Can we be better caregivers? I guess. We can always be better. We were thrown into this diabetes life without much warning just like many of you. We were caregivers merely by having children, but care-giving on this level is a beast of another color.

On this day, six years ago, Charlie was diagnosed with diabetes. He was still slurping from a bottle. What is it about the fall? So many people are diagnosed this time of year.

The changing leaves. Halloween. Sunday football. Apple cider. Sweaters. Murder within the pancreas. All trademarks of autumn.

I was giving Maeve a bath when Susanne decided to take him to the hospital despite the pediatrician’s lackluster opinion on the matter.

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I'm staring at my logbook right now. I have no idea what to do. My averages are still above 200, although my baseline numbers are generally running between 160 and 180. Yet I'm still seeing numbers like 302, 264, or 270 crop up.

I raised my Lantus to 33 units last night and I woke up at 96 when I'd gone to bed at 224. I'm hopeful that 33 units might be the golden number with all this. If I could get my basal numbers to drop back into a normal range (I'm looking for under 150 at the moment), then my post-meal numbers wouldn't be spiking so high. Plus I could keep working on the post-meal numbers more extensively if those basal numbers dropped.

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I chanted: Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning.

I got up on time.

I did not go back to sleep. (Monday is easy, surprisingly.)

I left on time.

I did not freeze in the 45 degrees.

I pushed.

I coached.

I encouraged.

I praised.

I wondered where the Drill Sergeant was.

I looked for the coyote I've seen three times.

I was surprised my muscles didn't ache.

I praised.

I encouraged.

I walked for the first time in two weeks.

I breathed the cold air in deeply.

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Many of us have been a-twitter about World Diabetes Day, bringing attention to the epidemic proportions of Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes and the Big Blue Test. Seattle had a bike ride as did Victoria, BC. Philadelphia had an event at the Temple University School of Podiatric Medicine. Those of us in the New York City area celebrated with a huge D-Meetup and pizza party. The indefatiguable Allison set things up in a Midtown office building. At its peak, over 20 Type 1s, Type 2s, and Type 3s gathered to enjoy each other's company and take part in the Big Blue Test.

It's my time...to change my habits.

Numbers have been consuming my life in the past two weeks. Every time I turn around, a number pops up that leaves me feeling out of sync, exhausted, and completely burnt out. Averages like 241 or even 301 are consuming my logbook. Seeing numbers below 170 are a rare occurrence, with most riding in the upper 200 and 300 range.

The other side of the numbers is the insulin levels. I've raised my Lantus to 32 units in the evening now. And from that, I've had my first low in a week (and it was only a 72 after not eating for quite some time). I've also almost doubled my Humalog, which seems to be the biggest deterrent to those pesky 300's that I was seeing so regularly.

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I've lost 16 pounds in the past 7 months or so. The bulk of it was lost over the summer when I was working out on average four times a week. And the last few pounds slid off within the first month of school, with the increase in activity on a daily basis and the lack of frequent calorie consumption.

My clothes are baggy now. I have jeans from high school that I'm still squeezing into though, so I'm determined to lose a little bit more weight. My body feels better, looking in the mirror is much more appealing these days than it has been in the past. And I'm proud of myself for working so hard to make this happen.

So when I showed my mom a pair of pants that have about three inches to spare around the waist, her response threw me. "That's really great!" But it was followed with "Are you sure you're not losing weight because you're running high?"

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