chotda on Flickr

I recently told a new co-worker about my diabetes. There was a little confusion, in which I clarified that I was type 1 (although I don't think that cleared things up a whole lot). Plus there was the typical response, like the number one question of "So what can you eat?"

This is where the differences of type 1 and type 2 strongly rear their heads. I replied that I can eat anything I want basically. It was followed by apple chips and an invitation to Jell-O.

  (READ MORE)

If life is in fact a series of actions and consequences (and good Lord, I hope it isn't), then the fact that I eventually developed type 2 diabetes (known affectionately around the Rummel-Hudson compound as "the Beedies") is about as mysterious as why it gradually gets lighter outside at roughly the same time each morning. ("Did someone install stadium lights out there? Lets investigate. Oh, look, the sun...")

In college, I lived a life of excess. Despite the fact that I also drank way more than I should have, the main culprit was food. Glorious, wonderful food. I live in Texas, so take those food items and deep fry them. (To this day, the idea of chicken fried steak repulses my northern friends, and yet just now, when I typed those three lovely words, I got a little slobbery.) I drank too much soda, I ate too much crap, and if something green ever went past my lips, it was probably an M&M. (READ MORE)

Being a dad with diabetes can have some affects on your family that you may have not thought about. I always show and explain as much as I can about my type 1 diabetes to my children, but there are times that my diabetes shows its ugly face in their lives.

Like this story:

I remember back to an event at our church when my son was five. It was a neighborhood fair and there were games, food, and bounce houses of every style you can think of. Each of the church members was asked to bring a dessert or casserole to share. Well, one family brought a huge box of individual wrapped Twinkies.

My son comes running over to me and asked if he can have one and of course I said okay. He grabbed a package of yellow squishy goodness and brought it over to us so we could help him get it open. As I am opening the package I can see his little eyes staring in wonderment at this very strange looking cake-like sort of thing.

I ask, "Have you ever had a Twinkie?" (READ MORE)

The open bag of chocolate-covered raisins stared at me from beside my keyboard. I had a craving that morning for something chocolate and popable, like M&Ms or junior mints. It was a strange craving because most of me didn't want to give in, but the part that drove me to the drug store and walked me to the candy aisle obviously won out.

I gave those raisins the evil eye before I twisted the top of the bag and threw them into my top desk drawer. I should have thrown them away, but I knew I'd want some later. Strange, yes, my thought process.

It was around lunch time when I sat on the couch, unable to move from the nastiness I was feeling in my stomach. Four times in two hours I had been to the bathroom. Getting back to work wasn't any easier as I was barely able to concentrate. (READ MORE)

It started last night. I guess it was right about the time I got home. I'm not sure there was one source or if it was a combination of things or if it was just one of those afternoons. I was cranky. Really cranky. Like drive me out to the middle of nowhere and leave me there kind of cranky. Even I didn't want to be around me.

It was close to an hour before it occurred to me that my crankiness might be due to a high blood sugar. I sighed. It all comes back to diabetes in one way or another, I thought angrily. I tested, and, sure enough, I was high. Really high, in fact. Over 300 kind of high. No wonder I was acting so terrible. (READ MORE)

I knew it was coming. The inevitability of a binge sat in the back of my mind like a cat gearing up to pounce on its prey. You know, the way he eases on to his back legs and shuffles back and forth, twitching his nose until the unsuspecting mouse/bird/snake isn't looking his way?

At the grocery store, I spent quite a bit more than I had hoped on routine groceries. As I was unpacking I realized that it was because of all the junk that found its way into the cart-despite my constant please to the kids to Put That Down! They say not to shop when you're hungry. I'd have to add not to shop when the cookie monster is raging inside you. Interestingly, though, when I left for the store it wasn't with junk food in mind. It's almost as if the store brainwashed me into thinking I had to have this stuff. (READ MORE)