I haven't changed the lancet in my "finger sticker" for a couple days now. Surely I am not the only one around that does that!??. I changed it because I visited a friend this past weekend and, "he wanted to see what his blood sugar was." I know I am not the only one around that has gotten that request. Curious "non-diabetic" pals or acquaintances always want to, "see what it says for them". And then I give the explanation about what a "normal" range is and what the number that is displayed on the meter "means". It is all fine and dandy though. I kind of like taking the "teacher" role when this situation arises. It provides me the opportunity for one-on-one, and maybe even sometimes group presentations on diabetes. Maybe we could just call this "Diabetes 101". Diabetics around the world could start charging tuition for quick, on the spot, diabetes education classes! How does 5 dollars per person sound? (READ MORE)

Olivia asked me last night when she was going to have her next appointment at Joslin. I wasn't sure, but told her it should be coming up soon. (Must check into that, actually.) She said she wanted to ask the doctor something. When I asked her what she wanted to know, she said she wanted to talk about alternate site testing.

We've done this in the past, without much success. But looking at her fingers last night, I told her she really needed to try again. Her fingertips are mangled - they're covered with black dots and she said they really, really hurt.

Part of the problem is that she tests right on the pads of her fingers rather than on the sides. The endo has told her repeatedly to stop doing that, but Olivia doesn't listen. Now, though, she's having a lot of pain and she's going to have to do that.
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This post was supposed to go up during American Diabetes Month - like, two days ago.

But it's worth posting, even a little late.

"No (wo)man is an island..."

Ain't that the truth?

Every time I read a post about a scary low, or a child running from a parent with a needle or a pump set.  Every time I read a post about being exhausted by the stress of the constant battle that is diabetes, or a morning shower had in tears because it's just been "one of those nights." 

Every time I cry or laugh with someone who lives on the other side of the country, or the other side of the world. 

Every single time.  My heart swells. 

Just knowing that any time of day, I can pour my heart out and someone will be there to catch it.  To understand. (READ MORE)

One piece of cycling equipment I'm looking to procure is a small, inobtrusive frame pump. While for myself, I'm OK carrying spares and a compressed carbon dioxide (CO₂) inflator, this doesn't help much if I find myself as I did last summer, trying to assist a young man who had a blowout on a poorly-maintained BMX-style bicycle en route to work.

For the non-cyclist, the basics are this: my spare tubes were the wrong size for his bicycle. I had patches, but no way to tell where his tube might have had a leak. The compressed carbon dioxide inflator (which works on the same principle as home soda makers and whipped cream makers) doesn't provide the sort of short bursts of gentle pressure I need to find and fix a punctured tube.

Why, you may ask, am I worried about being able to assist someone else while I am riding?

  (READ MORE)