Wednesday, January 30, 2008
(One item is missing from the photo--my husband claimed the Elvis calendar as his own, it's hanging above his desk. We were just talking about going to Graceland in the spring, how did you know?!)
Hope the rest of the OC enjoyed their sussies. Thanks to Beth and Amylia for arranging this wonderful little exchange!
Like many teenage girls, I bought all of Corey Hart's records and watched his videos on MTV (back when they played music!). I wrote him letters and talked about my favorite songs. Much to my surprise Corey started answering some of them. Ah, those were happy days :-) Later on I finally got to meet him a couple of times. And believe it or not, he actually remembered me. What a sweet man.
Music has always helped me deal with the ups and downs of diabetes. We all have those songs that reach inside and cry with us when things aren't right. Or, the ones that have us cranking our car stereos as loud as they'll go. What are some of yours?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Personally I've been lucky to avoid complications all these years, but I know others have these additional burdens, and someday it may be my turn in their shoes. My relatively good health hasn't come cheap, though. In preparing for my taxes, I discovered that I spent over $2,000 out-of-pocket on prescriptions and doctor visit co-pays for last year alone. This is no doubt far lower than what some others pay, but it still adds up. Add to that the days off work for things regular people don't usually give a second thought to (the flu, bad colds, and the ensuing blood sugar rollercoaster). And healthy eating can be expensive. Thank God I'm able to work and my husband also has a job; I'm also grateful for all the years my parents were able to help me out with either insurance coverage, or help with the hefty premiums. Without them I don't think I'd be as healthy as I am now.
All the same, we can't doubt the value of our care--after all, what's the alternative?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Ah, love at first sight! Which Duran was your favorite, girls of the OC? (I loved Simon Le Bon...my best friend loved John & Nick!)
Happy Friday, everyone!
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
6:45AM: Wake up groggy, as the cat has once again decided to walk on my head at 4:30 in the morning. And it was one of those rare nights when a crashing low didn't hit me between 3 and 5AM. Oh well. My first test of the day: 259. Ugh. Do a 2u Humalog shot to bring it down, hopefully, by the time I get to work.
8:40AM: After the hour-long, 10 mph slog in to downtown, dropping off my husband at his building, fighting crazy cab drivers, nearly hitting a deranged bicycle messenger, and jockeying for parking space in the garage, I'm finally at my desk. I check e-mail while testing again. Down to a respectable 159; I inject a little more Humalog (4u) so I can have a breakfast bar. I have a daylong meeting outside of the office, so as soon as I'm done I grab my coat and rush off.
10:40AM: Clock in at a nice 101. However, this is not good. I've unexpectedly been asked to help present for the next two hours; I won't have the chance to treat a low without disrupting the meeting. Instead of concentrating on what we're working on, I have to calculate the risk of running too high after eating/drinking something now, rather than take a chance on dropping any further. I decide to sip some juice during the presentation. Wrong call, as it turns out...
12:40PM: Ugh: 238, nearly back to where I started my day. Although I usually avoid doing so, I take a correction dose and a meal bolus together in one shot. I also take my daily Lantus shot. Lunch will be my last chance to eat for some time. Normally I repeat my morning approach--take a small correction dose, wait for signs of downward movement, then eat after injecting another small bolus. Today I'll be presenting again all afternoon, plus the caterer has orders to remove the food right after our break, so I can't delay my meal. I choose some steamed veggies, chicken, and a small dinner roll. Dessert is out of the question. (I could handle the sticky-sweet pastries on offer with extra insulin, but I'm a little 'old school' and still avoid everything but the odd slice of cake, or scoop of ice cream.) I have another Diet Coke and hope I don't go any higher.
2:40PM: Back down to 171. My lunchtime calculation seems to have paid off. Over the next two hours I stress out over some work issues with a difficult client, while fighting through traffic in a snowstorm to get back to my office. I'm spent by the time I finally reach my desk. I check a few e-mails, then call my husband and start the reverse slog/commute home.
5:40PM: What.the.h***: 60. Not the usual "I'm feeling weird, better test" 60, but a knock-down, drag-out, hands-shaking, Skittle-scarfing, husband-frightening 60. And it came from nowhere. My meter is an old el cheapo generic model and sometimes gives me funky numbers, so I suspect 60 is really 50. We sit in a local fast food joint while I cling to the table and wait for the floor to stop spinning. Amazing to think I managed to drive home through it all. I should have tested before I got going, but in the rush to leave I skipped it. My fault...
6:40PM: Home again, and back up to 166. I've had half a bag of Skittles and some peanut butter, and took a few units to cover it all. But I am too tired to move; for tonight I'm through fighting this beast. A gym workout becomes a pipe dream. At least "Celebrity Apprentice" looks mildly entertaining.
8:40PM: The rebound high hits, and I'm back to 231. I do a small correction shot, then sink back down on the couch. My husband rubs my back as the cat purrs in my lap. I'm ready to sleep, but e-mails and phonecalls keep me up for a couple hours. I finally hit the sheets at 10:40 and hope the next day brings better numbers.
In good news, my latest A1C (done last week) was 5.9. So I'm doing something right...
(P.S. Back in battle today, as my numbers have been off again all morning after a perfect waking test of 101. Oh well...maybe it's the Arctic chill 'round here that's to blame. Stay warm, everyone!)
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
(Beware--the registration button points you to the Hartford, CT Expo)
Regardless of your feelings toward the ADA, it's always cool to see what's going on out there in D-world...and stock up on freebies :-) If you're attending and would like to meet up, let me know!
Monday, January 14, 2008
I'm interested in learning better resistance training options. Right now I'm trying traditional free weights (7 lb. hand weights) and some machinery. My curiosity is piqued, however, by the idea of doing some exercises with stretch bands and/or an exercise ball. Anyone try this, and if so, is it worth checking out? We have weights, bands and a ball at home, and I'm thinking it will help during the week if we can't fit in a trip to the gym.
Back to Cube-ville for now...
Friday, January 11, 2008
"Honey, I don't think I can drive anymore. We need to go home."
My husband looked at me from the passenger seat. He said nothing, but I could feel him tense up with worry. We were lucky to be close to our apartment. I managed to park the car and get myself upstairs without incident, even though I was effectively blinded. The cat cuddled close by as I lay in bed, waiting for the storm to pass. Twenty minutes later I could finally see again. I opened my eyes and there was my little world, looking just the same as it always had. I closed them and saw blessed, serene darkness, a night sky with no moon. Silently I offered a prayer of thanks and relief.
"Retinal detachment" pops into my head every time this sideshow happens. As scary as it is, however, the true cause is (for once) not directly related to my diabetes. It's an ocular migraine, or migraine with aura. I suffered the first one in my early teens, and have had them once or twice every couple of years since then. Tonight was the same as always, complete with the usual terrifying special effects. My only luck is that I never get the post-aura headache, nausea or other typical symptoms. But I think I would trade them all for these silent, sudden monsters. They seem a particularly cruel way to torment someone who already has such a high risk for eye problems.
My ophthalmologist reassures me that ocular migraines are harmless. I hope so, although when one hits me I cower in fear, wondering if I'll be able to see when it's over. Is this what it's like to go blind? I wonder; I kick myself for all the times I let my diabetes get out of control; I beg and plead with God for the continued gift of sight. And every time my vision returns, I realize anew how fragile and precious my eyesight really is.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Believe it or not, one of my best options lately has been the Walgreens nearby. They recently started carrying freshly-made sandwiches and fruit from a local catering vendor, so I tried out one of their offerings. Not bad and not expensive, either. While there I pick up some handy snacks that can also treat lows, if necessary:
In the past I've also brought my lunch to work, which I've been doing more frequently to save money. (There may soon be a holy war over space in the fridge here in Cube-ville, however) Most of my colleagues never debate their lunchtime meal beyond choosing which fast food establishment to patronize. It amazes me that nutrition hardly elicits a second thought, when it's always a part of my internal dialogue. I'm comforted, at least, to know that other PWDs have similar food struggles.
How about you, fellow readers? What are your workday food tips, tricks and habits?
Monday, January 7, 2008
"I'm afraid you have diabetes," he said.
My mom burst into tears. Her mother had suffered from type 1 for 20 years. I remember trying to comfort her, saying "it's all right Ma" and holding her hand. The doctor read off the symptoms I'd been having and explained why I needed to go right to the hospital. I remember asking him if he was sure, since I hadn't been hungry at all. I was very calm; my doubt gave me strength. I was sure this was all just some temporary misunderstanding. I remember calling my dad from the room. Mom was still too upset to talk.
"Hi, Dad. The doctor thinks I have diabetes, so we have to go to Children's after we leave. I'll be OK, though, so don't worry." (Later Pop said he'd been working on a ladder at home and, when my brother handed him the phone, he nearly fell off it after hearing what I said.)
Children's Memorial Hospital was only three blocks away. I had been there once as a four-year-old, to have my tonsils removed, but never since. The gusty, humid wind hit me as we walked from the parking garage to the lobby. It was the last time I would be outdoors for eight days.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Friday, January 4, 2008
A few days later Mom and I were planning to go shopping. Dad needed a new Thermos, and though I had already downed two bottles of soda, I was already mentally mapping my route to the ice cream stand in the mall for another. First, though, we headed to the doctor for a checkup. The troubling symptoms could no longer be ignored. I wore tan corduroy pants that hung from my frame even with my belt cinched on the last notch. I remember thinking, wow, maybe I can finally fit into those skinny designer jeans now. Nothing seemed much out of the ordinary on that cold, bleak February morning as we entered the waiting room. For the first time, however, I had no problem filling a sample cup to overflowing.