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Charlie got happy on Saturday. Happy to the tune of 520 mg/dl.

For several reasons, if we have something fun planned for the kids, we don't divulge the news until the very last moment. This is because A. – it's really annoying to hear "is it time to go yet?" over and over again for weeks because they can't comprehend the concept of time or understand the complexities of calendars,  B. – we don't want them to be disappointed if for some reason we can't go, and 3. – it's really annoying to hear "is it time to go yet" over and over again for weeks.

When we went to Disney, we kept that secret for months. They found out we were going to Disney about three hours before our flight to Orlando was to depart.

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Ever since I got my pump, I stopped logging my blood sugars. Typically, I kept a running chart of every blood sugar categorized by time of day and weekly averages. But since the pump stores all of my information and produces such wonderful graphs, I stopped logging.

 

However, those graphs do not show specific blood sugar trends on a weekly basis and the numbers are never directly in front of me (haunting me at times). So I decided that I would get back on the logbook wagon.

 

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The first time I knew “it” was in ninth grade. My class had to lead a chapel session at my private school. I was in charge of reading a passage of scriptures and leading music with some of the other kids. It was the first chapel my class had done. We’d be in front of a hundred of our peers and a dozen of our teachers.

 

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I like to think I'm a pretty easy going person. There's not much that rattles my cage. Well, you might check with The Mr. on that one. I guess what I'm getting at is that up until recently, I haven't really had any diabetes-related pet peeves. Especially not in the realm of Did you actually just say that to me?
There was that one time when a friend of mine forgot I had diabetes and apologized several days later for setting a plate of (burned) cookies (which I didn't eat because they were BURNED) in front of me during a meeting. I sort of laughed that one off. I mean, saying you're sorry for encouraging someone to eat burned cookies is actually a little comical. (READ MORE)

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Low blood sugars that happen in the middle of the night really suck! You're dead asleep, and then all of the sudden your dreams start getting confusing and weird. You start feeling like you should probably drag yourself out of bed and get something from your sugar stash. You barely have the energy to get up and then once you do you stumble around and nearly black out. You feel confused and you act and look as though you've had WAY too much to drink. Then after you climb back into bed you just sit there for a while and you try to wait patiently while your sugar goes back up or until you feel good enough to fall back asleep.

Well, that's what happened to me last night, and what I tend to experience almost once a week.
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As Type 2 diabetics, we're often told that the best thing we can do for ourselves is lose weight. And that's undeniably true. But no one tells you ahead of time how weird that process can be.
Now, I write about my own weight struggle a lot, so perhaps it's time for me to own up to some actual numbers. I'm not an "alert the media" level fat guy. When I was diagnosed with diabetes almost two years ago, I went on a panic-and-phentermine-fuled weight loss frenzy, and I lost about thirty pounds. At 6'2", I got down to about 205 pounds. So not Jude Law, but not Jabba the Hutt, either.
This was quite a difference from the worst of my college days, when I weighed (and I can't believe this, even as I type it) about 280 pounds. I was a mess, a big sloppy boozy lummox. I'd managed to lose about thirty of those pounds before I was even diagnosed, because let's face it, Dean Wormer in Animal House was right. "Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son." (READ MORE)

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As Type 2 diabetics, we're often told that the best thing we can do for ourselves is lose weight. And that's undeniably true. But no one tells you ahead of time how weird that process can be.
Now, I write about my own weight struggle a lot, so perhaps it's time for me to own up to some actual numbers. I'm not an "alert the media" level fat guy. When I was diagnosed with diabetes almost two years ago, I went on a panic-and-phentermine-fuled weight loss frenzy, and I lost about thirty pounds. At 6'2", I got down to about 205 pounds. So not Jude Law, but not Jabba the Hutt, either.
This was quite a difference from the worst of my college days, when I weighed (and I can't believe this, even as I type it) about 280 pounds. I was a mess, a big sloppy boozy lummox. I'd managed to lose about thirty of those pounds before I was even diagnosed, because let's face it, Dean Wormer in Animal House was right. "Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son." (READ MORE)

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Someone asked me a few weeks ago how my type 2 diagnosis affected my family. Honestly, I said, not very much. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad or a mix of both.
For one thing, I've always been the meal planner, grocery shopper, chef and chief bottle washer in our family. Furthermore, I always cooked fairly healthy for my family, tried to get a good mix of meats, veggies, starches and fruits. So adjusting our meal plan really didn't take much effort. (I know, you're wondering how I got to be so overweight if I cooked so healthy. Sweets have always been a big part of my life. The weight comes from not sharing, essentially. And I like to eat. A lot. And all the time.) (READ MORE)

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I wish I could attach Olivia's log for this week so you could see what I'm referring to. She's had some massive changes in blood sugar levels. Tonight, she was 39. When she got home from school, she was a decent 174. Last night? 329. Oy.

I'm pretty sure the day she claimed to be putting in her numbers and bolusing, she really didn't because I haven't seen anything else like that. I haven't said anything to her to that effect, though. I don't want to accuse her of something that I have no way of proving. And if she is right and the pump is starting to go, I don't want her to think I'm doubting her about it. If she thinks I don't believe her, she tends not to tell me things, which is not what I want right now. Or ever, for that matter.
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I often wonder what the "best" age is to be diagnosed with diabetes. (I'm not saying there is a "best" but I wonder when it's "easiest" persay.) (READ MORE)

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