Of iPhones and iApprovals

Final day of the month...and I feel the need to write something, however unprofound that something might be. Finally got to go on the grandest of sprees Wednesday, ending up with this:


Of course, they don't sell Iphones at Office Depot but they do sell $200 Amex gcs...and Itunes gcs. OD reward certificates can be used to purchase any type of gift card. Best Buy was running a deal(of sorts-$50 off for Reward Zone members) and the prepaid mastercards can be used for anything.(actual purchase plus bills)Signing another 2 year commitment(just did one for the gym..ugh) was not a particular joyous occasion, but I have wanted an iphone forever...and my current cellphone contract will soon expire. I am rather attached to my old number, I've had it ever since I've had a cellphone and giving it up is going to be a very painful grieving process. But having 2 running contracts makes no sense whatsoever.(even if the iphone and the first two bills are free!) And I've got another cellphone that's prepaid(it was a gift) so I'm like rolling in cellphones right now!

I'm not sorry I did it...the iphone rocks, on so many levels. Not having to find a wifi hotspot, being able to use any application at any time is just great. I love my iphone!

D-wise, its been low after low after low. Got my approval letter from my insurance(sensors) and the sensors were mailed out Thurs. of this week. Haven't gotten them yet...hopefully will be here Monday. I'm of the opinion that taking in more fast-acting carbs and getting the bg down later(if you overshoot the mark) is better then eating/drinking 15 carbs...eating another 15 carbs..eating yet another 15 carbs...I could spend my entire life waiting for my bg to come up, with that method. Since I'm having so many I just go for the big guns(40-60 carbs) right away,and it works well. Until the next low. I need to majorly overhaul everything (basals and boluses),day and night they're causing lows. It's not really because of the exercise...because I only work out about 3 hours a week. Hopefully bgs will go back to normal soon.

Signs of the Times

Dear idiot student(s):

So its over. I'm over that. I wish nothing but the best for our new president, and I hope my feelings of doom/and gloom don't turn out to be the case.

But I still have a right to MY own personal political views and if I want to have a bumper sticker that says 1/20/2013- Change We Can Believe In- it is my personal right as an American. You may not like it, but there was no need to put that displeasure into action and decorate my car in such a immature manner.

Ice, coke, and ketchup. Wow- you really take the cake. Forgive me for not finding it funny (maybe one day I will). Right now it just feels like an invasion of the freedoms I took for granted. Luckily for you, the only thing right now handy to take it out on is my meter(I think I'll try Joe S's trick of running over one).

Sincerely,

A fellow (more intelligent, tolerant) student

Circle of Willies

Disclaimer:

I am a control freak. Or at least,I try to be. Not in the sense of my blood sugar never goes above 150 post-meal..more like, I don't trust anyone else besides my cde/endocrinologist to be making suggestions about my D-care. Especially not the local community hospital, and even at University hospitals it can be touch and go as to whether you'll get good care. Unless you have a pumper doc/nurse or someone who knows about pumps.(not very likely)

There's something I haven't quite figured out yet, and its a subject that's discussed even less frequently among doctor/patients then "How's your sex life?" (which is a question I'm not likely to be getting for 30+ more years anyway)

What you have the rights to, D-wise, in surgery or in the hospital. Some surgeons literally demand that you must go off your pump and onto whatever system they've got and some are ok with you staying on your pump. And I've done it both ways, scared stiff to refuse. Because, well, the last general surgeon intent on slicing into my intestinal blockage probably wouldn't have understood if I'd have talked myself blue and though they're quite good at what they're doing they tend to have a mindset that one insulin regimen fits all. Between the language barrier and that,I didn't dare refuse. (fortunately it didn't come to that)On the other hand, the vascular surgeon(port surgery) was ok with me being on the pump. It's a surgeon lottery. I can understand during long, complex surgeries the need to have some control over the situation but with an IV in there anyway they could have access to sending it up or down if the numbers strayed too far. I am easily correctable.

So I think I need some sort of plan. Something that can be given to any future physician who doesn't know much about pumping. I think that would help them see that I'm not the type of patient who will go low on just the basal rate if not doing anything(more like high). (to alleviate fears) I still don't know whether I've got the rights to refuse without them refusing to keep me as a patient. I have hopes that one day..when I'm around 40 or so insulin pumps will be more accepted and the young physicians of today will be the older, experienced physicians who know all about it. The younger physicians, they speak Pumpese "What's your ISF? TDD? Insulin/carb ratio?" while the older ones could care less. As a patient, I feel more connected to someone who shows knowledge about D rather then someone who skirts around the issue. I have D, it is a part of me and it needs to enter the conversation at some point.

The hospital is enough of a place for med mixups/infections/nervous breakdowns as it is. Bright lights. Loud noises. Demented, agitated roommates. Uncomfortable beds. Food menus that make no sense(lots of carbs but no "sugar") and have no nutrional information. Constant streams of people, day and night. Blood leechings. Tests that take forever on cold hard tables and make you miss meals. Endless reruns of "MASH". Waiting all day for the doc to come in to tell you you can't go home that day. Friend/relative visits that awkwardly end as you fall facefirst into your cream of wheat on a medication trip. Lots of decisions, much of which won't happen because its all relative to what the doctor decides when he gets around to it. As for diabetes control, good luck with that, you are on your own. At least on the pump you are not hypoing constantly, you have some control over the situation. Whereas with sliding scales you are pretty much stuck.(haven't been on one in 9 years and don't intend to be)

Some more thoughts on the situation...(Dec.2006)

I wish there were a facility in which only D's(or friends, family members) worked..everything would be done with the D taken into consideration and pumps would be the rule, rather then the exception. Better attention to D translates to better bgs equals shorter stays and improved outcomes.

The One on the Right

There once was a musical troupe
A swinging, rhyming folk group
They sang non-traditional ballads
In a never-ending loop
They were great with alliterative allegories
And charming,mildly interesting stories
But diabetical incompatibilitys
Led to their downfall.

Well, the one on the right was
Tight with Animas
And the one in the middle was
Not in any "pumping" rush
While the one on the left was
Having a major Medtronic crush
And the guy in the rear...Burned his Medical Alert.

This musical aggravation
Toured the D-Life communes
Singing non-traditional ballads
In the oddest, weirdest tunes.

They performed with great virtuosity
And soon, they were a hit(surpassing even the Jonas Brothers!)
But diabetical incompatibilities
Finally made them split.

Cuz' the one on the right had a
5.5 a1c while the one in the middle was 8.4
the one on the left was 7.2
and the guy in the rear...could care less.

When the curtain finally rose
On their season's biggest show
The D-folk watched in anticipation
To see their latest, weird creation.
But they all forgot their meters
And that led to quite a scene
No longer friendly greeters
These charming folks turned mean.

The one on the right was
Really high, while the one in the middle was
Feeding him pie.
The one on the left was the one who
Really needed that pie
While the guy in the rear...was dialing 911.

Now this should be a lesson
If you plan to PWD messin'
Don't go mixing pumpers
With the politics of the D
Just work on getting along
No more messy spiels
And if they're slightly in the wrong
It's not a major deal.

Now the one on the left
writes a blog while the one in the middle
Went back to Lantus.
the one on the right just ran a marathon
And the guy in the rear..went back to school and became a CDE.
(there's always hope for the rebels)

A Valentine's Weekend Dozen

#1
(gift from my very sweet husband)

#2 A workout at the Love Triangle. I call it that, because it has my doctor's office, the gym, and CVS in the same general area so whatever you need, you're covered! (injured, hop on over to docs and pick up RX at CVS). Only I always end up going across the street to McDonalds and stuffing my face because workouts make me incredibly hungry and there's just no way I'm going to pay $5.99 for a "Rejuvenating Fruit Smoothie."

#2 An hour long wait to The Pasta Place because the place didn't take reservations. Sigh. It was good though, awesome Italian carby goodness that was well worth the insulin. No candlelight, but it was dim enough in there to qualify as being in the Twilight Zone anyway.

#3 A Visit to the William Paca House.(signer of the Declaration of Independance) We've visited Montpelier-Monticello-Mt.Vernon but this was quite different from them, this was primarily a show house and living in the city of Annopolis they didn't have to be so self-sufficient as the Virginia hicks did.


#4 Going to meet Cara at a chain restaurant called Eggspectations. She was up here visiting a friend, and her friend and friend's (8 month old? correct me if I'm wrong) kiddo were along. Her godson was having a "Mohawk Hair Day" + was an absolute knock-out, cute as could be. Should work in his favor when he does get to be a teenager! She treated us all to lunch.(that's REAL Tennessean hospitality!) We talked D-stuff, non D-stuff, and walked around in the Artic Blast, visited another shop and then they went home. She's pretty cool.(and we have the same type of camera!)

(and I just noticed the creepy guy staring out the window...weird)

#5 Getting a $25 gc/purchase of a new RX coupon from CVS...because they're incredibly rare and its great timing, the beginning of the year always brings horrendous copays and every little bit helps.

#6 Semi-annual cleaning of the diamond ring...and having the Zales salesperson semi-cuss-me-out. " X-Y-Z, this is so dirty! How did it get that way?" Ok, its dirty, that's why I'm here, to have it cleaned. Neither her language nor her tone was appropriate to lambast a customer with. My husband didn't pay good money to have me treated that way. I was slightly peeved, I don't think I've ever been cussed out by a salesperson before.(not even when I should have been!)

#7 Playing games at Dave & Busters.. its such a fun place and I could totally spend the rest of my life in there.

#8 Studying for microbiology test #1(lecture). Ack, ack, ack.(now behind me)

#9 Wondering if this will be the week that A. my sensor coverage comes through and B. my Office Depot gift card arrives and I'll be able to get my longed-for Iphone.

#10 Reading poems of yesteryear + thinking, wow, was I ever so young and clueless back then,I thought the pump would solve everything.

#11 Semi-Annual Stuffing at the Golden Corral. Every time I go there, I gain five pounds.(hence it is good that we only go 2x a year)

#12 Downloading my Valentine's Day Ipod Playlist:
1. How do I love her-Steven Curtis Chapman
2. I'm yours
3. Sincerely Yours- Petra
4. Head over Heels- 4HIM
5. LOVE-Nat King Cole (?)
6. When You're Loved- Debbie Boone
7. All you need is Love- The Beatles
8. I Walk the Line- Johnny Cash
9. Because of You-Reba McIntire
10. Cleaning this Gun-Rodney Atkins
11. Testify to Love- Avalon
12. I'm not gonna write you a love song- Sara Bareilles

From Endo, With Love

I'm not sure how it happened, but...

My a1c has gone down. By 0.8. Which puts me exactly where I was last year at this time.
(in the 8's, which is much better then the 9's). I'm feelin' the buzz from that, its moving in the right direction.(at least)

The rest of the appt. was fairly unproductive, my endo doesn't much like Pings(they're rather difficult to get the basals and TDD from + the meters read 40+ higher then the Ultra) and discussing my major hurdle toward better bgs...my fear of humongous boluses even when I know I need it. Because when I crash from one of them,it is a major crash + not pretty. I would rather square wave something then bolus it all up front,and sometimes you need everything up front.(like for cereal)If I have my Dex on,I'm not as afraid to do large boluses but because approval/paperwork for sensors has been stuck in insurance land since the beginning of Jan. I don't have that safety guard. The main reason my a1c has come down is because of my overnights, which have been pretty rock-solid awesome for the past few months.

Paperwork to get yearly bloodwork...a refill rx. Hey insurance, please hurry up with that paperwork, I need those sensors!

And that question, which popped up once again- "When are you planning to have kids?"
I didn't tell her what happened last month, and I'm not sure it would have done any good(not info she needs to know unless A. I stay pregnant or B.it happens more then once) When do I plan to have kids...probably never. Don't want to be told what I already know.(a1c must be in optimal range or that could be a major reason in miscarriages)

But all in all, it wasn't a total disaster + its good that I went.

The Happy Microbiologist

I have white coat syndrome.

Yeah, there's the normal kind...where you're sitting in the docs office, heartrate/blood pressure skyrocketing and your bg getting the maximum glycogen-glucose conversion possible.(this will occur on Friday, when I'm waiting for the results of my fingerstick a1c + a subsequent endo appt.)

But I also have another kind of white coat syndrome, the type where you feel like hot stuff(perhaps I should call it the MD syndrome). Microbiology is FUN,(quick, how many carbohydrates in an Agar dish?) and wearing a white coat propels one off on a quite intoxicating power trip. No wonder many docs act like complete dictator jerks.

There's also another pumper at my lab table so if either one of us starts eating Agar it will be clear to the other one what's going on.
I think I'll be taking a picture and putting it on my Twitter profile because wow, I look good in a white coat. Really, really good.

Rappin'

My Wedding Processional

(it's frustrating that I can't embed the video in my blog..and this is the ONLY YouTube video that really captures the grandness of the moment.)Just envision a large church...majestic organ music(sans the "how do you solve a problem like Heidi" vocals), a crowd about 1/100 the size of the one in the movie and you've got it.
"Here comes the Bride" is not nearly as thrilling as this is.(in my humble opinion) Every time I hear it I want to bawl.

Redefining Wellness

I'm probably not the right person to be writing this, it should be coming from some brainiac phd researcher who's done extensive studies on the role of a positive attitude in chronic disease. And I know I'm not that, half the time...

Regardless, here are my thoughts on the matter. I was reading an article in Time magazine where the author put forth the idea that perhaps its not the absence of disease that makes us healthy, its having the stamina/will to overcome the stuff our body throws at us. Very intriguing idea..and the author should know.(if anyone does) Recipient of a horrid disease at 15, a liver transplant at 22, a colon transplant at 25, and another liver transplant at 29, she hasn't been told she epitomizes the picture of health in quite a long time. But what is healthy? she runs several times a week, has a job, and doesn't let it get in the way of what she wants to do.(she merrily works in the other stuff). One tough cookie.
By that definition, maybe I've got it in me to live longer...it had a bizzaringly cheering-up effect upon me. The human body can withstand a great deal of wear,tear, and abuse before it finally flops out. You've got things you can control, and things you can't, and wellness isn't just about being blessed with perfect health-much of wellness is in the individual's hands. I went to the gym today..first time in a LONG time. Started out at 175. Ended at 138.(because I am sensitive, I usually remove my pump for exercise) As I went through the effects of exercise upon a very out-of-shape body, I was glad for one thing...that at least I knew what it was doing to my blood sugar, my heart rate, everything else. Versus the spandex-clad ultra athletes running next to me who probably don't even know where the energy "crash" comes from. I guess diabetes is good for something. Keeping the body in homeostasis is not an easy job, but its definatly worth it. As Johann Goethe said,"From disease I have learned much, that life could not have taught me any other way," and I would conclude that from disease, I've learned to cherish what wellness truly is.

The Eye of the Storm

Snow is coming down. Real white stuff, flying thick and furious. Of course it came at the absolute best time...yesterday I drove down to my eye exam, not thinking that it would do anything today. (it NEVER does)


Like most eye exams,I was in there over three hours(par for the course), they refuse to put my married name on there(I've also been trying to fix that for 1+ years). I think I'll just give up at some point. Visual fields, resident with his medical student in tow. Nice enough, and had a last name that could actually be pronounced/remembered. Dilation. Comment about my lack of perfect control,which I tuned out. Back out to waiting room. Back in again. Bright lights, more drops.


"Hmmmmm-ummmm-hmmmmm-lookright-look left--look up===look down---hmmmm"

"They don't look too bad."

"WHAT?WHAT does that mean? No proliferative or nonproliferative damage????"

"No diabetes changes."

Sigh of relief. Another test, the Hess test. That measures the amount of double vision, and that has changed slightly since the last visit. Recheck in 6 months.

Came home today...in slushy junk/traffic jams(4 hours drive) and had to go straight to microbio lab(1 pm, was late to boot) because they DIDN'T CANCEL school. Stupid.(the entire world is shutting down and they don't). First major snow.

The Four Freedoms: Freedom From Fear

"We have nothing to fear, but fear itself..." Franklin D. Roosevelt


Fear is a very powerful emotion-it certainly helps to have tools to be able to keep the biggie fear(hypoglycemia) at bay. As well as all the other fears diabetes conjures up. We are fortunate to have an emergency medical system in this country, as much as it is a paralyzing, numbing experience it has saved the lives of countless PWD's and is really better then the alternative.
(having said that, Roosevelt obviously didn't have diabetes although polio must suck pretty bad too)

Jolt

When they called the first time, it was beyond belief, drop-you-dead in your tracks unbelievable. And I didn't believe it, I used the word "impossible" twice in the resulting dialogue.

And then they called the second time, and the emotions of time #1 rose and plummeted to the deepest depths. I didn't say "that's impossible." I didn't say much of anything, because the rollarcoaster ride was just too much.

I am angry. Angry at diabetes. Angry that I can't just have a normal life and have kids, have a career, have a life.

I had a miscarriage last week. Not that I was aware of it, by the time I knew I was
I'd been whammied by abdominal pains/period(check, for 2.5 weeks late) and a few days later, well, I wasn't.(plummeted hcg levels) Yes, I use birth control. (for years, people) That apparently, doesn't always work(why NOW?) and add diabetes and what chance did anything have of making it. I know my diabetes isn't in good enough control for a baby. So why do these things happen? Seems like a pwd can't do anything without risk. I've got so many mixed up emotions, I don't know how you're supposed to deal with something like this. I didn't want to be pregnant but when I learned I was I would have continued it. It's something that never occured to me..that you could get pregnant on bc. Maybe my control caused it, maybe it was something else. Really, I'm not sure I could survive a D pregnancy but I'd do my best.(I do want to be a parent someday but I always thought it'd be by adoption)

All I know is, I need to do better on my D-control. That, or get my tubes tied.
(apologies for the graphicness of the post)

1/20/09

The Ten Things I didn't Learn in Class

Annual Physical- hahahahaha
No Simple Sugars- vital to the treatment of every low????
Max Heart Rate- the 3 AM hypo
Complex Carbohydrate- anything that requires a diabetes PHD to figure out the carb/bolus timing for
Muscular Endurance- carting 'round the diabetes suitcase all day
My Pyramid- chocolate, 10% of total caloric intake for the day
Stress Management- temper control with the diabetes police
Fiber- sugar free chocolate will do the same thing...
Blood Pressure- automatically elevated at endo's office(if you're going to have an MI it's a very good place to do it)
Reversibility- tendency of the less-then-hard-core-committed pwd's a1c to drift above 8. (or 9, 10, etc..)


Final Exam tonight!!!!!!!!!!(hurray!) For as informative as the class was, much of the information was decidedly not targeted to the PWD. Making me feel like I was just visiting from another planet, and do most Earthlings really just go to the doctor once a year(or whenever they're sick)? I was sufficiently brainwashed to want to step up the exercise stuff, although I think that if hardcore exercisers had to count carbs/track bgs/make basal adjustments/everything else they would cure them of their obsessement over calories, etc. Numbers drive me nuts.

The Food Nazi Class

So I'm taking a 3 credit course, nicely jammed packed into 2 weeks. 2-3 quizzes, 2 tests, 1 paper, 5 homeworks, and 1-20 minute presentation is my lot-4 hours a night, five times a week. Insane.(but I digress)

The instructor(personal trainer) is a real food Nazi, if there ever were one.She let it be known(on the first night of class) that she so much as spotted a French Fry being consumed she'd tell us to dump the junk food in the trash can, it would not be permitted in her course. Five foot 5 inches of lean,mean muscle(not a scrap of fat on her body) and she wears really tight clothes so you can see all that muscle.

The cast of characters:

-muscle building guy(think Doug Burns, minus the hair)
-nose ring guy(in very back)
-half the class sits in the very back...
-political guy, who is extremely motivated and says he's running for President some day
-person in front of me-who is taking TWO two week classes, plus working(now I feel lazy)
-the rest of us, who just want to get on with our lives

It's a nutrition/fitness class, so I guess she kind of has a right to make the rules but if I'm ever low and drinking a juice/eating something and she berates me you can bet I will let her have it.

"Would you rather I passed out from low blood sugar? Excuse ME for having diabetes."

Something I would generally NEVER announce to the entire class,
but if she embarrassed me you can bet I'd embarrass her.
And there are no bathroom breaks/breaks during the whole class so you can bet the food choices will be viewed/analyzed by the entire class. It's rather annoying.

I've never given a 20 minute oral presentation on ANYTHING, and the last time I did give one was 7 years ago. That was around 5 minutes. And mine, is due next Tuesday.
Aughhhhhhhh.(and its not on diabetes...its on hemachromitosis. Diabetes is pretty boring, right now)

Back to the Past

Once upon a time, in the faraway country of Ignorance, there lived a mouse. A very cute mouse, who owned humongous ears and a cheesy little grin that would make even the biggest car lover grant a pardon to the little guy and find another meal for Fido.


But this isn't about a mouse.(although he will reappear)


No, this is about a teenage girl, a rich socialite snob who lived in a NYC penthouse with her workaholic CEO parents and a bratty little brother who most definatly should have been in a military boarding school somewhere. But I'm getting ahead of myself...this is her story, and she should be telling it.

-----

I chug down yet another cherry pepsi, attempting to put stop breaks on my unquenchable thirst.

"Give it a rest, wontcha? " my 10-year-old-brat of a brother says, unceremoniously dumping his backpack on the living room carpet. "The toilets are going to go on strike."

"Haha, very funny.Where's my mouse?"

"Still at school-we're gonna dissect him and you'll never see him again. Say, isn't that number six?" he asks incredulously, as I chuck the can toward the recycling bin and head toward the fridge for another one. "Leave me one, can't you?"

Brothers-such a HUGE pain. I'd argue, but I'm so tired I'd much rather sleep. I slam my bedroom door, set my ipod to shuffle "A Little Bit Longer," ad nauesum and drift off to sleep, intent on catching a few ZZ's before starting my homework.

There's a siren in my dreams, piercing and loud but I can't seem to wake up. Soooo
tired.
-------

"Wake up, Jenny, wake up," my mom is crying, and that's really not like her. So I oblige, to find tubes and wires crisscrossing my body like one of my brother's mutant science experiments.

"Oh hon- you have diabetes!"

"No, I do not," I croak from the depths of my drier-then-dirt voicebox. "What happened, why am I here?"

"You got diabetes, your blood sugar was 1400 and you've been in here for two days..."

To make a long story short, I'm kept in for another week and taught to be a good little diabetic. Except I'm not. The best pediatric endocrinology team in the country cannot make me that.

And a insulin pump? Well, of course I have one, my parents practically donated the medical center into existance and every administrator/doc in that place fell all over themselves to provide me with only the best. President-elect Obama doesn't get all the perks that we do.

But it doesn't change the fact that I dislike all the rules of diabetes, and no one at all understands what I have to do on a daily basis just to keep tickin'. Sometimes I get so tired of it, like the night I decided not to reconnect to my pump(post shower),I was still in honeymoon phase anyway so nothing would happen. Drift off to LaLa land again.
-----

"Wake up, Jennifer."

Whaaa? Not again. I silently groan, and open my eyes, expecting my doctor will be there to harp at me about my recent lack-of-stellar-control.

Instead, there's a young, cheery-faced nurse who hands me a piece of brick like bread. Or rather, half a piece.

"What is this?"I sputter, shocked.

"Supper. You're spilling quite a bit of sugar in your urine and Dr. Allen is reducing your calorie intake."

"Dr. Who? He's not MY doctor. Where's my doctor?"

"Quiet, hon, you're not feeling well. This new diet will help your diabetes get under control." she moves off, to hand someone their hunk o' hardtack.

I look at the other kids in the ward, most living skeletons who barely move, let alone speak. Like a cancer ward at Halloween. Freeeeaky.

"You know John died last night," my nearest roommate pipes up, out of the blue.

"Died? Why?"

"Diabetes, of course. Like we all might only no one talks about it. It's fatal."

"It's not fatal, there's in...."

Suddenly, a tall man enters the room and all the kids flock around him like he'll be handing out candy, momentarily. (but of course, he won't)

"I think," he says very slowly,"that I may have something for you."

Something? I watch as he and the nurse administer whopping horse-sized doses of a murky brown liquid that I normally wouldn't water my lawn with, let alone have injected, into my body. But there is something else being injected.

Hope. Eyes brighten, cheeks glow, and flesh soon reappears on once skinny bones. And I, like many others, cherish those painful injections because they represent life.
----

"Wake up, Jennifer."

I sigh, turn over, and mumble "in my thigh" bracing myself against the expectant paralyzing jolt of the humongous syringe. But it doesn't come.

I open my eyes.

"Hey Jen-are you ok? You went into DKA again," my doctor asks, concerned.

"Yeah. It won't happen again, because I had a weird dream and I think I know what it means now."

---

Once upon a time, there lived a rich, not-so-snobbish teenage girl who discovered a richness not bestowed by her parent's millions. The richness of being alive.

And her mouse? Well,it survived her brother's classmates, and she named the mouse Banting, deciding that someday, she'd become a diabetes researcher and find a cure for both humans AND mice. Because they are both, really, really cute.
(go watch the Tale of Despereaux)

Freaked

Tonight I changed my pump battery for the first time. After popping a fresh one in, it whirled back into action and showed 0U in the cartridge.


There are no words to describe the freaked-out feeling you get that 85 units of insulin are now coursing through your body so I won't. (death, very, very soon)Ripped out the cartridge immediately, and it was still full so no insulin OD but my pump trainer forgot to tell me about that little goodie. Called Animas, reprimed. Still checking just to make sure I didn't get any insulin.

Thanks, Animas. That took some 15 years off my life.

Regurgitated: A Year, Reviewed

January: 10 Reasons I just LOOVVEEE My Meter!

February: Green Glucose Tabs and Ham

March: Pumpers Anonymous (in which I get back ON the bandwagon and start going to pump meetings again)

April: Oysters on the Bay

May: The Last of a Trilogy: Hail to the Chief

June: The Case of the Serial Diet Coke Spiller

July: Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth

August: The Tale of a Morphine Shot on 08/08/08..epic for more then just the Olympics

September: A Divabetic in DC

October: The Sweetest, Coldest Place on Earth

November: YES, WE DID!!!!

December: Double Digit Diagnosis Day

Recap: my diabetes turns 10, we visit several historical places, first wedding anniversary, a bowel intesseseption/electrolyte problems, go to FFL conference and finally meet several very cool bloggers, pumpers anonymous, green glucose tabs + ham, visit Hershey Park, finish my cross stitch project and begin a new one, get a new Ping Pump, get a new Endo...(ad naueseum)

Happy New Year!!!!

Lockdown at L.A.X.

The security guard does not look happy.

"Why isn't your boarding pass stamped? Didn't they check your I.D., at the gate?"

"No. No one was there, not when we came through."

"No one was there AT ALL???"

"No."

He ushers me forward to a hold cell, compliments of my pump setting off the detectors + goes off to get my boarding pass stamped. Next door, my husband is also being detained for a non-stamped pass. Suddenly, "BRAVO, AIRPORT PERSONAL" crackles over the loud speakers and everyone freezes in place, like being suddenly dipped in liquid nitrogen. As I'm thinking the worst-a bomb has been found, it might go off and we'll all have to evacuate into the chilling Californian morning (with no coat and bare stocking feet) two minutes pass, and just as suddenly, the all clear is given. People unfreeze, and go about their business. It must have had something to do with the non-stamped passes.(which I don't think every airline does-this one is extra picky) I resume my stay in hold-cell jail but it's not my fault someone was off chatting instead of doing their jobs. A truly fine security system they've got there, protecting us all. You've got to wonder if the people who run the scanners ever "stop" doing that too and anyone could just sneak by. (and it just takes one, folks)

I'm wanded, patted, and everything else, and then released. Making it 2/2 times I've gone through security and set them off. (with the new pump) I'm thinking it'd be simpler to just stow it in the basket and let it go through. Doesn't damage the pump-right? Getting held up each and every time for a 5 minute patdown is not the highlight of my day. I think this pump has a particular sensitivity toward setting everything out there, off.

"That was embarrassing," my husband remarks. (he's not one to ever set off alarms.)

"Join the club," I say,"Various alarms going off IS my life." We both laugh.(perhaps inappropriate given the setting but it was a shared diabetes joke)

And the backup syringe, vials, and juice on my carryon goes completely un-noticed
and un-commented on. Ahhh, the ever-so-logical TSA.