Author Archives: Scott E

A weighty decision

Dx-on-dischargeWhen I was first diagnosed with diabetes, I took one insulin injection a day: a little bit of Regular and a little bit of NPH mixed in a syringe before breakfast. That quickly shifted to twice a day: before breakfast and before dinner.

I had a glucose test kit that stayed in the school nurse’s office. In 1981 (1st grade, diagnosis), it was a urine test, in 1991 (11th-12th grade) it was a blood test. But it was there, not with me.

The only thing I carried around with me everywhere I went was a little box of Sun-Maid raisins, in case I felt low. Or maybe a roll of Life Savers, which always ended up permanently stuck to the paper wrapping (and each other) ensuring I had plenty of fiber with my low BG treatment.

At some point I switched to blood tests, first by holding the strip up to a  color chart, and later by using a big, clunky meter. I took it with me on family outings, but I don’t remember ever taking it to school. All I took was the box of stale raisins to treat lows; or maybe a roll of Life-Savers, inseparably stuck to the foil wrapping and each other.

I don’t ever remember carrying a meter with me in school. In 9th grade, I had a late lunch period and consistently went low during my biology lab period before. But I fought through it like a champ chump, traveling light.

I can’t remember if I carried a meter with me to class in college. Twelve years later after diagnosis, I was still on just two injections a day, each was a mix of Regular and NPH, taken before breakfast and dinner, with the Regular dose on a sliding scale that increased with my blood sugar. The scale matched the intervals on the old Chemstrip color chart: 180-240, add 1 unit. 240-300, add 2 units. 300-400, add 3 units, and so on.

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Personal preference

Thcompact-disce worst song of the 1990s is  has got to be “Barbie Girl” by Aqua. Weezer’s “Undone – The Sweater Song” is a close second.

The song “Blue” by Eiffel 65 is a close runner-up, but was redeemed by its potential to be used as a Blue Friday soundtrack.

* * *

Diet Coke is a hundred times better than Diet Pepsi. But I’d choose either of those before drinking a Coke Zero.

I can tolerate Diet Pepsi from a can, but from a fountain, I find it repulsive.

DietCoke

* * *

Dogs are awesome. I’m not particularly fond of cats.

My opinion was not at all influenced by this hysterical audition on AGT.

* * *

I’d rather take an hour-long circuitous drive through Westchester and Rockland County than sit in traffic for twenty minutes on the Cross Bronx.

Even better, avoid driving in New York altogether.

* * *

Boxers.

The DOC’s dying to know.

 BillClinton

 * * *

There’s no reason to keep a straight face in a Drivers License photo. A smile will never go out of style.

But a mullet will.

DriversLicense

 

* * *

I’d prefer for you to leave a comment and tell me where my preferences may have gone astray.

But a simple Check! will suffice.

blankcheck

 

 

Leg man

The last time I took insulin in my leg was in June of 2006. It was with my very last Novolog FlexPen.

Until now.

image

I’m hoping this experiment turns out well, because real-estate on my body is about as valuable – if not more – than land in Manhattan.  And this could open up more options for my CGM sensor, which seems to have a low tolerance for scar tissue.

That, and I can hide it beneath swim trunks. Summers are always hard for me when it comes to site selection.

It’s the end of the world as we know it

image

Suddenly, my diabetes – as I know it – has changed. I learned this when I saw what you see in this picture.

I am thankful that the CGM alerted me to several PREDICTED LOWs before the actual LOW (my low threshold is set to 80 mg/dl), and after those repeated nags (despite a manually suspended basal), that I finally pulled out the meter.

I learned that my blood sugar was not 79, but it was 48…

…and I feel fine.

And that scared the crap out of me.

I wasn’t too scared of the 48, but was scared that I didn’t feel a freakin’ thing. Previously, I’ve dipped into the 70s and even the 60s while being unaware of my hypoglycemia, but never the 40s.

I felt perfectly fine. As if I could have gotten behind the wheel and driven to the grocery store (thankfully I didn’t), or stopped what I was doing to change my son’s wet diaper (I did). I didn’t hesitate to snap the photo in real-time (notice its not going back in the meter history) just before popping five glucose tabs. Nothing could slow me down. Nothing but my own self-restraint, that is.

I felt absolutely NOTHING. Physically.

Mentally, I felt bad about not feeling bad. And that feeling is terrifying.

And I fear it could happen again.

Target

This new guideline first crossed my eyes in the form of  a **BREAKING NEWS** post on Facebook.

ADA-A1c target-breaking

It was posted by the very organization that made the news. (Does anyone else find that just a little bit self-serving and disingenuous?)

But after getting over my disgust over the misrepresentation of (what should have been) a press-release as a groundbreaking, developing situation, my thoughts shifted from the presentation to the message.

And my reaction to the lowering of an A1C target to 7.5% (from something that, I could only guess was something more than that) was a hearty, passionate…

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