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)

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)

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)

Recently, my mom and I were talking about our eating habits. When she was a teacher, she said, there were typically goodies in the teacher's lounge. Every carb-heavy, sugar-filled concoction you could imagine. From donuts to stolens to cookies and cakes. She said if she could just hold out until the kids left for the day, she felt pretty good about making it home without touching anything. If she happened to grab one of those treats first thing in the morning, though, she was extra super diligent for the rest of the day, she said.

"Oh, man! Not me!" I said. The earlier I cheat, the more likely I am to be bad for the rest of the day. She was shocked at my admission. (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)

There are some days that-despite fresh comments from my husband about 'someday having to cut off Mommy's foot'-I say to him "I'm going to get some ice cream." Those are usually the days he knows I need my fix to feel better because stress in one form or another has gotten the best of me.

And then there are the days when I sit in the parking lot of the grocery store eating a triple chocolate Drumstick because I know I can't scarf it down before I get home. (I bet this gets eaten on the way home, the cashier quips with a smile.) I head to the store under the auspices of getting milk or cereal for the next morning, but it's also an excuse to find something to feed my nasty habit. I really can't pass up a candy bar stand in a grocery store; although, I used to be able to. (READ MORE)