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Diabetes is hard work. Everyday I use my brain to survive and thrive. Every day I'm a mathematician, nutritionist and doctor.
I add carbs together, often so naturally I never give it a second thought (until three hours later when my levels leap up to 250). I subtract and add boluses to achieve an accurate dose. I figure percentages of basal rates to achieve a better A1c. I find the averages of blood sugars, insulin totals and daily carb counts (or let my high tech meter and pump do it for me). My brain is full of numbers and levels just waiting to be added, divided and analyzed. (READ MORE)

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Yesterday, on Nicole's post Wha? I'm a Wha? one of her commenters said she thought type 1 should be thought of as a lifestyle rather than a disease. I couldn't disagree more.

If it's called a lifestyle, people will think you brought it upon yourself. People will think that you're eating well and counting carbs and exercising because this is a lifestyle choice that you've made.

There is enough confusion about type 1 and just about diabetes in general that I think calling it a lifestyle does a great disservice to people who are struggling with this disease. And it is a disease, regardless of type.
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I went out to lunch with a group after church today. I have not been going to this church very long and this was my first time joining this group. I didn't know any of the people very well at all.
I had the 4 year old and the 6 month old along and they were keeping me hopping. (Actually just the 4 y.o.) We all perused the menu. It was a Mexican restaurant.
[I can hear the gasps from you now. Mexican food is very high carb, high fat and difficult to judge as far as blood sugars. It's also a big fat no-no for most diet plans.]
I made a not-wise selection but justified most of it by substituting whole black beans for the refried beans that came with the lunch special. Yes, the fiber would undo the 100 grams of carbs I was about to ingest. Then I tuned into the discussion across the table. (READ MORE)

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I don't think I've ever hidden my diabetes from anyone in my life. In fact, shortly after I got the call that I was pre-diabetic I was standing in my boss's office telling her.
I've never hidden it in public, either. When I was pregnant with No. 3, a friend of mine and I went to a restaurant for lunch. We were at a restaurant/bar type of place and sitting pretty much in the back. I think there was another table of people around us, but, frankly, they weren't paying attention to us. And why should they? We ordered, I checked my sugar and then prepared to shoot up. Now, this was several years ago, but I distinctly remember her saying, "Are you going to just do that here?"
With the pen needle cap in the corner of my mouth and the skin on my right love handle pinched, I said, "Yea-uh. It's not like anyone can see me." I would have done it right there even if someone was watching. (READ MORE)

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The more I learn about this disease of diabetes, the more amazed I am how it affects every single bit of our bodies.
It makes sense since excess sugar is in our blood which travels to every inch of our bodies. Blood carries nutrients in and wastes out of every system we have.
My dentist had told me that gum disease was very common in persons with diabetes, but I didn't realize how symbiotic the relationship was. (READ MORE)

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Not long after I wrote this post about a news story that called bariatric surgery a "cure" for type 2 diabetes, a friend of mine emailed to ask about one of the comments. A reader suggested that there will never be a cure for diabetes because the disease is a money maker.
I explained to my friend that the multi-billion-dollar industry makes a profit in so many areas: test strips, meters, oral drugs, insulin, pumps, syringes, even accessories. What motivation is there, I asked her, for the world to come up with a cure and put all those good people out of work.
I may be naive and woefully open minded, but I am not a pessimist; I believe there are good doctors and researchers out there who are not motivated by money. (READ MORE)

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"Pretty cool, huh?" I say to Charlie's soccer teammates, as I remove his pump from his pants and hold down the up arrow.
We met for ice cream and handed out trophies yesterday afternoon. Charlie couldn't wait for his first-ever trophy. He was giddy all morning despite having unexplained high blood sugars.
The boys watch, with dripping brown, blue and white beards, as I hold the up arrow button down for what feels like an eternity. 97, 144, 172. Higher. 201, 233, 268. Higher. 280, 312 and , stop! 339. Phew! At least it wasn't 340. Now that would have been high.
I cringe as he bites into the chocolate ice cream and his own brown beard takes shape around his mouth. He smiles at me, knowing that his face looks funny. I smile back uncomfortably. I hate this disease! I hate this disease! I HATE THIS DISEASE! (READ MORE)

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There are certain things in our lives that we do because we know they need to be done. No matter how physically or emotionally painful, we have to do them.

 

Like going to the dentist. Which is especially important for those of us with diabetes because diabetes can make a person twice as likely to develop gum disease, which can make blood sugar management more challenging, which makes the gum disease worse, which can lead to kidney failure and heart disease, etc., etc.

 

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Imagine it's the end of the world.

 

There's a flu pandemic. Or The Plague. Or the sun is burning a hole in the atmosphere and we all have to be herded into caves. There's mass panic and people need medical treatment.

 

Imagine having to decide who is worth saving and who isn't. That was the task of an "influential group of physicians" who drew up a "grim" list of patients who simply wouldn't be treated, according to this story.

 

The idea is to try to make sure that scarce resources--including ventilators, medicine and doctors and nurses--are used in a uniform, objective way, task force members said.

 

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You've probably heard the phrase "seagull manager." A boss who comes in, craps all over the place, makes a big mess and then leaves. A recent blog post of mine seems to have brought in a seagull commenter. And, frankly, I'm quite angry about it.

The commenter accused me of being "selfish and neglectful and not a very good mother." That his/her "...biggest problem is that you complain about what an inconvenience it is for YOU." That I am "uninterested in Olivia's health." And finally, that I "didn't feel like being a mother."
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