food

I Break For Coffee

Hangry

It’s hard to describe, and even differentiate sometimes, the difference between having a low blood sugar and just running on pure empty from not eating all day.

All week, since Daylight Savings Time kicked in, I have been trying to outrun the clock and get to work on time. I love DST, don’t get me wrong, but it’s really hard to get up in the morning when it’s still dark outside.

Okay, who am I kidding? It’s hard for me to get up in the morning whether it’s dark outside or not.

Yesterday morning was no different. Running late, I brushed my teeth, grabbed my work gear, made certain that I wasn’t walking out of the house with flip flops and pajama pants on, and hit the road.

I realized when I grabbed my messenger bag out of my car that it was lighter than usual. Turns out I had left my lunch (leftover white bean chicken chili from dinner the night before) at home. It happens, right?

This wouldn’t normally be a problem, but I have a habit (a good habit, if you’re viewing things from my employer’s perspective) of getting to work and throwing myself into things and not stopping. I’m notorious for working through lunch, skipping breaks, and looking at the clock to surprisingly discover that it’s mid-afternoon and I haven’t seen the outside of my office all day. The only thing that I will consistently break for is coffee.

I Break For Coffee

After my second cup of coffee…okay, third cup…maybe fourth cup…I realized that I was pretty much plowing through my day of meetings, emails, phone calls, and one-armed library dragon training. Once I was done, and those dragons were tamed well enough to stamp due dates in library books like they were born with that one lonely arm to do just that instead of burn villages and terrorize innocent monks (Trogdor!!!), I called it a day and headed home.

Now, I knew I had been moderately low all day. I’m back to wearing my Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM) again, after a slight hiatus from all the beeping and bonking and wee-ooo-wee-ooo-wee-ooo alarms waking me up in the middle of the night, and it had warned me off and on all day that I was hovering around 75 mg/dl. Still, I didn’t stop to treat it or deal with it. I just kept working.

When I got home, A-Flizzle and our pal EriCAH were there, so I started preparing dinner. Yay, food!

I kept noticing that I was agitated with everything, but I didn’t have the sense to question why. Cutting the chicken and vegetables, I was seething. Trying to figure out how to make the chicken stock thicker, I was fuming. When I realized that we only had a single serving of rice, I was mulling over what it would be like to throw the refrigerator off a cliff. It was so ridiculous that I was getting on my own nerves. I must have been driving A-Flizzle and EriCAH crazy.

That was when I realized I had reached my limit. I was low. I was hungry. I was angry. I was HANGRY! And I was making dinner and the food was too raw to eat immediately. Oh, the agony! The horribleness! The tragedy!

Eventually dinner finished, and we all got to experience my chicken thai curry science project of a meal, but it was a great example of how normal for some people isn’t normal for those of us with diabetes. There are times that we absolutely MUST stop and eat. Going all day long without eating is dangerous, and in hindsight, I’m probably lucky that I didn’t have a sneaky low that left me sitting in my office in a pile of sweaty, shaky, confused nonsense with a co-worker telling me, “Drink your juice Shelby!”

I’ll probably do it again though. Because I’m stubborn like that.

Cake or Death?

If you have diabetes, regardless of type, it is inevitable that at some point you have encountered some form of THE question…

“Can you eat that?”

Sometimes it takes on the shape of “Should you be eating that?” or “Is that good for your diabetes?” or “I’m eating for two, even though I’m a dude, so why are you eating that when I was counting on eating your share?!”

When I’m asked this question, sometimes I will respond with some well-deserved diabetes education. “Yes, I can eat this. I just have to know how many carbs (carbohydrates) are in it, and what my blood sugar is, so that I can give myself the correct amount of insulin to keep my blood sugar from spiking too high due to not enough insulin, or going too low because I dosed too much.”

That is usually enough to get either understanding or slightly confused looks of acceptance. Math and science, for the win! And truthfully, I’m typically happy to educate. I like it when people learn about real life with diabetes.

If I’m in a mood though, or if I’m having a low BG (low blood sugar) and don’t have the patience for a diabetes learnin’ session, I might just respond with a snotty little question of my own, such as, “Should YOU be eating that?” That’s always a show stopper, as the guilty party takes that last bite of chocolate cake and shamefully makes their way back to the other room while I feel only slightly guilty with my shaky, moody, slightly confused, sweat-drenched self. Cake or death? Whatever, I’ll apologize later…GIVE ME CAKE!

Since I got my CGM (continuous glucose monitor), even more questions have been introduced to my world with diabetes. A-Flizzle is getting good at recognizing the different tones of the CGM alarms, but most people around me and my beeps and bonks aren’t able to decipher if I’m low, high, have a low reservoir, a low battery, or if I just forgot to hit “OK” after my last BG (blood glucose) check. Still, I’m glad when it beeps and they stop to ask, “What does that alarm mean?” It doesn’t matter to me if they were able to define the alarm or not. What matters was that they heard it, and recognized that it was diabetes related, so that if I need something, I have their attention. Diabetes win!

Another diabetes win happened this past weekend when A-Flizzle was supervising, I mean, helping me organize my diabetes supplies. While sifting through test strips, glucose gels, infusion sets, and alcohol swabs, we came across this little gem when I got my paws on a fresh box of CGM sensors.

Cake and CGM Sensors

Do you see it? Look a little closer.

Cake (forget the CGM sensors)

Cake! On a diabetes supply container! For a device that helps monitor glucose levels!

Cake or death, you ask? CAKE! Definitely, cake.

Big Success

Geek, Party Of One

National Health Blog Post Month, Day 27: Quote Unquote. Grab a quote from this site (type in any word – see what comes up!) and use that quote to set your writing.NHBPM_2011_Day27

“The twenty-first century will be different. The human species, along with the computational technology it created, will be able to solve age-old problems of need, if not desire, and will be in a position to change the nature of mortality in a postbiological future.” – Ray Kurzweil, The Age of Spiritual Machines

One of my favorite bands, Our Lady Peace, released an album in 2000 titled Spiritual Machines that was inspired by concepts from the book “The Age of Spiritual Machines” by Ray Kurzweil. After hearing the album, I was as intrigued as the guys in the band, and had to dig a little deeper.

There are many quotable passages in the book, and in different scenarios it appeals more than others. I make no bones about the fact that I am a tech geek. I love and live technology. I can spend way too much time keeping up with tech news, advancements, and creative ways that people use technology to solve real world problems. This book was right up my geeky alley.

If you have diabetes, especially Type 1 diabetes, you probably walk around with a myriad of technology at any given time. This does not speak to everyone (or every type of person with diabetes, YDMV), but it isn’t unheard of to hear of someone walking around several devices attached to them or nearby that are helping them to make decisions that keep them alive.

I’m an example. I have a continuous glucose monitor (CGM) that gathers information from a flexible sensor residing just under my skin and a wireless transmitter. My CGM is integrated with my insulin pump, and helps me to maintain better control with my blood glucose (BG) levels by tracking trends so that I can see when my BG is rising or falling.

My insulin pump is connected to me via a similar type of cannula, though this one is linked to my pump via a nearly three foot tube. My insulin pump, powered by battery and programmed to my individual insulin needs, doses very small amounts of insulin around the clock through that tube, with bigger doses occurring when I eat a meal or have a high BG that needs correcting. I also carry around a standard issue fingerprick BG kit that tells me what my BG is at any given time with more accuracy than my CGM alone.

I have other, more multipurpose pieces of technology that I use to help me manage my life with diabetes as well. I have my cell phone (smartphone) and iPad that I use to look up carbohydrate info, keep in touch with the Diabetes Online Community (DOC), and search for other info that I might need on the fly to better manage my diabetes. One of my favorite apps to use when carb counting is the Go Meals app, especially when I go out to eat.

I feel like, in many ways, Kurzweil’s vision of a 21st century where computational technology is used to change the nature of mortality has already come true, though we still have miles to go before we sleep. When I was diagnosed with diabetes over 30 years ago, the information and data that we have today was simply not available. Now, we can figure out how many carbs are in a meal at a restaurant by the time a server can return to the table with our drink order. The swiftness of information is only going to get better, and the quality will continue to improve as well.

I’m excited to see what is next with technology used to live with and manage this disease, and how our world with diabetes will continue to evolve. I believe that one day there will be a cure, but until then, I am thankful that technology keeps improving to keep us alive and well until we get there.

Big Success

This post was written as part of National Health Blog Post Month (NHBPM) – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J

National Health Blog Post Month

Martin and Mom - 2006

Bummin’ Around

National Health Blog Post Month, Day 18: A comment as a blog post. Pick someone else’s post (from the past or from today) and write a comment to them. Write that comment as your blog post for today. Link back to them to let them know you were inspired.NHBPM_2011_Day18

Yesterday, I was reading through the “Let It Be” themed blog posts, and one really stuck out to me. Jen, over at Blood, Sweat & Carbs, wrote about the fear that so many parents have when raising a child with Type 1 diabetes. Jen’s words are real, and vivid, and I know something that every single parent of a child with diabetes thinks about, but never wants to admit. For some reason, Jen’s fear reminded me of a story that I haven’t thought about in awhile.

One morning in my early 20’s, I woke up all alone, in a strange bed, cold, in a room well lit with fluorescent lights, covered with nothing but a thin sheet, wearing only a pair of shorts, and staring at the clock on the wall above the door, trying my best to figure out when and where in the world I was. Turned out I was in the emergency room, having had a severe low blood sugar and seizure early that morning.

My dad would always call me in the mornings when he was working off the coast of Louisiana on oil rigs, and he later said that I had answered the call, but then he heard a crack and the phone went dead. The crack was my head hitting the kitchen floor. My girlfriend at the time heard the commotion, found me in the floor, and called 911.

After the ambulance ride and whatever the doctors did in the ER to get me back to good, my girlfriend and my college roommate finally invaded my room in the ER after having been told to wait in the lobby for a time. It wasn’t long before my mom and grandma, who lived an hour and a half away, also showed up. I remember being happy to tears that they were all there, and that I wasn’t alone anymore. Hospitals are scary when you’re that low. Heck, the entire world is scary when you’re that low.

It was still relatively early morning when I was discharged from the ER. I was starving, so we all went to McDonald’s to get breakfast. And who doesn’t love McDonald’s breakfast? No one. It’s awesome. Anyway…

While we were in line, a homeless man asked my mom if she could spare a few dollars so that he could get some breakfast. Thankful that I was okay, and in the spirit of blessings, my mom didn’t hesitate to give the man a bit of the cash for him to get himself some food with. The disheveled man promptly took the money and headed for the door, where his friend was waiting, so that they could most likely go buy themselves some booze instead.

Seeing this, my mom marched after him and grabbed him by the collar before he could get out the door and told him, “Now, I gave you money because you were hungry and wanted breakfast, and I just picked up my son from the hospital and we are thankful to be alive this morning. I didn’t give you money to go blow it on booze and cigarettes.” She then proceeded to walk the man to the counter at McDonald’s, as if he was a six year old boy, and made him order breakfast for him and his friend. Then she took her change back and sent them on their way with a paper bag full of hot McDonald’s goodness.

Back where me, my girlfriend, and my grandma were sitting, we couldn’t stop laughing at the spectacle of my mom making this bum unexpectedly order him and his friend breakfast. To this day, that story that started out so frightening still brings a smile to my face.

I don’t know why Jen’s post made me think of it. Maybe just to illustrate that diabetes is what it is, and it is going to throw a curveball in the direction of all of us at some point. The key is to be ready, and to be thankful for all the times that diabetes doesn’t win, which hopefully far outnumber the more fearful moments. Remember that, as a parent, it is your reaction to diabetes that your child will remember and learn to mimic, and will carry with them through life.

And also, never give a bum money at McDonald’s. Walk him to the counter and make him order breakfast instead. (Thanks Mom!)

Martin and Mom - 2006

Me and Mom (2006)

This post was written as part of National Health Blog Post Month (NHBPM) – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J

National Health Blog Post Month

Numeracy

Unconscionable Numeracy

Last week at the 6th Annual Education Forum on Diabetes Prevention & Management conference, I witnessed clinical healthcare professionals learning and sharing about the impact of diabetes, issues from the patient perspective, issues from the healthcare professional perspective, and enough data and PowerPoint slides to make Bill Gates proud.

Two presentations really stood out to me. As a person with type 1 diabetes, or a type 1 diabetic if you prefer (you say “noo-tella,” I say “nuh-tella”), I gravitated toward those portions of the conference that I could identify with the most. I like hearing various perspectives of my particular flavor of diabetes, especially from the side of people who work with and deal with diabetes without having the disease themselves.

First, there was a presentation about numeracy.

Numeracy: adjective; able to use or understand numerical techniques of mathematics.

In other words, numeracy is the ability to understand and use numbers in our day-to-day lives. Those of us with diabetes, especially type 1 diabetes, do it all the time, seemingly without thinking because we’ve done it for so long that it has become almost habit. We can do carb and blood sugar math like it’s nobody’s business! For example, I know that my insulin to carb ratio is 1:8. That means if I have a meal or a snack with 20 grams of carbs, I’m going to have to take 2.5 units of insulin to cover it so that my blood sugar doesn’t spike and make my head explode. (Not really, but my blood sugar will go high, and I hate, hate, HATE being high.)

I loved this presentation because the presenter really linked it to the patient perspective of living with diabetes. She highlighted the fear of all the numbers that sometimes paralyze us to take action. That applies no matter what type of diabetes you have. She said, “Something that healthcare providers have to realize is that if we make a mistake in math in our checkbook, it’s really no big deal, but if a type 1 makes a diabetes math mistake, they can die.” There is not a lot of room for mathematical forgiveness with type 1 diabetes.

Numeracy

The next presentation I went to was awesome because the presenter was my endo. I love my endo, so pardon me a minute while I gush. I really appreciate him because, even though he doesn’t have diabetes himself, he gets what it is like to live with diabetes as well as anyone I have ever met. He was sharing with the room some of his experiences with helping children and parents adjust and learn to live life with type 1 diabetes. Having grown up with diabetes myself, since age 2, I could appreciate a lot of the stories he had to share; many of them could have been about me.

He opened his presentation by telling every single diabetes and healthcare professional in the room that “it is absolutely unconscionable what we ask people with type 1 diabetes to do to stay alive.”

Unconsionable: adjective; not in accordance with what is just or reasonable.

Yes, yes, and more YES! I’m paraphrasing here, but he explained that sustaining the constant counting and checking and pricking and poking and dosing and everything else it takes to live with diabetes is really not reasonable or realistic. He said, “Albert Einstein said that doing the same thing twice and expecting different results is the definition of insanity,” then added, “…except with diabetes.” A person with diabetes can do the same exact thing and eat the same exact foods for two days in a row and get totally different results. The best that can be hoped is that people with diabetes will do as much as they can.

Something that I’ve always appreciated about him, and the reason he is still my endo even though I am 32 years old (still a kid at heart people, don’t get it twisted!), is because of the perspective he shared at the end of his presentation. He said that in his practice, he refuses to tell a person with diabetes to “test” a blood sugar. A test you can pass or fail. A blood sugar check is just a check, returning a number that is neither good or bad, just possibly something that needs to be addressed. All these numbers that come with diabetes are just data. Just. Data.

What we have to do to live with diabetes may sometimes be unconscionable, but the numbers that we see staring back at us should never be that. We have to learn to use all of these numbers in our diabetes world to make decisions, and react to the best of our abilities.

That has to be enough.

Stop Diabetes

Resolved

Last Friday I had the privilege of attending the 6th Annual Education Forum on Diabetes Prevention & Management in Tallahassee, Florida. Throughout the day there was talk about all of the various types of diabetes and their differences, along with the growing number of diabetes diagnoses, the obesity epidemic, the lack of education about the beneficial impact of fitness on the human body, and other topics.

One discussion panel consisted of diabetes educators from rural areas, mostly working with their local health departments rather than a diabetes center of some sort. Each of the professionals shared what their communities were doing to educate people who are at risk for Type 2 diabetes, to help those with any type of diabetes to get the resources that they so desperately need, and to help them navigate the often confusing world of healthcare.

One of the panel members, like so many others that took to the microphone throughout the day, spoke about her personal connection to diabetes and how important it is to her. My ears always perk up when I hear someone sharing their diabetes story. We all have a unique diabetes story, and we find common ground in our shared experiences in living with diabetes on a daily basis.

I heard this panel member trying to share her connection with diabetes from her rural perspective, and her view of the importance of education and helping people to learn the skills they need to effectively live with diabetes. She said, “I understand, because I used to have diabetes, but mine has been resolved. My husband still has diabetes, so it is very important to me.”

I looked up from my iPad, where I was taking notes, and probably had a look of “Huh?” written all over my face. “Used to have diabetes?” I’ve always been taught that there is no cure for diabetes, regardless of what type you have. Sure, there are options if you have Type 2 diabetes, including lifestyle changes and medications, but you still have diabetes even if you are able to avoid medications. Diabetes is a progressive disease, and you have to stay on top of it in whatever way works best for your unique situation. They don’t say “your diabetes may vary” for nothing. For Type 1, there is far less gray area for lifestyle adjustments: Insulin or death, pick one.

At first it agitated me that this woman, a diabetes educator, a representative expert on diabetes in her rural community, was proceeding and educating others with the presumption that diabetes was something that could be “resolved.” To me, that implied that diabetes was somehow the fault of the patient, which is not always true, and certainly is not a fair assumption without looking at many other aspects of the individual’s health. Initially, it felt to me like she was blaming her patients for having Type 2 diabetes, which I do not agree with.

Blame does nothing but remind someone of the circumstances that they are in. Blame looks into the past, not the future, and keeps us focused on what we should have done, as opposed to what we can do now.

I said at first it agitated me, because the more I thought about her words and her perspective, the more I came to realize that maybe her choice of words is a direct reflection of the rural community she is trying to help. Rural communities are often lower income, lower educated, often economically challenged, and without extensive healthcare options within the community area. Given this, for the people with diabetes that she is trying to help, it may be easier and more effective in managing diabetes within the community if they proceed with the idea of:

Losing weight + eating healthy + exercise = diabetes resolved.

As opposed to:

Medications = I have diabetes.

I know this equation doesn’t work for everyone, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, because maybe it works for a majority of the patients in her care. Thinking about it from that perspective, it is certainly a lot easier to inspire people to take care of themselves when they can have a goal of “diabetes resolution.” For a rural community that simply does not have the resources to help every single person with Type 2 diabetes, and the community members themselves may not be able to afford medications, prevention and “resolution” may be the most effective options.

At first I wanted to jump up and say, “There is no cure for diabetes! You can’t give people that false hope! That isn’t fair!” Then I thought about it some more, and even if we find hope and can place our faith in things that under a microscope may not be completely accurate, if it gets us to a better place where less people are dying from diabetes, then I can certainly accept that bigger win in the long term.

Stop Diabetes

The New World Of Martin

Back On Track

188. That is the number that greeted me Saturday when I stepped on the scale to see just how bad things were. After making significant progress in losing some of my heft, making as much progress as getting down into the mid-170’s by June of this year, at the beginning of July I had a bad diabetes moment, and despite my intentions to throw myself back into exercise and eating low carb, I’ve really lost focus.

My clothes fit a little more tight than they used to, and certainly more tight than I want them to. I look at myself in the mirror and I’m not happy with what I see. I want to look and feel sexy, and make the mistake of asking my reflection for my phone number when I walk by. I need to get new clothes too, as most of my clothes are well worn, some even with holes in them. But I refuse to go buy them when I’m at a weight and size that I’m not happy with. I don’t want to buy the size clothes that I am. I want to buy the size clothes that I want to be.

I’m also tired all the time. I don’t really sleep that much, and when I do it is restless and dream filled. Part of that is because I’m stressed all the time. I feel like I have for more to do than I have time to do it, all the time. It’s not just work, or life at home, or people I need to see, or things I need to do. It’s just the culmination of everything. It’s as if I can never get enough accomplished, and despite my generally optimistic view of the world, lately I feel frustrated because I end every day with a list of things I didn’t get done.

My eating habits are just plain gross since July. When I had my seizure, I really chewed up my tongue and mouth. For two weeks I could only eat soft foods like macaroni and cheese, applesauce, soft cookies, breads, and sometimes soup if it wasn’t too hot. Because I could barely chew or move food around in my mouth with my tongue, it completely broke down my low carb routine that I had been sticking with and was doing so good at keeping up. Now, because my routine changed, I’ve gotten accustomed to foods that I can eat fast, because I don’t have a lot of time to stop and put together a meal that is healthy and good for me. Rather than a breakfast made of something in the 20 grams of carbs or less family, I end up grabbing the blueberry or banana nut muffin that is 58 grams of carbs, just because it is fast, easy, and available. Rather than opt for a healthy salad or protein heavy lunch and taking time to pause and use both hands to enjoy it, I end up with the carb loaded option that I can eat with one hand so I can continue working with the other.

Emotionally, because I feel so far off track, I’m not happy. Sure, I still have a good time with friends, when I can find the time to get to hang out with them at least. A-Flizzle and I still enjoy doing things together. It’s not a social unhappiness, but rather a disappointment in myself for putting back on nearly all of the weight that I was so proud of myself for losing in the first half of this year. I don’t like the way I look, and I don’t like the way I feel.

So, all that said, the first step is looking at the situation objectively and admitting that there is a problem. Now what?

I looked over my 2011 goals, and I still have a lot of work to do, but I’m not severely off track. I got my A1C down, I joined a gym and started taking spin classes to have a group of people to regularly pedal with, I paid off my insulin pump, I’ve gotten to have adventures in Washington D.C., New York, New Orleans, Tampa, Orlando, Jacksonville, and I celebrated 30 years with diabetes and jumped out of an airplane.

I still struggle with wearing my CGM every single day, I haven’t ran a 5K, I haven’t made it to the dentist yet this year, and obviously (given the topic of this blog post) I haven’t made it to my goal weight yet.

I’m making an effort to be transparent. I want others to know that diabetes isn’t easy, but there are other things in life with and without diabetes that are also challenging. I’m going to get back on track. Maybe it’s shallow, but I want to look in the mirror and like what I see, so much that I throw dollar bills at my reflection.

Starting yesterday, I’m back in the gym. My BG’s are better when I’m active and working out, my disposition is more positive, and in time it will all translate to a lower number on the scale and a higher number on the miles I can go on my bike and the things I can accomplish with my body. I have to make time to do this, for me, and I have to stick with it, stay motivated and encouraged, and share my progress. That means my friends on Twitter and Facebook get to endure my constant status updates about my gym adventures, how I’m in spin class, working on my core, flexing in front of the mirrors, and looking like a complete amateur with my weak self trying to bench press and look all hard in front of all the juice heads.

I may not accomplish every one of the goals I’ve set for 2011, but I’m okay with that. If you achieve every single goal you set, you’re not setting them high enough.

I will feel better about myself and my body. I will get back to liking what I see in the mirror, enough so that I sneak my reflection a high five or a wink when nobody else is looking.

Right now I’m telling myself, “Self! You can do this.” And I will too.

The New World Of Martin

Lying Sweet Potatoes

Never Trust A Sweet Potato

Wednesday was one of the hardest days with diabetes I’ve had in awhile. Well, at least since this day, which actually wasn’t that long ago. But anywho…

This episode began on Tuesday night, when I noticed that my blood sugar was stubbornly high after having dosed enough insulin to take down a small rhino. I thought I had dosed correctly for the sweet potato that I had for dinner, but apparently sweet potatoes put on a good show, with their sweet and seductive scent, but they are actually full of lies and half-truths when it comes to their nutritional info.

Lying Sweet Potatoes

This is a Public Service Announcement: Sweet potatoes are not to be trusted!

I woke up with a BG of 235 mg/dl on Wednesday morning, which I attributed to the fact that I probably didn’t dose enough before bed. Not a huge deal, go-go-gadget correction bolus, and it was off to work I went.

The correction bolus should have done the trick. Instead, my BG wavered a little, but mostly it just hovered in the mid 200’s all morning. For some, that isn’t that high and they can go all day long in that range and not be out of sorts. For me, it made me want to dig a hole and throw myself into it. I’m accustomed to numbers closer to the 90-100 range. I had a headache, I was nauseous, I felt like someone had replaced my blood with syrup, my insides ached, I had no energy, I wanted to go lay down, and all I could focus on was how awful I physically felt.

After giving the insulin plenty of time to work, and still being high, I corrected again. I wondered if maybe the morning BG spike had also included the dawn phenomenon, along with the errant sweet potato bolus, so maybe that was why my BG was being stubborn and not dropping down to normal.

I tried to get into working and distract myself from the awfulness I was feeling, and give the whole situation a little time to work itself out. Apparently it worked too well, because by lunch I had dropped down to 45, after ignoring my CGM alarm and then getting busy and forgetting about it. For future reference to you CGM-ers out there, don’t do that.

Lately I’ve been working through lunch, only to look up at the clock and realize it is mid-afternoon and I haven’t stopped to eat yet. Since I was at 45 and low brain had kicked in with full force, I quickly grabbed some chicken nachos for lunch. I figured there would be enough carbs in that to cover the 45, but not so many that I couldn’t easily manage a proper insulin dose for it.

I thought I dosed properly for it. I even looked up the nutritional info online. Still, I was back up to 245 by the end of the workday, and also back to feeling like someone had replaced my insides and physical well-being with frustration flavored Jell-O.

I remained sky high for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. By 8 o’clock that evening, I was physically ill. I thought I was dropping at one point, and that it was safe to eat and dose for dinner, so I had one serving of eggplant parmesan so I didn’t skip a meal and end up low again. Unfortunately, the eggplant parmesan had much more of an effect on my blood sugar than the insulin I had dosed to cover it.

I can’t say for sure, but I really think I spent all night and day dealing with insulin that had lost its mojo, its libido, its life force, its essence, its right stuff. What the French call a certain… I don’t know what.

Once I got home, I cracked open a cold one (a new vial of insulin, that is), refilled my pump, and my BG’s since then have been rock solid and right where they are supposed to be.

Moral of the story: Beware of skunky insulin. And never trust a sweet potato.

Diabetes Art Day 2011 - Family

The Big & Small of Diabetes

Diabetes is sometimes larger than life.

Big Prescriptions

There are all these really BIG prescriptions, written with really BIG pens.

Big Fingersticks

Then you've got all these BIG tests you have to take.

Big Pizza

Sometimes you get to eat really BIG food.

Big Shots

But then you have to take really BIG shots.

Big Success

And if you do it right, you end up a BIG success.

All the BIG things that go along with diabetes are important, but it helps to remember the small stuff too.

As A-Flizzle reports…

I think most people would consider me creative, but not artistic. I love crafts, but I also like detailed instructions on how to get it “just like the picture.” What can I say? I have OCD and am a type A personality to a tee. Nevertheless, I was very excited when Martin asked me to participate in Diabetes Art Day and make something that expressed how I feel about being a Type Awesome. I feel like the whole undertaking of the craft project brought us closer together and, of course, was so much fun!

Diabetes Art Day 2011 - Family
This is what I consider my “family” (featuring Martin’s dog, Hopper, but absent my dog, Bindi and Martin’s cat, Squirt) and how sometimes I feel like Martin is in a bubble with his diabetes, where he takes on too much all on his own and no matter how supportive I am (as evidenced by my “Good Job” ribbons) there will be some things I just can’t and don’t “get.” This is perfectly okay, but a hard pill for me to swallow, as I am a fixer and like to take care of people. In the end, I think we are both continuously working to pop the bubble and find a greater understanding that while it’s his disease, we are in this together.

Pump Double Vision

Double Vision

So last night after work was fun. I left the office on time and made a beeline to the grocery store. That means I went directly to the store, without passing Go, and without collecting $200, for those of you that aren’t familiar with insect street slang. I wandered around the store looking for Italian bread crumbs, tomato sauce, and rat poison. Yes, I have strange grocery lists. You should see what happens when I go shopping for birthday gifts.

After the grocery store, I stopped by my house to let the dog out and change out of my work clothes, then went over to A-Flizzle’s house so we could make dinner. We were trying an eggplant parmesan recipe that she found. Don’t worry, I couldn’t find rat poison at the store, so there was no foul play involved. Or fowl play, for that matter. Vegetarian, for the win!

When I got there, A-Flizzle had all of the ingredients and baking dishes and bowls and forks and spoons and knives (oh my!) out and ready to start putting the meal together. One problem: I couldn’t read the recipe. As I tried to study the paper, all I could make out were fuzzy words like “mix” and “lightly” and “weight watchers.” Wait a minute…Weight Watchers? Are you trying to tell me I’m…oh, nevermind. It’s just a recipe.

I stopped trying to read and went to my Adidas backpack (aka, man bag) that I carry everywhere with me and fished out my BG meter. Sure enough, 47. Well that explains why I couldn’t read anything. I found my glucose tab keychain and ate glucose tabs, and then went back to the kitchen and struggled through the recipe. The more I tried, however, the more my vision blurred, and eventually I was seeing complete double. I already have glasses! Cut me some slack here diabetes!

30 minutes later and an eggplant parmesan in the oven, I tested again, and BG was 74. Still, I had complete double vision. Defeated, I went and stretched out on the couch and just closed my eyes, determined to give my body a few minutes to catch up and get right.

Pump Double Vision

Just Sunday, A-Flizzle and I were out and about and I had a BG of 37 with absolutely no symptoms at all. She said to me tonight, “How is it that you can have a BG of 37 with no symptoms whatsoever and I’m the one freaking out, but then your blood sugar is 74 and you can’t even see clearly?”

Wait for it…

“Oh, I know why. It’s because you have diabetes.”

She’ll be here all week folks. Don’t forget to tip your waitress.