One underlying theme of diabetes blogs and complaints is the difference of our daily routines from those of people who have never known a blood glucose test, never chosen foods based on specific ingredients or an organization's endorsement, never had to dress in a manner different from those around them, and never had to follow a ritual not of the mainstream. Yet we see, meet with, and talk to people who do this on a daily basis, who could never think of not doing this (or who would never consider it)... who do not have diabetes, nor are they housemates of people with diabetes. (READ MORE)

This weekend, for the fourth time, my back went out of whack. What'd I do? Simply bent over the couch to put a Christmas tree decoration into a box. The first time it happened: I was leaning over my pump supply box for new supplies; the second time, leaning over to put a new trashbag in the trash can; the third time, leaning over the grocery cart to get items for check out. Notice a pattern?

It was just four months ago the last time it happened. At least each time it happens the symptoms aren't as bad as the last. At least this time I had more movement than I did last time. This time I could move around enough to cook for the kids and do a few chores around the house. The injury happened on Friday and by Sunday I was out shopping with No. 2, though I was still pretty stiff and had to lie down as soon as we got home.

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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.

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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)