For a variety of reasons that all add up to a perfect storm of unfortunate for yours truly, I have gone off my diabetes medications and shall be off of them for a few days. I ran out of both at the same time, and it happened on a weekend, and a holiday weekend, no less, so there was no one at my doctor's office to call. Furthermore, if I'd been paying attention (and really, why would I? It's only my health we're talking about here), I would have seen that I had no more refills on my prescription, meaning that in order to get more, I would need to make an appointment and go in to see my doctor again, which of course I should have done a few months ago, but my book came out and I've been busy being Mister Fancy Pants, etc. etc. etc., blah blah blah. Really, there are a number of excuses, but they all come down to my own personal dedication to being the very best cautionary tale I can be for the rest of you. No need to thank me, I do it out of love. (READ MORE)

How does it happen that life gets in the way of taking proper care of my diabetes? 

How does it happen that I can log faithfully - bloodsugars, food, activity, dosing - for months - and then - poof! (or more like thud!) - I just fall off the wagon?

How? 

Well.  I guess real life happens.

Last spring, I rededicated myself to my health and well-being.  I got into an exercise routine, I altered my eating habits, I committed to testing AND logging so that I could control my diabetes more effectively.  And, on a whole, these efforts paid off.  I lost about 50 lbs in a little over a year.  I improved my A1C.  I found myself with more energy and more stamina.  I actually started enjoying eating well, packing a lunch and taking in ample servings of fruits and vegetables. 

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Today is World Diabetes Day, by golly, although I doubt I'm going to get cake. (And how funny would that be? I'd eat it, too.) It does present a good opportunity to stop and actually assess my life as a diabetic.

I know, that's not politically correct. I am not supposed to self-identify as a diabetic. I am supposed to call myself a Person with Diabetes or a Swell Guy with a Complicated Pancreas or Blood Glucose Challenged or whatever. I suppose there's a newsletter that I should subscribe to in order to get the proper talking points. (READ MORE)

Sismoon

As a diabetic, I often feel like my life is an "Emergency Preparedness Commercial." You know the kind of commercials during hurricane season or right before huge winter storms? They tell everyone to have water, candles, nonperishable foods, a first aid kit, etc. That seems to be my life: constant preparedness. (READ MORE)

One day. I'll learn to start listening to that voice, the one that occasionally gives me advice, the voice that I largely ignore. It's a tiny little internal voice, coming (I presume) from a tiny little internal smart guy. In my imagination, he dresses much better than I do.

Let's call him... Tiny Rob.

Now, to be fair, Tiny Rob has a pretty spotty record. Sure, he may have been the one who sent me to the doctor five years ago, but he's taken more on-the-job vacations since then than George W. Bush. Tiny Rob has left me to my own devices for months at a stretch, only popping by occasionally to ask, "So, what'd I miss?"

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Thirty-three years ago this semester, the frequent repetition of those words (or others to that effect) by high school classmates led me to take an extra semester of English in the spring term of my senior year. Anyone stepping onto my school bus and smelling the pungent odor of marijuana burning would have easily understood the reasons behind their lack of preparedness to study.

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