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

I am a need-to-know person. You could call it curious or nosey. I'm an information junkie. All of which could explain my profession.

 

If I have high or low blood sugar, I want to know why. I want to know the reason behind it so I can adjust accordingly.

 

So, when I experienced nearly a week of pretty elevated blood sugars, I assumed it was due to my new infusion site. I have been trying (apparently unsuccessfully) to move my sites outward from the middle of my lower abdomen. After the first branch out recently, I tried to give the site some time to settle in. But after several days, I knew it was a lost cause. So I changed the site early and despite my desire to go back to where I knew I'd get good numbers, I moved outward again. Still, I got several days of unacceptable numbers.

 

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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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Olivia has a tendency to run high after exercise. I don't know why, I just know that she does. What we usually do is have her eat something light an hour before practice and bolus her a little more than usual for the carbs eaten - usually 30% more. It seems to work, although like many things with this stupid disease, what works one day might not work the next.

Last night, Olivia got home from soccer practice and said she'd taken out her site because it was hurting her when she ran. I told her that was fine, but that she should take a shower and we'd put in a new one when she was done. This was around 7:15.
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Getting dressed Monday morning I thought to myself that today was the day when my office-mates would finally ask me about diabetes. Over the weekend workers moved our entire 120ish-person workforce from one not-yet-renovated building into temporary quarters in the newly renovated building.

 

As I unpacked my box, I gingerly tacked my "cure diabetes" pin from Beth onto my cube wall near my computer screen, my bag of emergency Jelly Belly's went onto the open shelf above my computer along with popcorn, granola bars, juice boxes and sugar-free cough drops. Something is bound to tip them off, I thought.

 

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Last week, while watching "Survivor" with my husband, I blurted out how upset I was that I'd never be able to be on the show.
"Why not?" he asked. "You know, because of my diabetes," I said.
He thought that was the funniest thing ever, and if you knew me well, you'd think that was funny too. At the time, though, I was serious. My diabetes was holding me back from being a contestant on "Survivor."
Hubby patted my on the shoulder and said, "You just keep telling yourself that, honey."
The truth is, he's right. It's not my diabetes that keeps me from being on the show, although I don't recall there ever being a diabetic Survivor, and please, correct me if I'm wrong. The fact of the matter is, I'm a wuss.
For starters, there are the creature comforts that I have come to enjoy. Things like a roof over my head, my Select Comfort Bed, 500-thread count sheets, and feather pillows. I would not make it one night camping, let alone having to make my own shelter. (READ MORE)

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Too often, we look at the 7-day, 14-day, and 30-day trends on our blood glucose monitors, see numbers that look great (or horrid), and rather than seeing an A1c that confirms those readings, we get a number that would appear to have come completely out of left field. (Or Mars. Or the Andromeda Galaxy. It's hard to say exactly where.) We can either scratch our heads and wonder why the numbers aren't correlating, or we can take out our manual readings logs, our meter downloads, our CGM downloads, and our personal journals and try to figure "what we are doing wrong".

 

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In this post I will rant and rave in a way I don’t think I ever have about something that when I look back at this post in about 20 minutes may see incredibly trivial. Or not.
 

Seriously, what is the logic behind checking my blood sugar at the endocrinologists office? Not *me* checking my sugar, but the nurse checking it during the course of blood pressure, weight, pulse, etc.
 

I mean really, for them it’s a totally random time to check someone’s sugar. They never ask when I ate last or when I last bolused. What is the reason for this?
 

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Elizabeth commented on yesterday's Pump Nostalgia post, saying she has been type 1 for 38 years and has in the past resisted the idea of going on a pump. She wants to know what I find so thrilling about it.

For starters, and probably the biggest things for me, it's the precision and the convenience. As for precision there are a couple of aspects: I don't have to conform to a certain number of carbs to match my insulin:carb ratio. For example, like many people, I am more insulin resistant in the morning, so my insulin:carb ratio is lower. So if I'm having 45 carbs and my insulin:carb ratio is 1:12 and my sugar is within target, I can't take 3.75 units with an insulin pen. So I either have to decrease or increase the number of carbs or the amount of insulin and deal with the consequences later.

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I try not to say bad things about people. Especially people who are close to me. I believe in karma and that what you give comes back to you tenfold and vice versa. So, like I said, I try not to say bad things about people.

 

But oh my gawd do I have to vent!! There is a person in my life who is very close to me, very influential. I love this person dearly and would be absolutely devastated if TP weren't in my life. I strive not to let TP down and enjoy telling TP about all facets of my life.

 

Today was a bad diabetes day. My sugar was shooting up through the roof this afternoon and no amount of insulin was touching it. And since I had already had a low today, I didn't want to overtreat (although I was very close).

 

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OK, I really don't hate Halloween. In fact, I really like the "holiday". I love to see well-done costumes and to watch my children have so much fun gathering all that candy and showing off their costumes. It's fun to watch them have fun. Even my office-mates enjoy the black-and-orange season. This morning we all walked downstairs to see the parade of three-year-old preschoolers come through in their costumes while trick-or-treating at the downtown businesses. We oohed and aahhed at the pirate, the princess, the flower and the pilot. (READ MORE)

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