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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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Behind the A1C secrecy

do-not-shareYesterday, I wrote about how I had achieved a personal A1C goal, and that it’s time for me to set a new one.

What I didn’t tell you is what that goal was. I’ve made it a personal policy to NOT share my A1C (although I will tell the change from one to the next). But I’ll say it was modest – a baby-step from my previous two results. But I’m still not happy. I don’t know if that goal is good enough, and I fear setting an even more aggressive target.

Why? Because while some people would love to have A1Cs like mine, others have A1Cs that are significantly better (or lower- perhaps that’s the preferred term). And yet, there’s a third group that has been coasting along at my longtime target for an eternity already. I know this because they’ve told me – and told the world – what their A1C is. And, in a way, it makes me jealous.

I know that it’s morally wrong to think of other people’s test results in the same context of my own, but it happens. I believe that, when knowledgeable of one’s own number and that of a companion – whether regarding test scores, income levels, or lab results – it’s human nature to compare. This leads to the inevitable judging of either the other person, of myself, or both. That makes me uncomfortable.

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Not-quite Wordless: What it takes


After seeing more double-up arrows in the last two days than I’d seen in the previous two weeks, I decided to leave my desk and do a site-change in the office mens’ room. A balancing act of epic proportions.

The following day, I still was plagued with the double-up, so I popped the top on a new vial of insulin.

Here’s hoping Wednesday turns out better, and that a lousy three days doesn’t kill my hopefully-not-lousy three month average.

Twelve Angry Hemoglobins

I just came back from my appointment with my endo.  I didn’t go in with particularly high expectations, but I still came out feeling kind of low (and I don’t mean my blood sugar).

It all started in a typical exam room when a friendly physician’s assistant came in to check my height, weight, blood pressure, blood sugar, and all that fun stuff.  Then she leafed through that blue folder with my first and last name on it making sure everything is in order.  Height, weight, BP, BG, pulse properly recorded: check. Eye doctor report: check.  A1C results —

That was in there too.

Then she closed the folder and carried it out of the room.

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Like a child, learning his A-1-C’s.

When I was a kid, I used to get postcards like this in the mail every three months, roughly a week after my visit with the pediatric endocrinologist. Although I don’t remember it exactly (the above is a re-creation; my mother might have an original stashed in her basement somewhere), a few things I remember really well.

First, it was pink (not that it matters, but it did make it stand out among the pile of junk mail). Second, it was a postcard, which meant everyone from my mom to the mailman could read it (this is long before HIPAA). Third, that final blank always had the words “too high” penned in.

Tomorrow I get the results of my latest A1C test. I’ll get it face-to-face, not in a postcard, but I’m sure the words “too high” will still be applicable.

And, for some reason, I’ll try really hard to keep my blood sugars under control for the 24 hours before I go to see the doctor. It won’t make a difference; he’ll download two weeks of data from my pump anyway (and the blood for the A1C, which doesn’t gravitate towards the most recent day, was taken a week ago anyway), but it’s one of those dumb rituals I have. Like brushing and flossing my teeth really well before going to the dentist, to make him think that I am this great all the time.

It’s a senseless habit, but I always want to go in to see my doctor on good terms.  But since it’s a reason to do well, even if only for one day, it’s a habit I choose not to try to break.