care of our teeth and gums. Even things like staying too long in a hot tub, steam room, or sauna. WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH ALL THIS? (READ MORE)

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It's Wednesday, when the majority of the world is at work. So when the doorbell rings, I'm pretty sure it's a salesperson -- or the kid down the street.

 

This afternoon the doorbell rang. I quietly went downstairs ready to get "mad" at the neighbor kid who has come to the door two Wednesday afternoons lately looking for No. 1 and being genuinely confused about why I'm home and No. 1 is not.

 

I looked through the peep-hole expecting to see the kid. I saw no one, but kept looking thinking that he was so close to the door that I couldn't see him. I saw something on the street, but assumed it was a trashcan. I didn't open the door, walked upstairs and looked out the front window and saw and heard a UPS truck driving away.

 

UPS! I didn't order anything! Does that mean I got a present?! Ooooh a present!!

 

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For some reason my fingers are not being very nice to me. All day I have had to squeeze my fingers so hard they hurt. They will not give up any blood! I literally tried all of my fingers three times before I finally got enough for my machine.
Now I do remember back in the day when it seemed to take a "gallon" of blood to get a glucose reading so I am thankful it is not that way any longer. But my One Touch takes a much bigger drop then some of the other machines I have used. Unfortunately my insurance will not cover any other strips but the One Touch. Again, I am thankful for that but I just need to vent a little.
My hand hurts from squeezing my fingers. I can hardly feel my poked fingers anyway so you know it's bad when the squeezing hand is hurting. I have tried the alternate site testing but it is hard for me to trust it. (READ MORE)

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I hit "ESC" on Toohey to double check when my last bolus was. Yep, right on time. I suspect I'll be slightly high since I changed my site this morning and had a fast-food breakfast. But when I see 304 I'm shocked. I squeezed out another glob of blood and checked again. This time 302. Son of a f*%#ing b*&%h!

 

I had taken 9.5 units to correct for a hideous fasting (which is why I changed my site a day early; I'd been running high since I put that site in on Sunday morning) and for the excessive amount of carbs I was eating for breakfast. I had even logged on to the restaurant's web site for nutrition information before bolusing.

 

I'm so livid now that I can't finish doing what I was doing. I can't think. What the hell is wrong? Two things came to mind: 

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I really don't like going to the doctor. The endocrinologist to be specific. Every time I go, I just seem to leave disappointed. Sometimes it's less disappointment than others. Sometimes I'm just so angry at myself and at this disease. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I get mad at the doctor (because OF COURSE, it's HIS fault I'm diabetic!). But mostly, the doctor just makes me feel alone in what I feel.

 

Today I had an endo appointment (if you didn't already guess). My last A1c was 6.9, my lowest ever. I was absolutely thrilled at that number, yet the perfectionist in me still wanted lower. And I honestly tried for lower (less in the last month or so though). But life got in the way.

 

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A bedtime number of 91 with 1.9 units active? Are you insane? We both know I can’t send him to bed with 1.9 units of active insulin. Am I the mouse to your cheese? The fish to your worm? You want me to give him carbs, don’t you? You leave me no choice and we both know it. This is why I hate you!

 

 "Here, Charlie. Eat this."

 

45 minutes later:

 

88 with over a unit active??? You do know it’s the season premier of Heroes tonight, right? What am I supposed to do with 88? You know I have to give him another slight boost. You’re setting me up, aren’t you? Or are you? No, you are. Damn it! This is why I hate you!

 

"Charlie, drink some of this juice."

 

Two hours later:

 

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At 8am, I woke up to the alarm on my phone. I checked my blood sugar and was dumbfounded by the number on the screen. I was almost 100 points higher than I'd gone to bed at the night before. Pizza. Why are things never the same around here?

 

Around 9am, I left for work with an early start. Maybe I could leave early since I'd gotten some extra time the afternoon before as well. It was a thought at least. This week was my week to cut my hours back to my original 20. I'm attempting to stabilize my schedule before school throws another curve ball into the mix.

 

At 11am, I ate some crackers since my stomach was feeling a bit off. I didn't check my blood sugar and I didn't do insulin. I still haven't gotten totally comfortable with injections in my workplace. Especially since more people have been added in my office so I'm no longer alone.

 

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This has been a heck of a week.  At work, we've been fundraising since last Wednesday - on the radio waves (if you're from Rhode Island - will you please do what you can?).  I set some pretty aggressive targets for my team and we're scraping toward them, but aren't quite there.

 

I picked the wrong week to quit smoking, eh?  I know you're thinking Airplane, folks, and glue-sniffing and that's OK.

 

That was actually a purposeful decision.  Smaller doses of stress spread out over longer period of time make me far crazier than concentrated stress all in one short time period.  Perhaps it's the light at the end of the tunnel I like, I'm not sure.  But there's something about tackling a bunch of difficult things all at once that appeals to my nature.

 

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