It was one of those cute(sy) ADA magazines, with artwork done by(or to) type 2's scattered quite liberally through its pages.
(wait, there's ONE dedicated to a type 1-wow!)
There are some good things in there-things I'd like to get. The 2006 Gift of Hope ornament, for one.
But I'm not expecting any of my dollars to go toward type 1 research, more then likely
it'll go toward type 2. (I realize type 2 needs to be cured too, but the ADA likes its type 2's. The only reason we type 1's get the occasional recognition, is its still diabetes, and sometimes type 2's actually become more like type 1's...(need insulin) Type 2, is definatly more sexy. They can keep coming up with all these new,cool drugs, to blast the insulin resistance back into submission.
Whereas, with type 1, we're limited to plain old insulin...
A Diabetes Timeline
(an excerpt from that magazine-with a few embellishments)
1921 Doctors Banting and Best extract insulin from dog pancreases and use to successfully treat diabetes in dogs. (Nowadays, we do all our experiments on rats/mice,we'd be charged with cruelty to animals if we did it on dogs)
1922- Leonard Thompson, 14, is the first person to be treated with insulin.
1923- Commercial production of insulin begins.
1940- The American Diabetes Association is founded.
1948- The first issue of ADA's "Forecast" rolls off the press.
1949- Insulin is discovered to work like a key,transporting glucose into cells.
1950- Exchange lists for meal planning are developed by the ADA and the other National Food Nazi-ish groups by dividing foods into six groups, or "exchanges", based on the calories, carbohydrates, proteins and fats in each serving.
1950- Lente(type of insulin) comes out.(?)
1953- Tablets for testing urine glucose became widely available, and urine test strips appear over the next few years.
1954- The first successful kidney transplant is performed + dialysis machines really get perfected.(but not for the diabetic,on whom it is considered a "waste".)
1955- Sulfonylureas, oral medications that stimulate the pancreas to produce more insulin, are developed.
1959- Researchers differentiate the type 1's from the type 2's. ( C-peptide test?)
1961- Glucagon, an injectable treatment for hypoglycemia, is developed. (You mean that handy little kit has been in production for that long? Was it always white?(help me out here, long timers)
1964- The first strips for testing blood glucose by color code enter the market.
1966- The first sucessful pancreas transplant is performed.
1970-The first blood glucose meter is developed. Vitrectomy, a surgical procedure to restore sight to those with vitreous hemorrhage and retinal detachment, is first performed.
1971- The American Diabetes Association Gift of Hope program is developed and generates $5,000 its first year.
1973- U100 and syringes are released, to help reduce errors in insulin usage. (standardization)
1974- The National Diabetes Research and Education Act, the first such law in US history, requires the goverment to gather and disseminate diabetes research and information.
1975- Researchers in Scotland detect antibodies to islet cells in people with type 1 diabetes, supporting the idea that type 1 diabetes is caused bya nimmune system attack on pancreotic cells.
1976- Exchange lists are revised to allow for more individualized meal plans to to reflect research showing the need to reduce fat in the diet and not overly restrict carbohydrates.
1977- The Hemoglobin A1c test is devised as a rapid way to test overall blood glucose control over a three month period. (and our lives have never been the same since)
1978- Researchers introduce bacteria to produce Humulin, which is identical to human insulin. Until Humulin became available in 1982, patients relied on insulin from animal pancreases.Researchers achieve normal blood sugar levels in patients using insulin pumps.
1981- Self monitering of blood glucose becomes a standard part of diabetes care.
1984- Diet Mountain Dew hits the shelves, making many former Tab drinkers very, very happy..
1985- A National Eye Institute study shows that diabetic retinopathy can be sucessfully treated with laser photocoagulation.
1987- Three hundred pancreas transplants are performed in the United States.
1988- Blood pressure medications are shown to reduce protein in the urine and slow the progression of kidney disease.
1989- Steel Magnolias,
the movie that EVERY PWD knows and loves, is released.
1993- The Diabetes Complication and Control Trial shows that good blood glucose control can significantly reduce/stop diabetes complications.
1995- Carbohydrate counting is developed.
1996- The Red Cross changes its policy regarding type 1 diabetic donors, they are permitted to give blood(providing they've never taken animal insulin).
1996- Lispro, aka Humalog, is developed and immeadietly becomes vastly preferred to Regular. (although some diabetes clinics continue to use Regular F.O.R.E.V.E.R. longer... I didn't start Humalog, till 2000)
1997- Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes is defined by cause rather, then treatment. The fasting bg needed for diabetes diagnosis is lowered from 140 to 126. Rezulin, which makes muscle cells more sensitive to insulin, enters the market.
1998- Nicole Johnson (now Baker) sweeps diabetes into the national scene, by winning
the Miss America pageaunt. Definatly making diabetes the cool disease of the year.
1998- While (then) President Clinton is expressing his profound sorrows to the American People, one American Citizen has (much)weightier matters to reflect upon + doesn't much feel like reading about his.
2001- Islet transplants are first performed.
2002- The Diabetes Prevention Program trial results are announced, just 30 minutes a day of moderate activity coupled with a 5-10% weight reduction, reduces type 2 diabetes incidence by 58%.
2005- 7%(20.8 million) of the US population has diabetes. Another 41 million are estimated to have pre-diabetes.
2006- The Guardian RT + Dexcom are approved, making a few (lucky) PWD's very happy.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
Obesity Skyrockets in Small VA Town
Saturday,I contributed (greatly) to the obesity epidemic in America.
I sold Coke by the zillions(seemed like) at my yard sale. And at .30 apiece, I left my competitors smoking in the dust.(although rumor had it, there was someone else selling theirs for .25, must have been across town, as it didn't hurt my business though) Even at .30 each, one makes a .10 profit per can, and, per each 12 pack, you get a Coke Reward code.(worth .50 on Ebay- total profit per 12 pack, $1.50) Sold alot of Coke Zero too. I felt guilty selling that real Coke to some of the people(who would have been better off drinking Diet), but they would have bought it somewhere else anyway. Its like cigerettes + alcohol- people love their bad habits. So, heck, if it leaves them .20 more to put toward their future gastric bypass surgeries, it does make me feel a bit better about selling it to them. Some people will not touch Diet anything, before the big D came to call, I was that way too.
Didn't do too badly at the yard sale either, cleared over $150..
Started to rain, so I drug everything back into my house + went over to my neighbors yard sale. Got a couple of videos.
Then, I went to the mall, hit up Bath+Body Works for their latest deals(8 handpump soaps,1 lip gloss, 4 Spa lotions, and 1 room spray for $31), Target(buy 2 Almay soaps, get a $5 gift card-I got $25 in gift cards), Kroger(converted my spare change to an $15 Amazon gift Code), FYE($15 Itunes gift card w/purchase of $20 in cds), + Kmart(albuterol pickup,winter is a'comin).
I love bargains, I am a Bargainaholic.
- - - -
And in other Obesity News,
get ready for an all new Monopoly-Mc Donalds eat-a-thon to begin,
come October 3.
Last year, I got so throughly sick of McDonalds free food,(off winning
gamepieces, which have to be used up before they expire in Nov.)
I couldn't stand to look at the stuff for two months. I didn't quite eat the stuff
for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but I still gained 10 pounds + my blood pressure
was high.(usually, its very normal) Cholesterol was unaffected, fortuantly.
(though, I don't recommend a holiday checkup if you're on this food craze)
I sold Coke by the zillions(seemed like) at my yard sale. And at .30 apiece, I left my competitors smoking in the dust.(although rumor had it, there was someone else selling theirs for .25, must have been across town, as it didn't hurt my business though) Even at .30 each, one makes a .10 profit per can, and, per each 12 pack, you get a Coke Reward code.(worth .50 on Ebay- total profit per 12 pack, $1.50) Sold alot of Coke Zero too. I felt guilty selling that real Coke to some of the people(who would have been better off drinking Diet), but they would have bought it somewhere else anyway. Its like cigerettes + alcohol- people love their bad habits. So, heck, if it leaves them .20 more to put toward their future gastric bypass surgeries, it does make me feel a bit better about selling it to them. Some people will not touch Diet anything, before the big D came to call, I was that way too.
Didn't do too badly at the yard sale either, cleared over $150..
Started to rain, so I drug everything back into my house + went over to my neighbors yard sale. Got a couple of videos.
Then, I went to the mall, hit up Bath+Body Works for their latest deals(8 handpump soaps,1 lip gloss, 4 Spa lotions, and 1 room spray for $31), Target(buy 2 Almay soaps, get a $5 gift card-I got $25 in gift cards), Kroger(converted my spare change to an $15 Amazon gift Code), FYE($15 Itunes gift card w/purchase of $20 in cds), + Kmart(albuterol pickup,winter is a'comin).
I love bargains, I am a Bargainaholic.
- - - -
And in other Obesity News,
get ready for an all new Monopoly-Mc Donalds eat-a-thon to begin,
come October 3.
Last year, I got so throughly sick of McDonalds free food,(off winning
gamepieces, which have to be used up before they expire in Nov.)
I couldn't stand to look at the stuff for two months. I didn't quite eat the stuff
for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but I still gained 10 pounds + my blood pressure
was high.(usually, its very normal) Cholesterol was unaffected, fortuantly.
(though, I don't recommend a holiday checkup if you're on this food craze)
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Pinch me, Please
Last night, I had one of those bizzare diabetes dreams. Dreamed I was at work, half-listening to the familiar ramblings of my supivisor handing out orders like she lives in the White House.(Just like real life) She finishes, I move off to organize my work gear before starting in on the orders, not greatly enthused about starting.
I'm sitting there, minding my own business when my Ex-Endocrinologist walks by, confusing the heck out of me(since when did work turn into the hospital?and since when did he grow a beard?) + he sees me, walks over.
"Are you here for an appointment?"
"No-I'm not really sure what I'm here for." I know I should be working by now, my supivisor will be out on the war path in a minute. And I'm not sure why I'm suddenly clad in nice, black, funeral-ish looking dress attire.
He laughs.
"Are these your numbers?"
Before I can react, he's got The Notebook(#1) in hand, surfing through it in grand o'le style.
Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. Oh NOOO. (Neither of The Notebooks have ever been read by anyone else but me) Not him, not now.
Stuff starts to fall out of it.
"No-NOT my numbers," I reply, mortified to death.
"What is it then?"
"Uh, you know, just stuff. About diabetes. Diabetes stuff." I'm tongue tied now, throughly at a loss for words. Duck under table, start to pick papers up, partly to hide flaming red face.
He flips to the back.
Recall what I posted in the back- the title of one such section being "The Top Ten Types of Endocrinologists in their Natural Habitats." I doubt that he'd find that part very humerous.
His eyebrows go up, but not one word does he say, as he quickly scans the pages. I can't tell if he's amused, disgusted, or sorry he ever had me as a patient.
Mercifully, not one word about it does he ever say, as he stands up, says goodbye, and takes his leave.
I wake up, my heart pounding away(and my blood sugar a comfortable 100 mg/dl). What a nice dream.
If parts of The Notebook ever makes it to book form, there will definatly be two versions. The Type 1 version and the Medical Professional (friendly) version.
I'm sitting there, minding my own business when my Ex-Endocrinologist walks by, confusing the heck out of me(since when did work turn into the hospital?and since when did he grow a beard?) + he sees me, walks over.
"Are you here for an appointment?"
"No-I'm not really sure what I'm here for." I know I should be working by now, my supivisor will be out on the war path in a minute. And I'm not sure why I'm suddenly clad in nice, black, funeral-ish looking dress attire.
He laughs.
"Are these your numbers?"
Before I can react, he's got The Notebook(#1) in hand, surfing through it in grand o'le style.
Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. Oh NOOO. (Neither of The Notebooks have ever been read by anyone else but me) Not him, not now.
Stuff starts to fall out of it.
"No-NOT my numbers," I reply, mortified to death.
"What is it then?"
"Uh, you know, just stuff. About diabetes. Diabetes stuff." I'm tongue tied now, throughly at a loss for words. Duck under table, start to pick papers up, partly to hide flaming red face.
He flips to the back.
Recall what I posted in the back- the title of one such section being "The Top Ten Types of Endocrinologists in their Natural Habitats." I doubt that he'd find that part very humerous.
His eyebrows go up, but not one word does he say, as he quickly scans the pages. I can't tell if he's amused, disgusted, or sorry he ever had me as a patient.
Mercifully, not one word about it does he ever say, as he stands up, says goodbye, and takes his leave.
I wake up, my heart pounding away(and my blood sugar a comfortable 100 mg/dl). What a nice dream.
If parts of The Notebook ever makes it to book form, there will definatly be two versions. The Type 1 version and the Medical Professional (friendly) version.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Yamin Fan
2 months after I ordered it, the Richmond JDRF finally sent my t-shirt.
I love it. (Even though he lost, he's still my American Idol!)
- - - - -
Today, I also received the results of my latest a1c, and, it stunk. Really, really, stunk. At the end of the report, my endo added a note that if I needed any help on basal adjustments, just call her. I am now in the depths of despair, why I even care about the stupid thing is one for the debate club. I don't want any more a1cs, the only thing they accomplish is make me feel like 2 cents when I can't measure up to the gold standard. I'm serious about this, no more a1cs until I feel I can handle it emotionally. I'm aware that my endo(bless her) didn't want to really lay it on think on my very tender ego, but she didn't even need to. I feel terrible.
-------------------------
Once, there were two ipods. A pink ipod, and a blue ipod...
The pink ipod had a long + fufilling life, bringing great joy to its owner(each and every day, for the
next two years) Its only problem was, well, it was pink. Not exactly the owner's first choice, color wise. But considering where it came from, it was simpler just to keep it(and be glad that it worked). On the day the Pink Ipod died, the owner (who couldn't afford another new ipod) decided to do a little tinkering + combine elements/parts of another ipod to get the previously longed for BLUE Ipod.
The blue ipod came from CA, a Refurb-Retard-Return + in worse shape the the pink one. Who knows what its previous history consisted of. But one thing was obvious- this was a match that was meant to be.
This project, obviously, required a working knowledge of how an ipod is put together. And the owner is a total klutz at all things mechanical.
But eventually, it'll happen.
Match made in Heaven.
(The two, shall become one)
- - - - - -
I've woken up with reactions the past three nights, its so wonderful to be pulled from a dead sleep back into the instant demands of the diabetes world. Both waking up high, and low, make you feel like a overcooked spagetti noodle the next morning. 0.7 obviously needs to be cut down by .2...
Still no word from the gastro doc, I will have to call her + remind her that I do exist.
I love it. (Even though he lost, he's still my American Idol!)
- - - - -
Today, I also received the results of my latest a1c, and, it stunk. Really, really, stunk. At the end of the report, my endo added a note that if I needed any help on basal adjustments, just call her. I am now in the depths of despair, why I even care about the stupid thing is one for the debate club. I don't want any more a1cs, the only thing they accomplish is make me feel like 2 cents when I can't measure up to the gold standard. I'm serious about this, no more a1cs until I feel I can handle it emotionally. I'm aware that my endo(bless her) didn't want to really lay it on think on my very tender ego, but she didn't even need to. I feel terrible.
-------------------------
Once, there were two ipods. A pink ipod, and a blue ipod...
The pink ipod had a long + fufilling life, bringing great joy to its owner(each and every day, for the
next two years) Its only problem was, well, it was pink. Not exactly the owner's first choice, color wise. But considering where it came from, it was simpler just to keep it(and be glad that it worked). On the day the Pink Ipod died, the owner (who couldn't afford another new ipod) decided to do a little tinkering + combine elements/parts of another ipod to get the previously longed for BLUE Ipod.
The blue ipod came from CA, a Refurb-Retard-Return + in worse shape the the pink one. Who knows what its previous history consisted of. But one thing was obvious- this was a match that was meant to be.
This project, obviously, required a working knowledge of how an ipod is put together. And the owner is a total klutz at all things mechanical.
But eventually, it'll happen.
Match made in Heaven.
(The two, shall become one)
- - - - - -
I've woken up with reactions the past three nights, its so wonderful to be pulled from a dead sleep back into the instant demands of the diabetes world. Both waking up high, and low, make you feel like a overcooked spagetti noodle the next morning. 0.7 obviously needs to be cut down by .2...
Still no word from the gastro doc, I will have to call her + remind her that I do exist.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Three Pairs of Shoes
Ya know when you're just sitting at work, trying to get some work done + a blog idea pops into your head + you've just GOT to write it down, before it dissapears? That's what happened today, the Idea Central portion of my brain went into overdrive(for a couple of hours) + in between the essentials of the job, I snuck down notes like crazy.
the first idea was a poem...
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you'll see
The most depressing of specialties.
A disease we cannot cure, or even prevent
Only treat.
Like the aftermath of a hurricane
Or the rubble from an earthquake,
It has no match, it respects no one.
The demands we place would fill a library,
but ultimately guerentees nothing.
Daily, the sorrows + pain from this disease
fill the hospitals
and the doctor's offices
and the jails
and the nursing homes
and the preschools all across America.
It is hard
to know what to do, what not to do, if anything is helping.
Seeing the pain, it is hard not to yell at your patients about their "bad" numbers,
hoping to inspire them to better control.
Walking a mile in my shoes, you'll see that they need more then that.
They need you, to be their
-sounding board
-advocate
-blank check on the bank of diabetes knowledge
-much more...
Without the judgement, they've got too much of that in their lives already.
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you'll see
A happy family.
Mother, father, sister, brother, baby.
Night time has fallen, bedtime is near.
Snacks all around, the shot, and the little boy toddles off to bed.
This little piece of innocence
Tucked underneath his Superman covers.
Nothing can hurt him, his is still a child's world.
A childish voice, breaking the stillness
"Mommy, when will there be a cure?"
A tear, quick catch to the voice
"Soon, sweetheart."
The love that tucked him in that night
Will keep him safe till that cure.
Walk a mile in my shoes, and you'll see
The love of a parent knows no bounds.
Walk a mile in my shoes, and you'll see
A seasoned veteran.
They are mothers, fathers,sisters, brothers, husbands, wives AND grandparents.
Masters of the 1 minute infusion set changeout
And the checking your blood sugar level on the crowded freeway rush.
Many a refridgerator have they cleaned out, in their most vunerable hypoglycemic
(low blood sugar)
moments.
Yet, when the shaking ends, they stand back up, and go about their lives.
20 years, 30 years, 50 years- an entire lifetime.
They live their lives with courage, dignity, and grace.
Walk a mile in my shoes, and you'll see
That the future still looks bright, they've helped make it so.
the first idea was a poem...
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you'll see
The most depressing of specialties.
A disease we cannot cure, or even prevent
Only treat.
Like the aftermath of a hurricane
Or the rubble from an earthquake,
It has no match, it respects no one.
The demands we place would fill a library,
but ultimately guerentees nothing.
Daily, the sorrows + pain from this disease
fill the hospitals
and the doctor's offices
and the jails
and the nursing homes
and the preschools all across America.
It is hard
to know what to do, what not to do, if anything is helping.
Seeing the pain, it is hard not to yell at your patients about their "bad" numbers,
hoping to inspire them to better control.
Walking a mile in my shoes, you'll see that they need more then that.
They need you, to be their
-sounding board
-advocate
-blank check on the bank of diabetes knowledge
-much more...
Without the judgement, they've got too much of that in their lives already.
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you'll see
A happy family.
Mother, father, sister, brother, baby.
Night time has fallen, bedtime is near.
Snacks all around, the shot, and the little boy toddles off to bed.
This little piece of innocence
Tucked underneath his Superman covers.
Nothing can hurt him, his is still a child's world.
A childish voice, breaking the stillness
"Mommy, when will there be a cure?"
A tear, quick catch to the voice
"Soon, sweetheart."
The love that tucked him in that night
Will keep him safe till that cure.
Walk a mile in my shoes, and you'll see
The love of a parent knows no bounds.
Walk a mile in my shoes, and you'll see
A seasoned veteran.
They are mothers, fathers,sisters, brothers, husbands, wives AND grandparents.
Masters of the 1 minute infusion set changeout
And the checking your blood sugar level on the crowded freeway rush.
Many a refridgerator have they cleaned out, in their most vunerable hypoglycemic
(low blood sugar)
moments.
Yet, when the shaking ends, they stand back up, and go about their lives.
20 years, 30 years, 50 years- an entire lifetime.
They live their lives with courage, dignity, and grace.
Walk a mile in my shoes, and you'll see
That the future still looks bright, they've helped make it so.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Driving and Diabetes
The only high school class I ever took was Driver's Ed. (that being a class one can't exactly "pass" w/out the proper certifications)
It was the Summer of '98, and my mom decided it might as well be gotten over with. That, and the fact that the school system didn't allow homeschooled students to take it during the school year. Homeschooled students are the scum of the earth(in the eyes of the public schools).
So she enrolled me and my next younger brother in Classroom Driver's Ed.
That first day, we showed up (on time), nervous as heck about everything. (and intent on never, ever, ever revealing that we were weirdos from another planet).
This strategy backfired though(as it quickly became apparent no one else was intent on learning the stuff). Keep in mind that this was a summer class, for the previous semester's Flunkees. It was also a dual Gym class for the 9th grade students.(we didn't have to take that part)
As I couldn't let my younger brother beat me out, it was a battle to see who could get the most straight 100's. Our teacher must have thought she'd won the lottery,I recall her being extrordinarily nice to us. We both got A's (not a number grade), so the competition was kind of pointless, but still fun.
I got diabetes in that school.
There were the symptoms- thirst, hunger, frequent urination. To this day, I recall the location of every single water fountain, restroom, and drink machine on each of the school's three floors.
It was a six week class, sometime during those first couple of weeks those symptoms began.
And got worse.
August, September, October, November, December. I lost 30 lbs, great chunks of my hair fell out, my eyesight went blurry, among other things. If there was ever a weird symptom of the Great Undiagnosed D, I had it. In the interest of this being a Family Friendly Blog, I won't describe the rest of the symptoms.
Thanksgiving, 1998. After a huge dinner, my heart started doing weird palpatations + I didn't feel like going out to play the annual family Football slug-a-thon. Lay on the couch and wished I didn't feel so crummy.
That day in December, hooked to tubes/IV's/moniters. Realizing my life had just changed in practically every area, including driving. And the pediatric Endocrinologist, drilling the rules of good D care (as it pertains to being a responsible driver) into my thick head..
I got a new chapter in Driver's Ed that day, one that my brother + the other kids didn't have to take.
Don't drive if your blood sugar is under 90, pull over to the side of the road, eat, and recheck
in 15 minutes.
ALWAYS have a source of sugar on your person, and in your car..
Wear your medical indentification!
Check your blood sugar before driving, every 2 hours WHILE driving, and whenever you
think you may be low..
Don't drive when you're high,(over 600) that affects your thinking abilities as well.
Didn't have a choice about those either, my parents/ doctor saw to it that I walked the line.
But maybe it was for the best, at least it was drilled into my head along w/ everything else (driving related) + now its second nature. Maybe I did get diabetes at just the right time (earlier, and I'd have been a preteen self conscious disaster; later, and I've been out on my own w/out health insurance)
It was the Summer of '98, and my mom decided it might as well be gotten over with. That, and the fact that the school system didn't allow homeschooled students to take it during the school year. Homeschooled students are the scum of the earth(in the eyes of the public schools).
So she enrolled me and my next younger brother in Classroom Driver's Ed.
That first day, we showed up (on time), nervous as heck about everything. (and intent on never, ever, ever revealing that we were weirdos from another planet).
This strategy backfired though(as it quickly became apparent no one else was intent on learning the stuff). Keep in mind that this was a summer class, for the previous semester's Flunkees. It was also a dual Gym class for the 9th grade students.(we didn't have to take that part)
As I couldn't let my younger brother beat me out, it was a battle to see who could get the most straight 100's. Our teacher must have thought she'd won the lottery,I recall her being extrordinarily nice to us. We both got A's (not a number grade), so the competition was kind of pointless, but still fun.
I got diabetes in that school.
There were the symptoms- thirst, hunger, frequent urination. To this day, I recall the location of every single water fountain, restroom, and drink machine on each of the school's three floors.
It was a six week class, sometime during those first couple of weeks those symptoms began.
And got worse.
August, September, October, November, December. I lost 30 lbs, great chunks of my hair fell out, my eyesight went blurry, among other things. If there was ever a weird symptom of the Great Undiagnosed D, I had it. In the interest of this being a Family Friendly Blog, I won't describe the rest of the symptoms.
Thanksgiving, 1998. After a huge dinner, my heart started doing weird palpatations + I didn't feel like going out to play the annual family Football slug-a-thon. Lay on the couch and wished I didn't feel so crummy.
That day in December, hooked to tubes/IV's/moniters. Realizing my life had just changed in practically every area, including driving. And the pediatric Endocrinologist, drilling the rules of good D care (as it pertains to being a responsible driver) into my thick head..
I got a new chapter in Driver's Ed that day, one that my brother + the other kids didn't have to take.
Don't drive if your blood sugar is under 90, pull over to the side of the road, eat, and recheck
in 15 minutes.
ALWAYS have a source of sugar on your person, and in your car..
Wear your medical indentification!
Check your blood sugar before driving, every 2 hours WHILE driving, and whenever you
think you may be low..
Don't drive when you're high,(over 600) that affects your thinking abilities as well.
Didn't have a choice about those either, my parents/ doctor saw to it that I walked the line.
But maybe it was for the best, at least it was drilled into my head along w/ everything else (driving related) + now its second nature. Maybe I did get diabetes at just the right time (earlier, and I'd have been a preteen self conscious disaster; later, and I've been out on my own w/out health insurance)
Monday, September 11, 2006
9/11
September 11, 2001
Sun coming up over the Blue Ridge..
6 AM- My car's alternator, sputtered once, twice, and gave up the ghost. Super annoyed, I didn't know yet there were much worse things in store for this day.
I got my mom to take me to work...
9:30 AM- A coworker comes over and tells me there'd been an accident, a plane had just flown into the World Trade Center. Say what? It was an interesting piece of information, but the radio wasn't saying people were dead/dying. It was more like, a plane had a slight collision w/the building + everyone was ok...
10 AM- News of plane #2 into WTC.
10:30 AM-News of the Pentagon, of United Flight #93.
I turned off the radio-I don't want to hear any more. The whole country was going nuts. And work is just not that important anymore. Not that much work is getting done anyway..
A coworker is crying, worried about her daughter. (who later turns up ok) The rumors fly thick + furious, everyone is scared. By day's end, its confirmed that 5 employees(from Boston) were on United 175, and the company VIP's who knew them are now crying too.
I just can't imagine, what it would be like to have something like that happen to a friend/loved one. And I'm not very good at talking to VIP's anyway, let alone knowing what to say in such a horrible situation, so I keep my mouth shut.
When I get home from work, the tv is on(and the magnitude of the situation increases 100x) Seeing it on the tv, is much more impactful then hearing it on the radio.
Five years later, and the shock factor has worn off some. But I think of the people who died in the attacks, when they got up that morning, their day didn't involve just a dead car. Maybe they didn't even have a chance to tell their families they loved them..
We can't forget, lest we let our guard down. There are people out there whose prime objective in life, is to see America brought to her knees, and have no qualms about the method of extermination. 9-11 is so horrible, nothing like this has ever happened. But if there's another terroist attack, (on a greater magnitude) will 9-11 still be remembered? These are weighty questions, and perhaps we can't prevent all the stuff the terroists have in store for us. 9/11 brought out part of the greatness of America (we can pull together, in times of dire need) but why can't we do that w/out such a tragedy? Instead of handing it all off to goverment?
-
Sun coming up over the Blue Ridge..
6 AM- My car's alternator, sputtered once, twice, and gave up the ghost. Super annoyed, I didn't know yet there were much worse things in store for this day.
I got my mom to take me to work...
9:30 AM- A coworker comes over and tells me there'd been an accident, a plane had just flown into the World Trade Center. Say what? It was an interesting piece of information, but the radio wasn't saying people were dead/dying. It was more like, a plane had a slight collision w/the building + everyone was ok...
10 AM- News of plane #2 into WTC.
10:30 AM-News of the Pentagon, of United Flight #93.
I turned off the radio-I don't want to hear any more. The whole country was going nuts. And work is just not that important anymore. Not that much work is getting done anyway..
A coworker is crying, worried about her daughter. (who later turns up ok) The rumors fly thick + furious, everyone is scared. By day's end, its confirmed that 5 employees(from Boston) were on United 175, and the company VIP's who knew them are now crying too.
I just can't imagine, what it would be like to have something like that happen to a friend/loved one. And I'm not very good at talking to VIP's anyway, let alone knowing what to say in such a horrible situation, so I keep my mouth shut.
When I get home from work, the tv is on(and the magnitude of the situation increases 100x) Seeing it on the tv, is much more impactful then hearing it on the radio.
Five years later, and the shock factor has worn off some. But I think of the people who died in the attacks, when they got up that morning, their day didn't involve just a dead car. Maybe they didn't even have a chance to tell their families they loved them..
We can't forget, lest we let our guard down. There are people out there whose prime objective in life, is to see America brought to her knees, and have no qualms about the method of extermination. 9-11 is so horrible, nothing like this has ever happened. But if there's another terroist attack, (on a greater magnitude) will 9-11 still be remembered? These are weighty questions, and perhaps we can't prevent all the stuff the terroists have in store for us. 9/11 brought out part of the greatness of America (we can pull together, in times of dire need) but why can't we do that w/out such a tragedy? Instead of handing it all off to goverment?
-
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Veni, Vidi, Visa (I came, I saw, I bought)
Yesterday was the Semi-Annual Community Yard Sale Event. (May 8th..) The one that's pretty much impossible to work out the boluses/basals for.
Up the hills.
Down the hills.
Check the blood sugar, eat. Bolus. Do some more walking. Eat some more. Bolus some more.
I did fairly well, in that I stayed around 180-210. No lows, no staggering around the side of a busy street, no playing chicken with the oncoming vehicles..
And I picked up some pretty great bargains-loads of cross stitch stuff(people are always desperate to get rid of these), a working Ear Thermometer, several books/cds/dvds, NIP earrings, an oven mitt, a complete Mr. Potato Head, and several other items that will work their way into my upcoming yard sale.
Came home, and gloriously crashed the couch. Woke up(4 hrs later), and my blood sugar was 80. I'm glad I didn't correct for that 196!
Today, the lawn needs mowing (bad), I'm nearly out of groceries + I have zero motivation to do any of it. The new med the gastro doctor is having me take works about as well as an oral T2 med on a type 1, its not relieving anything + its making the nausea even worse. Resorting to sick day rules, I'm keeping hydrated/checked ketones. Fluids work, foods hate me. I need to call the doc tommarow,this isn't working at all.
Up the hills.
Down the hills.
Check the blood sugar, eat. Bolus. Do some more walking. Eat some more. Bolus some more.
I did fairly well, in that I stayed around 180-210. No lows, no staggering around the side of a busy street, no playing chicken with the oncoming vehicles..
And I picked up some pretty great bargains-loads of cross stitch stuff(people are always desperate to get rid of these), a working Ear Thermometer, several books/cds/dvds, NIP earrings, an oven mitt, a complete Mr. Potato Head, and several other items that will work their way into my upcoming yard sale.
Came home, and gloriously crashed the couch. Woke up(4 hrs later), and my blood sugar was 80. I'm glad I didn't correct for that 196!
Today, the lawn needs mowing (bad), I'm nearly out of groceries + I have zero motivation to do any of it. The new med the gastro doctor is having me take works about as well as an oral T2 med on a type 1, its not relieving anything + its making the nausea even worse. Resorting to sick day rules, I'm keeping hydrated/checked ketones. Fluids work, foods hate me. I need to call the doc tommarow,this isn't working at all.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Paging, AO82
It was a totally new experience, this pharmacy.
Tucked away between Radiation Therapy and the Blood Donor Center, it was non-imposing, modern, bright and cheerful(on the set of double doors/surrounding woodwork). The other hospital cafeteria was right around the corner. Definatly a pleasant place.
Until one went inside.
The first line snakes 10 people deep, almost to the double doors. Overhead, the paging system spits out various letters + numbers-and then, I realize something. It is the DMV voice, nicely canned + adopted to a differant setting. There were at least 3 other lines to various other counters scattered around the room, + I(not being brave enough to try to possibly find the (right + shorter) line, stick with the receptionist.(first line) 15 minutes later..
She enters all the rx info,takes my card, and gives me the number.
But the path to the filled prescriptions doesn't end there... I take a seat, and wait. Those were just the pleasant preliminaries.
AO, apparently, is the about-to-hand-in-your-rx line. I am #82, and they're just now processing #71.
Wow, just wow.(and its only 11 AM) I could be here awhile. I count the E line, which is going backward from 50(I never do figure that one out)
30 minutes later..
Hand in rx's. They say it'll be done in 30 minutes, but I really doubt that. Decide to come back for them.
I go off to the research center(my handheld pda has been acting kind of funky, the variability index isn't computing right). Research coordinator is on the phone, and the endo is talking to the Research Center lead invesigator. (aka head honcho) I'm slightly intimidated, but you gotta do what you gotta do.. RC gets off the phone.
I knock, go in.
Variability index isn't reading right, because I haven't put in enough trials(data, bg numbers). RC says it may not give any readings for the rest of the 2 week period, even if I put in zillion of bgs. I really screwed it up, but I guess the computer still computes a VI when they download everything. Even if the pda isn't.
The endo, and the HH are discussing the fine nuances of the Dexcom, Guardian RT, and the Navigator.
And despite the recent addition of another year(one should be more mature, hey, many people would kill for how good I have it), I am overtaken by a sudden, strong surge of jealosy..Jealous, jealous, jealous. What I wouldn't give to be in one of those clinical trials. (I would give ALOT)
But I am in a clinical trial, where it most definatly would not work. (having a RT moniter) Because this one, is all about the feelings. (Getting in touch with your inner diabetic self) And that makes me ineligable for any other trials.. I may be more in touch with my diabetic self, but I'd rather have a RT moniter any day. Maybe in December,(when this trial ends) they'll have something (open).
I want one. Man, do I want one. Not that it would be perfect, I wouldn't expect that.
Just catching my highs(in particular) could lower my a1c to Endo-Extatic numbers. She'd say,
hey you're doing an awesome job, and I'd say its not me. Its all the moniter. I couldn't achieve an Endo-Approved a1c if I worked from now, to the cure. My life is way too sporadic(on and off the bandwagon) for that.
RC gives me more test strips and I head back to the pharmacy + get in line again. This time, the D acronym denotes the picker-uppers from the rest of the crowd. So, I get my new D number(110) and sit down to wait.
30 minutes later....
Rx's are done. Discover insurance company totally does NOT cover one of them. That makes the copay quite a bit juicier. Crud insurance company.
A lunch from the cafeteria...(chef salad) Bypass the sushi + calzones, even the sign makes me nauseus. (I would NEVER eat that stuff)
One last task remains, before I call it a day. Blood draw from the lab. The phlebotomist complements me on my cute "cellphone", and makes my day. (MY PUMP IS CUTE!WHOO HOO, its not my imagination. It came straight from the mouth of a Normal Person..)
(gastro appointment was earlier today, they did an ultrasound + they'll call me next week)
-------------
And thanks for the b'day wishes.
Tucked away between Radiation Therapy and the Blood Donor Center, it was non-imposing, modern, bright and cheerful(on the set of double doors/surrounding woodwork). The other hospital cafeteria was right around the corner. Definatly a pleasant place.
Until one went inside.
The first line snakes 10 people deep, almost to the double doors. Overhead, the paging system spits out various letters + numbers-and then, I realize something. It is the DMV voice, nicely canned + adopted to a differant setting. There were at least 3 other lines to various other counters scattered around the room, + I(not being brave enough to try to possibly find the (right + shorter) line, stick with the receptionist.(first line) 15 minutes later..
She enters all the rx info,takes my card, and gives me the number.
But the path to the filled prescriptions doesn't end there... I take a seat, and wait. Those were just the pleasant preliminaries.
AO, apparently, is the about-to-hand-in-your-rx line. I am #82, and they're just now processing #71.
Wow, just wow.(and its only 11 AM) I could be here awhile. I count the E line, which is going backward from 50(I never do figure that one out)
30 minutes later..
Hand in rx's. They say it'll be done in 30 minutes, but I really doubt that. Decide to come back for them.
I go off to the research center(my handheld pda has been acting kind of funky, the variability index isn't computing right). Research coordinator is on the phone, and the endo is talking to the Research Center lead invesigator. (aka head honcho) I'm slightly intimidated, but you gotta do what you gotta do.. RC gets off the phone.
I knock, go in.
Variability index isn't reading right, because I haven't put in enough trials(data, bg numbers). RC says it may not give any readings for the rest of the 2 week period, even if I put in zillion of bgs. I really screwed it up, but I guess the computer still computes a VI when they download everything. Even if the pda isn't.
The endo, and the HH are discussing the fine nuances of the Dexcom, Guardian RT, and the Navigator.
And despite the recent addition of another year(one should be more mature, hey, many people would kill for how good I have it), I am overtaken by a sudden, strong surge of jealosy..Jealous, jealous, jealous. What I wouldn't give to be in one of those clinical trials. (I would give ALOT)
But I am in a clinical trial, where it most definatly would not work. (having a RT moniter) Because this one, is all about the feelings. (Getting in touch with your inner diabetic self) And that makes me ineligable for any other trials.. I may be more in touch with my diabetic self, but I'd rather have a RT moniter any day. Maybe in December,(when this trial ends) they'll have something (open).
I want one. Man, do I want one. Not that it would be perfect, I wouldn't expect that.
Just catching my highs(in particular) could lower my a1c to Endo-Extatic numbers. She'd say,
hey you're doing an awesome job, and I'd say its not me. Its all the moniter. I couldn't achieve an Endo-Approved a1c if I worked from now, to the cure. My life is way too sporadic(on and off the bandwagon) for that.
RC gives me more test strips and I head back to the pharmacy + get in line again. This time, the D acronym denotes the picker-uppers from the rest of the crowd. So, I get my new D number(110) and sit down to wait.
30 minutes later....
Rx's are done. Discover insurance company totally does NOT cover one of them. That makes the copay quite a bit juicier. Crud insurance company.
A lunch from the cafeteria...(chef salad) Bypass the sushi + calzones, even the sign makes me nauseus. (I would NEVER eat that stuff)
One last task remains, before I call it a day. Blood draw from the lab. The phlebotomist complements me on my cute "cellphone", and makes my day. (MY PUMP IS CUTE!WHOO HOO, its not my imagination. It came straight from the mouth of a Normal Person..)
(gastro appointment was earlier today, they did an ultrasound + they'll call me next week)
-------------
And thanks for the b'day wishes.
Friday, September 01, 2006
September Greetings
The driving rain, compliments of Tropical Storm Ernesto, sloshes up against the front porch.
Inside, my pump alarms its customary up-and-at-em 6 AM wake up call.
Not today, of all days. I'm trying to catch up on sleep here, for crying out loud.
Fumble in darkness for pump.
Bam. Bam. (with fist)
Beeping stops.
Blissful unconsiousness once again.
Internal radar beeps, waking me up once again. It's 9:30 AM, and definatly time to check the o'le blood glucose.
84.
Normally, such an unpredictably wonderful number would have me turning cartwheels but today, I wish it were a bit higher. I've got tons of things to do, on this day off.
Pre-breakfast is 4 fig bars.
I jump in the car and head over to work to pick up my check. Sneak up to HR- past the security + up the stairs.
"Hey there," the head of the HR dept. greets me. "Let me guess why you're here.."
"Che-" I start in, but don't get far.
"I heard on the radio its your birthday today."
Slap head.(mentally) Geez, I never should have called that 3 years ago, radio stations keep that info around forever + repeat it year after year.
"Yeah, it is."
"Happy birthday!" "Thanks."
"It's your birthday today?" Bill, another higher-up(company VIP) chimes in. "How old are you anyway- 19?"
"Not quite. I'm 25. (I've been there 6 years, as of next Tuesday) And I feel old."
"I don't even remember my 25th birthday, you're not old."
Its 10:30 AM, and the HR dept. is really buzzing today. (not typical for a Friday) The company
Annual Service Award banquet is at 12:30, and the VIP's/managers are attempting to quickly finish the urgent stuff and break out of there(for a weekend). Can't say I blame 'em, but I'm not sorry I've got today off.
Get check. Cash Check. Go home.
Do odds and ends around house, take nap. My mom calls(the one person on earth who couldn't forget this day). Go out to movie theater, cry over World Trade Center. (Nicholas Cage makes me cry anyway)
Traffic jam on interstate(which I purposely avoid). Take long way home, avoiding secondary roads as its flooding in several areas. And my yard is a swamp.
Yuck.
3 bottles of Seagrams Pineapple Coconut Calypso Colada(my twice-a-year alcohol indulgence) tops off the evening(and, the end to a perfect day).
All bdays should be so nice. (minus the rain, which we really could have done without)
Inside, my pump alarms its customary up-and-at-em 6 AM wake up call.
Not today, of all days. I'm trying to catch up on sleep here, for crying out loud.
Fumble in darkness for pump.
Bam. Bam. (with fist)
Beeping stops.
Blissful unconsiousness once again.
Internal radar beeps, waking me up once again. It's 9:30 AM, and definatly time to check the o'le blood glucose.
84.
Normally, such an unpredictably wonderful number would have me turning cartwheels but today, I wish it were a bit higher. I've got tons of things to do, on this day off.
Pre-breakfast is 4 fig bars.
I jump in the car and head over to work to pick up my check. Sneak up to HR- past the security + up the stairs.
"Hey there," the head of the HR dept. greets me. "Let me guess why you're here.."
"Che-" I start in, but don't get far.
"I heard on the radio its your birthday today."
Slap head.(mentally) Geez, I never should have called that 3 years ago, radio stations keep that info around forever + repeat it year after year.
"Yeah, it is."
"Happy birthday!" "Thanks."
"It's your birthday today?" Bill, another higher-up(company VIP) chimes in. "How old are you anyway- 19?"
"Not quite. I'm 25. (I've been there 6 years, as of next Tuesday) And I feel old."
"I don't even remember my 25th birthday, you're not old."
Its 10:30 AM, and the HR dept. is really buzzing today. (not typical for a Friday) The company
Annual Service Award banquet is at 12:30, and the VIP's/managers are attempting to quickly finish the urgent stuff and break out of there(for a weekend). Can't say I blame 'em, but I'm not sorry I've got today off.
Get check. Cash Check. Go home.
Do odds and ends around house, take nap. My mom calls(the one person on earth who couldn't forget this day). Go out to movie theater, cry over World Trade Center. (Nicholas Cage makes me cry anyway)
Traffic jam on interstate(which I purposely avoid). Take long way home, avoiding secondary roads as its flooding in several areas. And my yard is a swamp.
Yuck.
3 bottles of Seagrams Pineapple Coconut Calypso Colada(my twice-a-year alcohol indulgence) tops off the evening(and, the end to a perfect day).
All bdays should be so nice. (minus the rain, which we really could have done without)