Since I missed this week's Diabetes Social Media Advocacy #dsma chat, I'm addressing this week's questions here. The topic was disclosure — who (and what institutions) do you let know you have diabetes, and who (or where) do you choose to keep in the dark.

1. To disclose or not disclose: do(es) your employer/school/friends know you have diabetes? Why or why not?

The company which employs me does not know that I have diabetes; several people at work (including my supervisors) do. There is neither place nor reason to mention diabetes (or any disability) on the job application — I believe it's actually illegal in the US to inquire before hiring — and since hiring/firing decisions are made at the store level, accommodations must be discussed and/or made at that level, rather than the corporate level.

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I asked Charlie if he wanted to write another blog post for Blogabetes.

"Neh," he said. "I'm out of material."

He unraveled a long strand of red and white bakers twine from a large, round roll and carefully laid it out along the kitchen counter.

"Nothing?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Yeah, me too," I said. "I'm out of material."

Charlie eyeballed about three feet and snipped the twine with scissors.

"You have anything for me to write?" I asked. "Any diabetes news?"

He answered immediately, never taking his eyes off the twine as he tested its pull and elasticity; dangling it as if operating a marionette.

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In most people with diabetes, lows occur either because we've overcalculated the amount of insulin we need, or because of an impaired, inhibited, or insufficient glycogen response. While this is obviously an oversimplification, I remember reading that either autoimmunity or modern insulins did weird things to the glycogen response in people with type 1 diabetes, and I know that at least one class of oral diabetes drugs works by inhibiting, if not completely blocking, that response. Then there's the issue of undereating, or not eating sufficiently, for there to be glycogen stores that can be easily converted to fuel our bodies — and, of course, drugs such as glipizide which work by stimulating additional insulin release.

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Today, the first Friday of February, is national "Wear Red" day in honor (or observance) of Women's Heart Health Awareness, as spearheaded by the "Go Red for Women" campaign. So of course I will be wearing red to work and I've been handing out Red Dress pins.

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Finding a new endocrinologist has proven to be quite interesting. First, my insurance apparently doesn't have a whole lot of options in my area (or maybe my area doesn't have a whole lot of options in general), especially in the female category. I had about 4 choices, one of which I'm currently seeing.

If you hadn't heard, I decided to change my endo because of a recent mess up regarding my test strip prescription that has me scrambling for more strips to last three months. This was the straw that broke the camel's back after two appointments with her that just didn't go as I'd like. She is a competent doctor, but she isn't the kind of doctor that I'm looking for.

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I wish there was a number to call when in need of diabetes-related assistance while on the road; the diabetes equivalent of AAA.

We were about 45 minutes into our 1 hour trip to my mother's house Sunday when we threw the diabetes bag into the back seat and asked Charlie to test his blood sugar.  This came after Charlie said he was thirsty and felt high.

"330," he said.

Having played hockey that morning, this presented yet another anomaly in the never-ending saga of life with diabetes.  This would normally be his low period of the day. But it wouldn't be the first time he was over 300. It was nothing a healthy blast of insulin couldn't cure.

That is, if we had insulin.

Charlie patted himself down.

"I'm not wearing my pump."

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