Category Archives: Personal
Have you ever applied blood to the test strip, and then in haste, removed and thrown out the strip before the countdown reached zero and the result was displayed?
Have you ever pricked your finger, then forgotten which one you chose, leaving you to squeeze three or four different digits looking for the surprise appearance of blood?
Have you ever harpooned yourself with a CGM sensor, only to have it fall right out again because you forgot to first remove the adhesive covering?
Have you ever lost your place while counting to four? (One glucose tablet.. chomp-chomp; two glucose tablets… chomp-chomp; four…no… wait…two…seven…eleventeen…?)
Have you ever tested your blood sugar… thirty seconds after testing your blood sugar…because you’d forgotten that you’d done it already?
Have you ever fasted for a blood-draw which, as it turns out, didn’t require you to not eat beforehand?
Have you ever awoken in the middle of the night, groggy and hypoglycemic, to find that you only dreamed of testing and treating the low, but never actually did it?
Have you ever confessed – publicly to the world – some of the absolutely boneheaded things you’ve done that left you feeling dumber than dirt?
I have. And I’m quite sure I’ll do all of them again.
Life’s been hectic and blogging time’s been scarce, but I’ve got a few moments to share this quick anecdote:
On Monday night, I had pizza for dinner before lacing up the skates to help out at my son’s hockey practice. The pizza means I had an extended (dual-wave) bolus in action; the skating means I had a reduced temporary basal in effect. I felt kinda foolish, taking such measures which essentially cancelled one another out. But you know what?
(Maybe the message would be more dramatic if I had a photo).
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Meanwhile, please go read Sue from Pennsylvania’s post at Test, Guess, and Go. You may not think Medicare rules may apply to you, but someday they will. And as more and more private insurers follow a “standard” (i.e. Medicare), this could get worse before it gets better… unless we make ourselves heard! [UPDATE: link to Sue's post corrected!]
Warning: This is one of those posts where I’m going to dig deep inside of my head, grab a collection of thoughts, and try to make some sense of them. It’s completely unstructured, and as I start typing, I have no idea how it will end. My grade-school English teachers hate that sort of stuff.
It’s about advocacy. Or more specifically, being an advocate.
It’s a word I struggle with all the time. I can’t quite understand what it means or what obligations come with the name. Is it a role that a person chooses? Or is it a title bestowed by others based on how he or she is perceived?
Is it a privilege? A responsibility? An achievement? Maybe it’s just a self-proclamation — a sash that anyone can pick up at their local 99-cent store and sling over their shoulder. (Before you ask: I’ve never actually seen a sash that reads “Advocate” — it’s just a metaphor, and a poor one at that. But it does give me an idea…).
The term gets tossed around a lot and, to be honest, I’ve been reluctant to include myself in the group. The reason I came to the ‘net to talk about diabetes was simply that — to talk. To exchange thoughts and ideas with people like me on-line, because I really didn’t know of other Type-1′s off-line. I sought companionship and understanding, and maybe an exchange of some tricks-of-the-trade along the way.
When I sought my way into this online community, my goal was to become one friend in an established circle of friends. That was expectation, and to some extent, I’ve accomplished that. Saving the world was never on my mind.
Doing anything on a grand scale was not my ambition; I’m the type who tends to avoid the spotlight, not attract it. Never did I consider myself an Advocate.
“See. if I’m thirsty. I don’t want a glass of water, I want you to sympathize. I want you to say, ‘Gloria, I too know what it feels like to be thirsty. I too have had a dry mouth.’ I want you to connect with me through sharing and understanding the concept of dry mouthedness.”
- Rosie Perez, as “Gloria Clemente”
Perhaps I shouldn’t be taking cues in DOC behavior from a movie. Perhaps I shouldn’t even be quoting a movie that was released – oh my God, I just looked it up, and boy do I feel old! – twenty-two years ago. But that scene plays through my head a lot as I read of the tough times that some of my fellow PWDs are going through. I see someone struggling, and I turn to a movie about basketball and hustling for advice.
(White Men Can’t Jump is a really funny movie. You should go out and rent it. Or maybe they have it on that newfangled Netflix thing. Unfortunately, I can’t find a video clip of the scene, but there’s an audio clip here; it’s the second one from the top.)
I’ve never been good at keeping records. I don’t mean the day-to-day blood sugars, but the records of real moments of significance.
Just before I started writing this post, I began a post (one of many posts still unfinished) titled “Reflections”, in which I chronicled the major advancements in diabetes, not over the past twelve months, but over the last 32 years.