The past week has been intense, to say the least. I had three midterms, two of which I didn't feel prepared for up until about 5 minutes before the exam. And one of those was canceled so now I'm looking at three this week despite doing all the work for three last week. On top of that, I have homework assignments and meetings and bills due.

But the topper is that my leg infection from last week is no where near better. It actually got much worse Wednesday through Thursday. It finally started healing a little on Friday, but turned into an incredibly painful sore over the weekend. So now, I'm heading to the doctor bright and early in the morning hoping that isn't as serious as it feels.

Between the busy schedule and the infection, my blood sugars have been way too high. I even raised my Lantus today to combat the elevated glucose. Unfortunately, the crash that I was expecting didn't come in the form of blood sugars. (READ MORE)

Diabetes is a unique disease in many ways.

One way that I never really realized until recently is the guilt it places on the patient.

With other diseases, your doctor is in control of everything. Your medicine, how often you take it, and how much. But with Diabetes, the patient is the one who has to manage it. So when there is a problem, the patient gets blamed.

But is that fair? Sure, I know that I decide if I am going to take my insulin on time, or bolus correctly. I am the one who either chooses to exercise or not and eat healthy foods or not. Those are up to me.

But, tell me this, who is to blame when I take my insulin correctly, exercise, do everything right, and for no reason my blood sugar is 270?

  (READ MORE)

I was beyond thrilled when my depression didn't get any worse after No. 3 was born. For as miserable as I was after No. 1 and No. 2 were born, I felt absolutely fantastic.

I also felt for a long while that this was just the way it was going to be. That in order to feel something close to normal I'd need to take a pill once a day. No big deal considering all the other medications I was taking to be sort of close to normal.

I started to have episodes or days when I would be aggravated and super angry for no apparent reason. And then just like that I'd be fine. I started to look up symptoms of bipolar disorder thinking that having what amounted to rather extreme mood swings was a hallmark of bipolar. But after some research I decided that I did not have bipolar.

  (READ MORE)

My last post about depression had me talking a lot. I mean, I cut like 200 words out of that post to get it to a readable length and here I am still having things to say about depression.

So when I left off I was an unemployed mother of two who was going through some seriously taxing financial and emotional times. On a rare day when The Mr. and I had time alone (I actually think we had gone on a date!) I admitted to him and to myself that I was depressed. I started taking Prozac and feeling better. I felt better that it was a problem that was recognized and that I was finally able to take care of it.

No. 2 was about two and a half when I finally found a job (and just five blocks from home!); I continued on the Prozac knowing that it wasn't just being unemployed that was making me feel so miserable. (READ MORE)

I'm not really sure why I feel compelled to do this, but I do. It's important to me that you know that diabetes did not cause my depression. 

  (READ MORE)

This is not the post I planned to write this morning.

Having a nearly one-hour commute (everyone flees the city in the summer, so traffic is much, much lighter) often gives me a lot of time to think. This morning I thought about what a crappy mood I had been in on Sunday and that it had carried over to this morning.

I tried to blame it on the kids: a four-day weekend trying to keep the kids entertained and not arguing and generally not getting on my nerves is exhausting.

I tried to blame it on AF: though she has left the building.

  (READ MORE)