Monday, June 30, 2008

Words To Live By

I stenciled this quote on my wall in my upstairs foyer. It’s the first thing I read when I turn the corner at the top of the stairs to head to the bathroom or to the bedroom:

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.” – Eleanor Roosevelt

I also have a quote from Alice In Wonderland on the wall:

“She generally gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom followed it.”

I am inspired to aspire by Ms. Roosevelt’s words. I most often relate to Alice’s predicament.

As always, more to come…

Friday, June 27, 2008

Plotting And Planning

Back in my “Ever Notice” entry, I said I was going to try to create a spiral pattern on my arm with “dots” from my testing. It was a passing whim when I wrote it, but I’ve since become very serious about this quest.

For the last week, maybe two, I’ve stopped testing on my left arm, my arm of preference, and instead been hitting up my right arm. The left-arm dots have all but vanished and I’m just trying to see if I can smooth out the light callus that’s formed before I start my design. I’m also experimenting a bit on my right arm, figuring out the spacing and such. I don’t want the spiral to be too big, but I want it to be easily identified when pointed out.

As I read this, I realize I may appear slightly crazy to some folks, and completely freaky to others. Some of you, though, may be intrigued with the idea just as much as I am, and anxious to see the results. (I promise to use my husband’s good digital camera so I get a nice shot, and I’ll post it here.) For those who question my sanity, I explain my quest as follows:

*Sometimes I am easily amused by the world around me. Sometimes I have to create my own amusement. This is one of those times.

*Testing is a rote action; like most PWD (look! I’m using the lingo! hope I did it right…), I can test while driving, typing on a keyboard, under a tablecloth in a restaurant, standing up, sitting down, crouching on the floor, holding an open can of diet soda in one hand, etc. It doesn’t take much thought. Not that I want to loose my ability to test under all circumstances and conditions, but this way I’ll be forced to actually think about it. Not sure if that will be good or bad; we’ll see.

*Testing is all about the number. While the number will still be important, obviously, there’s the added excitement of the design emerging. Not only is the number the “big result,” but the spiral will be, too.

*If I can’t have a little fun with needles and blood, what good is it to be a diabetic? Otherwise, I’d have to be a tattoo artist to get this kind of excitement.

Still sound crazy? Yes, I know, but keep it to yourself. I don’t want to scare more people than necessary…

As always, more to come…

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Who ARE These People?


I work on the 34th floor of a skyscraper in Chicago, and I have a beautiful view from my window. I can see Navy Pier, and I can see Lake Michigan. When it’s winter and cold and snowy, the lake looks like a frozen tundra and I’m happy I’m in my office, even if I am working.

However, when the weather heats up…. Jealousy, annoyance, curiosity and other things rear their head. You see, when it’s 85 degrees out, like it is today, the frozen tundra becomes a summer wonderland. I see little sailboats, bigger motor boats, people laying on the beach, people waterskiing, people jet-skiing, people wading in the water, Frisbees, rafts, the giant Ferris wheel on Navy Pier spinning ever so slowly while people filled with glee sit inside its little cars.

And it’s 2:30 in the afternoon.

Who are these people, and how come they get to be outside when I have to work?? Are they on vacation? Did they call in sick today? Are they independently wealthy? Are they trust-fund babies? Do they own their own law firm and are making the minions work while they yacht away on Lake Michigan? Did they make a killing at the Chicago Stock Exchange this morning and declare early retirement? Why don’t they have to work? Why can’t I be with them? When is my ship coming in? And when can I start taking it on tours around the lake in the middle of the afternoon?

I’m being petty, I know. I should be glad I have a job. Maybe the people are out there because they don’t have one (although I’m not sure how they’re affording a boat in that case…). But, really, it’s enough to make a girl close her blinds—almost. Because in the end, I guess it’s better to dream that one day I may be able to join the summer wonderland at 2:30 in the afternoon, than to not know such a place even exists.

As always, more to come…

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Just Say Yes!

Okay, so after the initial doctor debacle, I saw a different doctor yesterday afternoon. One who made looks of shock as I explained my story—and I even told it without trying to sound biased or perturbed, so I could get an honest reaction. Her reaction was to give me drugs.

I’ve known her for several years, and it’s a given for her and me that viral infections don’t wreak this kind of havoc on my sugars. She also believes that shining a light somewhere vaguely near my throat does not constitute an exam, and that poking my forehead between my eyes is not a complete sinus evaluation—there are about seven different pressure points for sinuses and this is only one. She also thought that “riding it out” for a couple more weeks to see if my fever went away on its own was ridiculous. “We’re doing this the old-fashioned, simple way—with antibiotics.” She gave me a prescription for Azithromycin, which treats bacterial infections.

The course is to take two the first night, then one a day for four more days. I took two last night when I got home. When I woke up this morning, 12 hours later, my temperature was 98.7, the first time it was somewhere near normal in 12 days. I did a light workout on the treadmill and my fever spiked to 99.3, so obviously I need the full course of medication. But still, if the antibiotics managed to make a dent in my fever within 12 hours…

And I will point out that my printout from the pharmacy specifically states, “Azithromycin will not work for viral infections.” Hmmm…. If what I have really is a viral infection, as the good resident and her supervisor told me on Monday, then taking them wouldn’t have had any effect on my fever whatsoever. Plhhhhhhhhh! (written raspberry).

But on a less superior and triumphant mode, I did learn a very valuable lesson from all of this: If my regular doctor is unavailable, it’s better to wait an extra day than to accept service from someone who doesn’t know who I am, doesn’t know I’m not a hypochondriac, hasn’t read my file in great detail, and who only knows basic textbook knowledge of diabetes. And it’s always worth it to get a second opinion if I’m not certain I trust the first one.

Here’s to the glory of antibiotics—my future is bright and fever-free…and maybe even filled with a piece of carrot cake once my sugars settle down!

As always, more to come…

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Just Say No, Because They Told Me I Had To

Damn. No drugs. Evidently I’m sick, just not sick enough.

After 11 days of a low-grade fever, the dregs of a cold, and wacked-out sugars, I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon. My regular doctor was unavailable, so they gave me a resident. I didn’t like her. She asked questions that sounded straight from a med-school year one text book. When she went to look at my throat, she had to stand on tiptoe, and did it from two feet away, vaguely shining a light in the direction of my face. “Say ahhh.” “Ahhh.” “Wait—say ahhh again.” “Ahhh.”

She told me there really wasn’t anything to do, but she had to talk to her supervisor. I waited. He came in. He was very nice, and very condescending. “Sometimes, Lora, viral infections take a while to run their course. Eleven days is certainly within that time frame. If you still have a fever after, say, two more weeks, come back then.”

I felt stupid and frustrated. I normally wouldn’t go to the doctor for a low-grade fever—I’m not an idiot. But this is the first one I’ve had that’s lasted eleven days. And certainly the first one I’ve had that lasted eleven days with a dose of diabetes on the side. Silly me for believing all the literature that says if you’re diabetic and have a fever for more than three days, even a little one, you should see a doctor. I waited 11 days because I didn’t want to seem like one of those people who ran to the doctor for every little thing. Evidently, though, based on the tone of the resident and the supervisor, I am one of those people.

So now, there’s nothing to do but wait. All in all, I could be sitting around with a fever for a total of four weeks, sugars running amuck, going through sweating and freezing phases, feeling completely lethargic, and having phlegmmy substances running from my head down the back of my throat (which I dare say the doctor might have seen had she stood on a stepstool or gotten a few inches closer).

I’m getting a second opinion from a different doctor today, in an unofficial capacity. If she thinks there is something more that should have been done, I’m going to e-mail my endo, or try to make an appointment with my regular doctor. If she agrees, I’ll just wait it out, take naps and let the sugars do what they may.

As always, more to come…

Monday, June 23, 2008


I got my second cold of the season about a week and a half ago, along with a fever that’s been running between 99.3 and 100.4. While the nasty part of the cold is gone—the continuous sneezing and the fully congested-can’t-breathe head—there’s a little bit still hanging on. And the fever is still there.

In fact, the fever is still so much there, that I thought something was wrong with my thermometer. I kept sticking it in my husband’s mouth to see what kind of reading he would get: 98.7, 98.6. Not a thermometer issue.

I’m guessing there’s some sort of infection hanging on somewhere, a hangover from the cold that doesn’t want to go away. Unfortunately, the uninvited houseguest has brought wacked-out numbers with it. I’ve upped my insulin intake from 34 units to 40 and I’m still waking up and going to bed with high numbers, and having all sorts of ups and downs inbetween.

I don’t really like going to the doctor for silly things like colds; I feel like I should just suck it up and ride it out and not be such a hypochondriac or a baby. But since it’s day 11 of the fever, and things don’t seem to be improving (I was 99.6 this morning), it’s time. Plus, I’d really like to eat a real meal without watching my numbers go through the roof, or not go through the roof, or do whatever the hell they want, as dictated by the fever.

My regular doctor isn’t available today, but I have an appointment with an associate at 3:30. Here’s hoping for some good antibiotics. And not feeling sweaty in the middle of the night. And not feeling really, really tired. And not being afraid to breathe around anyone. And…

As always, more to come…

Friday, June 20, 2008

Down For The Count

Conversation with husband, held while he’s heating up a beautiful quesadilla on the stove, loaded with carbohydrates and flavor, and after I’ve checked my blood sugar and it’s 135…

Me: This whole carb thing sucks.

Him: You’re just realizing this now?

Me: No. But sometimes it just really sucks.

Him: Sorry, babe.

Me: I know. Can you leave that pan out when you’re done? I have to make scrambled eggs for dinner. Did you know one giant olive has one carbohydrate?

Him: Olives have carbohydrates?

Me: I know. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?

Life in the dinner of a diabetic on serious carb count.

As always, more to come…

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Ever Notice...

How a stuffed-up head can feel a lot like low blood sugar?

When you’re the hungriest you’ve ever been, your sugar is the highest it’s ever been, and you’re stuck eating eggs…again?

Your meter lies to you? Says you’re 94 when you KNOW you’ve got to be 70 at the highest?

That you can delay that high number by a few seconds by covering up the screen with your finger? Then revealing the first number (a 1! Yay!), the last number (5—could mean anything) and holding your breath before you reveal the middle number, the power number (1! Yippee! 4. Crap. Anything higher I numb my brain to.)

How, even though you swore you’d never need Algebra, Geometry or Trigonometry after high school, because you were going to be an English major and do artsy things for a living, numbers play such a big part in your life?

When you have a fever, your sugars go up; you exercise to bring them down, so you can eat, but drain your body of the energy it needs to heal? Vicious circle.

How people who know you have diabetes and who see you check your blood, try to ignore it when your arm is bleeding and there’s a beeping meter on your desk (mostly happens at work)? I don’t necessarily want to share my personal numbers with them, but it’s a little creepy—like avoiding the huge elephant with the nosebleed in the room.

How when it’s time for bed, you’re exhausted and all you want is your pillow, that when you do one last blood check, the meter says 83? I hate force-feeding at 10pm when I’m half asleep.

A specific pattern on the arm of a Freestyle meter user? I’ve decided I’m going to try to create a perfect spiral…

How hard it is to keep a big number from crushing your day, when you thought you were so on the money?

That walking on the grass barefoot in the park doesn’t seem like a luxury, but actually is?

As always, more to come…

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Dr. Who

When I was diagnosed with diabetes, I didn’t have a regular doctor. I didn’t have health insurance, so I never went. I was pretty healthy. Until I wasn’t.

When I knew something was terribly wrong, I called the medical center right near where I work and got a doctor referral, based on who was available to see me as soon as possible. He diagnosed me with Type 1 Diabetes and gave me Lantus. It was 4th of July weekend, and he was about to go out of town, so he had a nurse show me how to do a shot, made an appointment to see me on Monday (three days away) and told me if I started throwing up, I should go to the emergency room.

Less than 36 hours later, I was throwing up and drove myself to the ER near my house. The doctor who was in the emergency room became my doctor, at least for the time I was in the hospital.

When I got out, I realized I needed a real doctor. I chose a good hospital/medical center near my house, read doctor’s bios online and picked one. My first doctor was perfect. I was already overwhelmed and I couldn’t handle being anymore overwhelmed, so I just wanted her to keep me alive. As it turns out, she diagnosed me with Graves disease and sent me to an endocrinologist—not for the diabetes, but for the thyroid.

Since I was new, and didn’t want information, I told my endo I was fine with the diabetes part, and that I just wanted him to deal with the thyroid. He was wise. He said okay, but to let him know if I had questions. My regular doctor just made sure my HbA1c was okay and didn’t ask any other questions or give me any other information.

About a year or so later, I wanted a doctor who wouldn’t just push me off on the nurse practitioner, and who would actually take an active role in my diabetes, so I got a referral and tried a different doctor. He asked more questions, did a little more delving, but I always got the impression he didn’t really know a whole lot about diabetes, and that I was teaching him more than he was teaching me.

Flash forward and I get married, get health insurance and have to pick a doctor in my HMO plan. The only doctor’s name I recognize is my endocrinologist, who I actually like. So I e-mail him and ask him which doctor I should go with. He gives me three names and I pick one.

She’s my current doctor and she’s very nice. She seems to know a little bit about diabetes, but since my numbers are generally under control, there’s no big discussions or plans of action. The time before last when I went to see her, I didn’t like some of my readings and asked for a referral to my endo.

I documented everything I ate, every drop of insulin, every blood test and every minute of exercise for a week so I could show him what was going on. After checking a few things, he basically told me if it wasn’t broke, we weren’t going to fix it. He said I was doing really well on the program I was on, and he was hesitant to change it. He did put me on Lipitor—my cholesterol was a little higher than he thought it should be for a diabetic and he wanted the number to come down.

My big question that I’m struggling with now is, what kind of doctor do I want? What kind of doctor do I need? What kind of diabetes health care system do I want in place? I do really well on my own, but sometimes I feel like I want a second opinion. My endo will give that to me, but my visits to him are yearly at best—should I be seeing him more often, even if I’m under control? Should I get a diabetes educator? Will they have information and ideas I can use? Do I just need a sounding board? Do I just need to do more research on my own and find out how everybody else is handling it?

I want someone who knows what needs to be known about diabetes, who knows how I play into that information and who will keep me doing my best to control it. I don’t want someone who’s too over-active, though—I don’t want to be put on medications I may not need to be on or have a zillion tests done “just in case.” I want a doctor who tells me what’s best for me, not me telling them. Does one exist? Does one exist on an HMO?

I realized a long time ago, nearly from the start, that I would have to be the lead person on my diabetes management, and I’m okay with that. But shouldn’t I have a few other people on board with me? Not even Horatio in Miami does everything all by himself…

As always, more to come…

Monday, June 16, 2008

Cake For Breakfast

Yes, I had cake for breakfast.

I like to bake and we had nothing sweet in the house this weekend, so I made a yellow cake with homemade chocolate buttercream frosting. It was mostly for my husband, who swore he would eat most of it. (He also decided to decorate it with blue crystal sugar and little sugar dots, as if the buttercream frosting weren’t enough of a sugar festival.)

The problem is, if there’s cake in the house, I’m going to eat it. And while cake is definitely in the “after-dinner-for-dessert” category, at night is when my sugars run highest. To solve this dilemma, I’ve gotten used to eating the good stuff for breakfast, when my sugars are most under control, and when I have the rest of the day to compensate with exercise or a few less carbs.

So, for breakfast this morning, I had cake. My sugars were a little high when I woke up because I’ve been fighting another damn cold and running a fever: 107. I ate cake anyway; a smallish piece with a cold glass of milk. Two hours later: 118. Not bad.

Of course, I’ll have to watch that number pretty closely, because the cake is mostly sugar and it may cause a divebomb. Also? When I’m sick? I can run high, but then all of a sudden I’ll shift and be low. More than once this weekend I said a bad word after seeing a 147, and then said another bad word after seeing a 78 an hour and a half later.

But you know what? A few extra blood checks are worth it. That cake for breakfast was really good.

As always, more to come…

UPDATE: I had a yucky day and decided to eat cake for dinner (along with some cauliflower and a few tater tots, eaten separately from the cake). When I went to bed, my sugar was 159. Ick, ick, ick. Now you know why I have cake for breakfast…

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Testing, 1, 2, 3..,

I woke up late this morning. Actually, I woke up on time, gave my snooze alarm multiple slaps, then called my dogs onto the bed so I could give and get some extra attention.

When I physically got out of bed, I didn’t have time to do my regular 45 minutes on the treadmill. I’ve been trying to put some weight-training into my exercise routine and haven’t been able to figure out how to cram it into my schedule, so I figured I’d use the 10 minutes I did have for exercise to do something about my arms (it’s sleeveless season, you know). So I did a quickie DVD Pilates routine that involves twirling Pilates circles on your arms (it’s harder than it sounds). It’s supposed to give you long, lean muscles. I used to do it on a regular basis and I don’t know about the long and lean part, but my arms felt stronger. And it only took 10 minutes, so what the heck.

(side note: I just realized that I seem to be obsessed as of late with circular exercise—the arm circles, the hula hoop…)

So. It’s fairly nice outside right now—the forecast says rain but I’m hoping it will hold off for another couple hours—so I think I’m going to use my lunch break to walk the track near my office.

I ate lunch around 12ish (bs 71 before, ate 2 carb units). It’s 2ish right now, so I’ll test and see where I’m at before I go….

Testing 1: 103. I won’t exercise unless I’m above 100. 103 is close, but since I’m just going to walk the track (I still have to come back to work and I don’t want to be all sweaty), I’ll leave it at 103 and won’t eat anything before I go. I’m pretty sure when I get back, I’ll be on the downswing, so we’ll see…

Testing 2: 80. I just did 50 minutes of walking (okay, 45; the last 5 minutes I was on the swingset in the park next to the track. usually it’s being hogged by a bunch of little kids, but today the park was empty, so I got to swing. yay.). So, as suspected, I’m down. I have a small cup of pasta salad from home and I’ll eat that. Hopefully it will carry me through the end of the work day. I’ll catch up again at 6ish and we’ll see where I’m at…

Testing 3: 90. I’m leaving work in about six minutes, so this is perfect. It will get me home and I’ll be low enough to have a carb or two for dinner. Yay!

There’s my afternoon. Just like that. 1. 2. 3.

As always, more to come…

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

A Moment In Time

My sugars seem to be somewhat back on track—especially since I didn’t check before I went to bed last night, so I couldn’t see the high number (I was hungry and ate too many carbs and I knew it).

So, instead of talking about my diabetes, I’m going to make a list of all the things I do to make it look like I’m busy at work, when I just don’t feel like doing actual work at the moment. My disclaimer: I’m a damn fine employee and earn every cent I make, but there are moments in my week when I need a brain break in order to operate better. These are my moments…

1. Surf the net. This involves many different Web sites. Now, technically, some of them I should be reading for work. My job is very pop-culture oriented, so if I’m reading TMZ or Hollywood Reporter, it’s to get the latest celeb information. It’s also plausible for me to be on the Entertainment Weekly and People magazine Web sites; it’s not necessarily plausible for me to be reading the Lost recaps, though, so I have to be careful. And, if I’m doing too much surfing, then it’s too obvious. Luckily, my browser has tabs, and if someone important walks by, I just quickly click my e-mail tab so it looks like I’m reading an important correspondence.

2. Google people. People from grade school, junior high, high school, college, previous jobs, family members and basically anyone who pops into my head. It’s fun. You should try it.

3. Read blogs. Diabetes blogs, author blogs and anything else that piques my interest. I’m a compulsive reader, so it’s not hard to catch my eye with a fun turn of phrase.

4. Write my blog. Like I’m doing now. (My e-mail screen is right behind, so I can just click on it and this will tuck neatly behind it.)

5. Balance my checkbook. I don’t remember the last time I checked my bank statement at home. In fact, if memory serves me, when I tried to do it months ago, my bank said it didn’t recognize my home computer and made me jump through hoops. This is a bit trickier, so I usually do it when my boss is at lunch. However, with the proper placement of work papers, I can slide my check register in and out of sight as needed. I also pay my bills online.

6. Nap. Well, I don’t actually fall asleep, but I will close my eyes. I have to read a lot of pages, and if I turn just so in my chair so you can’t see my face from the door, and prop my head up with my hand, I can make it look like I’m reading. I will say that I only do this if I’m feeling ill and really need 10 winks.

7. Test my blood. Technically, I can do this in about 30 seconds. However, if I need about three minutes, I can really draw out the process.

8. Read magazines. Actually part of my job—the pop culture thing again. My company subscribes to just about every magazine out there, from Soap Opera Digest to Vogue to Star. I can’t technically just sit at my desk and read for hours, but I can do the “I’m just glancing through” for a good 15 minutes. And if no one is paying attention, I can do it for an hour.

9. Organize e-mails. Again, could be considered actual work, but I find it a mindless and easy task to put a checkmark next to the e-mails I want to move, then click to put them in a different folder.

10. Go to the bathroom. My office building doesn’t have bathrooms in the offices; there’s one woman’s restroom and one men’s restroom per floor. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on the situation), the women’s bathroom is down the hall, down another hall and down another hall. It only takes about 35 seconds to get there, but it’s a nice little break from sitting at my desk and staring at my computer screen (especially after I’ve Googled about 26 people).

I think that’s it, and I take full claim to my slacker ways.

As always, more to come (because there will be more moments when I don’t want to do work tasks, and will use this blog to take a break)…

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Backseat Driver

I’m really stressed this week. I have a lot of stress going on. I’m creating stress for myself. Stress is being thrown at me. I’m stressed about the word stressed because suddenly it sounds strange in my mouth and when I type it. Stress, stress, stressed.

You get the idea. The thing is, I have so much on my mind that I’m barely thinking about the diabetes thing. I’m doing blood tests, but not as often. I’m sort of watching my carbs, but also not paying as close attention as I should. I’ve upped my insulin and kept it up. I’m continuing to exercise, but not so much for diabetes as the fact that it’s supposed to help reduce stress, and the 45 minutes on the treadmill reading a book of my choice seems to be my only point of brain disconnect in the day. I’m letting my diabetes take a backseat.

And, aye, here’s the rub. Stress can have a pretty big impact on my sugar levels. When I’m stressed is one of the times I should be paying extra attention to my diabetes. When I stress, not only does the emotion make an impact, but the way I hold stress in my body does, too. I clench my jaw, grind my teeth, hold my neck and shoulders stiff and rigid—all of which causes body pain, which makes my sugar levels go up. And the energy I expend worrying about everything? It sometimes makes my sugar levels drop unexpectedly.

And if that’s not enough, I’m a comfort eater (I’ve said it before; I’m admitting it again), so I tend to gravitate toward things that make me feel better; things like bread and carrot cake and pizza and peanut butter anything—all things I usually have to take special care with. On the flip side, stress can also make me lose my appetite, and can make me so preoccupied I tell myself there’s no time for a real meal. High. Low. High. Low.

I’m going to take some deep breaths. I’m going to put some plans of action into place. I’m going to look at fish (they say that reduces stress, too) and pet my dogs. I’m going to hula-hoop in my backyard and scare the neighbors (did I mention I do this on a regular basis?). I’m going to try to reduce my stress. And, while I’m at it, I’m going to try to pay more attention to my diabetes. I may have put it in the backseat, but it’s still got a hold of the steering wheel, and big and little numbers only stress me out more.

As always, more to come…

Monday, June 9, 2008

Out, Damn Spot

That damn carrot cake. Why, why, why can’t I resist? My weak spot forever more…

As always, more to come (and yes, I’m talking about the carrot cake, too, because I know I have no will power)…

Thursday, June 5, 2008

To Do List

1. My computer at home died. MAC says I need a new internal hard drive; they can do it, but I can do it cheaper elsewhere. After spending half my morning trying to figure out where to go and what to tell them when I got there, I decided it’s worth the extra cash just to go back to MAC and have them do it. I just don’t know enough about computers to talk my way through anywhere else. More money = less stress.

2. I have to make an appointment for Molly. Molly is one of my two dogs. In addition to me requiring shots to keep myself alive, Molly also needs shots. She has Addison’s disease and needs one shot a month. The vet is nice enough to give us supplies to shoot her up for two months in a row, then on the third month we go back to him for a check-up and more supplies. Next weekend she’s due to see the puppy doc.

3. Two of my prescriptions are almost out. My generic Synthroid for my Grave’s disease, and my Lipitor for my cholesterol. My thyroid was radiated about six months after my diabetes dx, thus, my daily need for synthetic replacement. My cholesterol is within range for a normal person, but leaning toward high for a diabetic. My endo is being proactive (though not proactive enough to find me a substitute for Lipitor that my health insurance will cover).

4. I’ve got one more assignment due to meet my final deadline of tomorrow. This is work-related, but it falls in my “pressing” category, as well as my “I don’t really feel like doing this” category.

5. Win the lottery, hire a personal assistant to take care of all this crap (and about a million other things I won’t bore the general population with), retire to a beautiful island and take regular long trips to my other three residences in various countries. Oh, and hire a team of scientists to solely work on figuring out how to cure diabetes.

As always, more to come (if I can get through all the other minutiae)…

Wednesday, June 4, 2008


What my meter might read later on, because at lunch today, I ate, ate, ate.

It’s gloomy outside—there’s so much fog I can’t see out my window. It’s gloomy inside—everyone is stressing over a major deadline and things are crazy. It’s gloomy in my head—I have allergies and I feel like there’s just as much fog inside as out. It’s gloomy in my emotions—I just feel ‘blah’ today, like the world is out to get me or like it doesn’t even care.

I’m a comfort eater. I used to be a comfort shopper until I discovered a cookie was cheaper than a new pair of shoes. Now I’m trying to convince myself that exercise should be my new comfort, but today I failed. Instead of eating my salad and Wheat Thins and taking a walk, I took myself out for lunch. I had a sandwich, chips and a couple of mini cookies.

I won’t actually be 888, obviously, but I’m guessing that salad (no carb) will be all I get for dinner.

As always, more to come…

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Do Tell (or don't)

I was visiting acquaintance-friends the other day (wives of my husband’s friends) and one of them asked how my diabetes was. I don’t see them very often and we really don’t keep in touch, but they’re very nice and I know it was a genuine question. I said I was doing well. They asked a few other questions and I answered with easy, quick replies that wouldn’t be too confusing.

I’m more than happy to tell people who are interested every little detail about my diabetic life. However, when people ask how I’m doing, I’m always a little leery about whether they really want to know, or if their question is more like a “Hi! How are you?” type of greeting that you throw to your elevator buddy (the person who works on the floor of your building, but not in your office).

Do you tell, or don’t you? How much information do you give? I sometimes forget how much I can sputter on about meters and blood sugar levels when other people have no clue what I’m talking about. I don’t want to be the one at the party or gathering who turns out to be the “medically challenged” person who can only talk about prescriptions and injections. I am diabetic, but I’m also a lot more than that, and I can actually hold an intelligent, interesting conversation that has nothing to do with carbohydrates or insulin.

It’s been almost five years and I’m still trying to fit diabetes into an etiquette book. DO make polite small talk. DO NOT bore your chit-chat partner. DO say something interesting and unique about yourself. DO NOT give lectures or lessons when they’re not asked for. Perhaps I should become the new Emily Post, with a specialty in chronic illnesses?

As always, more to come…

Monday, June 2, 2008

29 Pieces Of Irony

I’ve been running high for about a week and my sugar doesn’t seem to want to come down and even out. I’ve reduced my carbs and have been really, really counting every bite that passes my lips. I’m exercising 45 minutes every morning and even that’s not having the effect I want it to. I’ve bumped up my insulin little by little over the past few days to see if I can get a handle on it all.

I just checked my e-mail and there’s an ad for a gourmet chocolatier. “29 pieces to try.” (290 carbs to avoid.)

As always, more to come…