You know you're a diabetic moving into a new place when:

• You pack extra glucose meter test strips, baby diapers, and toilet paper into the same box because you know you will need both on the first day.
• You're watching at the window for the cable guy so you can get yourself back online and immersed in the diabetes blogosphere.
• You don't care that there's an ice maker in the new fridge, but more than there's a handy compartment that's PERFECT for insulin storage.
• There's a whole box labeled "Diabetes Supplies."
  
• You're grateful that the hardwoods are being installed because it will be easier to find rogue test strips.
• The washer dryer combo looks like a spaceship command unit and you have no idea how to work it.  (Wait, that's just me?  Domestic goddess I am not.)
• Even though the fridge is almost entirely empty, there's still a bottle of grape juice at the ready.  (And a pitcher of iced coffee.  Priorities!!)
• You buy a smaller garbage can for the kitchen to leave room under the sink for a massive, red sharps container.
  
• There's a space in the walk-in closet that's dedicated solely to stacking insets, insulin reservoirs, and test strip bottles.  Not to mention lancets, which I've had the same seven boxes for the last four years and I never manage to use them up.  (Something tells me I should change my lancet today.) 
• And: You test the wall outlets by plugging the Dexcom receiver in to charge.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

The Dunlap crew was at Friends for Life this past July as TheBetes: Now, filming people talking about their 24/7 experiences with diabetes.  Bennet (brave soul) decided to stick me in front of the camera for a few seconds so I could offer up my take on what defines me.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

We're packing and hauling and moving this week, and there is so much getting lost in the shuffle.  Like cats.  And epically-important diaper bags.  Car keys.  And iced coffees that I just put down for a second but then disappear into the cardboard ether. 

Yesterday, I had to run a errand on the fly, so I showered off the grime, dressed quickly, and left.  (Thankfully, BSparl was in the care of her aunt for the day, so Chris and I could focus on packing.)  I was gone about two hours, but it wasn't until I got back close to the house that I realized something was missing.

My pump.

I had taken it off before showering and totally spaced on putting it back on.

Realizing my mistake, I felt that warm rush of panic spread over me as I foraged in my purse for my meter. 

Which was also missing.  Left right on the bathroom counter, next to it's pumpy pal.

I pulled into a parking space and called Chris to have him help me bring up the boxes.  

"What's missing from my outfit?"  I asked him, disgusted with myself.  (And also not realizing that a question about a woman's outfit - especially a woman who is dealing with post-pregnancy body image issues - is so loaded that if I were Chris, I would have turned and run.)

"From your outfit?  I don't know ..." He scanned me.  I gestured towards my hip.

"Oh no, your pump?"

"Yup.  On the bathroom counter.  Since my shower.  Awesome."

"Are you high now?"

"Didn't test.  My meter?  Also on the damn counter."

And now I have to check all the boxes we've packed to see what one I mistakenly stuck my mind in. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (27) | TrackBacks (0)

Thanks to the move we have on tap for tomorrow and the fact that we're up to our eyeballs in packing tape and cardboard boxes (and also that we've accidentally packed Siah into three boxes now ... that cat had better be careful or she'll end up in the moving van), now is a great time for a guest post from a fellow diabetes blogger. 

This morning's post comes from Jacquie of Typical Type 1, and I'm very honored to be sharing her writing talent here on SUM!

I swear I wasn't trying to get out of jury duty.

See, I was in the juror pool, answering questions about my job, my home ownership status and the last parking ticket I'd received, when the judge asked one question of all of us: "Is there anything we should know about that may impede your ability to serve as a juror in this trial?"

Sheepishly, I raised my hand. "I have Type 1 diabetes," I admitted. "It's not a huge deal, but there may be a few minutes when I'm not able to pay complete attention. I may have to eat something in the middle of the trial."

For a second, no one said anything. Then the judge spoke up: "Hundreds of thousands of Americans have diabetes, and they're able to perform everyday tasks like jury duty. If you need to eat, just let us know, and we'll take a recess."

I nodded, and accepted my fate as a diabetic juror. (Also, I felt like kind of a dumb ass for even saying anything.) While I sat there and listened to the details of the trial and the life stories of my fellow jurors, the weird familiarity of the situation started to sink in. Of course I know that hundreds of thousands of Americans live with diabetes, Your Honor. Of course we're all able to perform everyday tasks with relative ease. Of course I'm a normal person – except for the times when I'm not. Sometimes I have to excuse myself from a meeting or a bridal shower to shotgun a juice box. Sometimes I wear a mechanical pancreas in my cleavage. Sometimes I say things on the phone with insurance company customer service representatives that I would never say to a person in real life. But I'd be darned if some innocent citizen was going to go to jail because I'd miscalculated my breakfast bolus and spaced out on the defense's arguments.

This was a perfect example of the proverbial tightrope we all walk as people with diabetes. Lean too far to one side, and you're Sick. Fragile. Old before your time. Wilford Brimley's biggest fan, with a collection of pill organizers and sad story to tell anyone who asks you how your day is going. Teeter too far to the other side, and your friends, family members and co-workers begin to believe that your diabetes is no big deal, after all. They'll become convinced that your insulin pump does all the work for you, that diabetes is no more of an inconvenience than the task of flossing, that maybe if you just exercised more or laid off the Cinnamon Toast Crunch, your health problems would effectively disappear.

Before I started wearing my pump – and way before I started connecting with others in the diabetes online community – I treated my disease as an accessory. I wasn't embarrassed about it, but I wasn't exactly forthcoming, either. I gave myself injections in cars and at dinner tables the way other people apply lipstick. I kept up with everything, but I didn't obsess over it. Every once in a while, a roommate would complain about my trail of test strips, or someone would shoot me a look while I tested in public, and I would retreat into a more secretive or jocular mode, shrugging off diabetes like it was a case of the sniffles or pesky rash.
Now that I'm in my thirties, I feel like it's a tougher performance than ever. I don't want anyone to assume that I need to eat lunch just because it's noon, but I also want people to know that when I need to take a break from normal life to treat a low, I'm not screwing around. I really do feel like crap, and I really am in a potentially scary situation. Forty-five minutes later, however, I feel as average as they come. (Assuming I haven't overtreated, of course, but that's an entirely different kettle of Swedish Fish.)

I suppose the balance between "sick” and "normal" is just as difficult to achieve as a consistent blood sugar level that's not too high or too low. The story of Type 1 diabetes – and how any person lives with a chronic illness – is a complicated and nuanced one, and it takes decades to tell.

Am I a healthy person who happens to have diabetes, or a diabetic person who happens to have a pretty healthy life? For this girl, the jury's still out.

*   *   *

Thanks, Jacquie!  And for you guys, what's your take on that last bit?  Are you a healthy person who has diabetes, or a diabetic person who has their health?  

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (38) | TrackBacks (0)

The team at Johnson and Johnson visited my home when BSparl was about 2 1/2 months old, filming a short segment on pregnancy, pre-existing diabetes, and the impact of the diabetes community on emotional health management.  (Phew - sounds heavier than it actually is.)  I am proud that JnJ decided to make my story part of their video series, and I hope BSparl enjoyed having the camera turned towards her round little dome.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (34) | TrackBacks (0)

I woke up yesterday morning at a blood sugar of 158 mg/dl.  A little on the spikey side, but no worries - after I breastfeed BSparl, I usually drop about 40 points, so I figured I'd use her feeding as my "bolus."  By 8:45 am, I was down to 129 mg/dl.  And then things hit a downward slide that I couldn't control.  

Over the course of the next five hours, I tested several times and saw the numbers tumbling all over the place.  At one point, I had to leave the baby fussing in her crib because I was attending to a 38 mg/dl.  The next blood sugar I saw was 29 mg/dl.  And then 61 mg/dl.  And then 55 mg/dl.  Hours were going by, and carbs were being consumed, but they weren't making a dent on the determined low blood sugar. 

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Dexcom wailing to let me know I was, once again, under 50 mg/dl.

Shunk.

Another blood sugar test confirmed yet another low.

Hours kept ticking by but I wasn't coming up. It took until 4 pm to see a blood sugar over 100 mg/dl, and then all hell broke loose on the other side.  After over eight hours wrestling with a low blood sugar, my body decided to flip upside down and let all the hourglass sands go to the other side, sending my numbers up into the 400's.  Why on Earth was I low for so long?  And why did I rebound so hard after treating the multiple lows modestly?  

(I keep picturing the carbs, hiding out behind my lungs, waiting to actually enter my blood stream and then all screaming in at once.  "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" waging war, holding pixie sticks over their heads as they come charging in, full force, for the freaking rebound.)

Which, of course, happened in full force with a gorgeous 405 mg/dl around 9:30 pm.  Yes, I lost track of time between 6 - 9 pm, when apparently the Dexcom graph shows a sharp spike upward.  But still - low all day?  ALL day?  

You know it's been a rough diabetes day when your total dose from 7 am - 6 pm is only 8u, yet your 6 pm - midnight dose is 29u. Diabetes kicked my hat.  Kicked it right-proper.

(We're definitely installing this emergency box.  If nothing else, at least lows will be delicious.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

(The subject line makes sense ... sort of.)  This morning I have a few bits and pieces from the ol' inbox to share, so it's sort of like a Friday Six. Only it's on a Wednesday.  And I only have three.

If it's for Barton, I'm all over it.  Over the summer, I visited Clara Barton Camp and met Melissa "Rebel" Kauffman.  She's awesome.  She's also running the NYC Marathon to raise money for Barton, and she's looking for support from anyone who has a little to give.  Here's the deal, in her words:

"Five people with diabetes representing The Barton Center for Diabetes Education are running in the NYC Marathon this November as a fund raiser for Barton day camps.  I am a 3rd generation type 1 diabetic myself and run XC and Track for Oregon State University.  This past summer, I worked on the health care team for The Barton Center's Camp Clara Barton and Camp Joslin. I believe that this charity event is a great way to show the over 2,00 children with diabetes who participate in The Barton Center programs every year that you can do anything if you have diabetes - even run a marathon!

My goal is to raise $3200.00 by November 7th the money raised will go to the Barton Day Camps that reach out to hundreds of kids in the northeast every year.  Please help by donating to:

Melissa "Rebel" Kauffman NYC Marathon
The Barton Center For Diabetes Education
30 Enis Rd.
Oxford Ma. 01537
or by calling 508-987-2056"

If you can lend a hand to this rebel-rouser, please do!  

Secondly on this truncated Six is some information from the team at WEGO Health.  Their Community Director passed on some information about a type 2-centric focus group that they're putting together, so I wanted to spread the word to you guys.  Here WEGO with the info:

"Join WEGO Health’s new Online Panel for Diabetes Health Activists
In their ongoing work to empower Health Activists, WEGO Health is hosting an Online Panel of Diabetes Health Activists.  The panel will “meet” monthly (meetings are held virtually – on the phone and online) to share their feedback and experiences with Type 2 Diabetes communities online.  Panelists will get a $25 Amazon.com gift certificate for each meeting they’re able to attend, and WEGO Health will also make a $200 donation on behalf of each panelist to the diabetes non-profit of their choice.  Please note that this panel is being held on behalf of one of WEGO Health’s sponsors.
 
Interested in joining the Online Panel of Diabetes Health Activists?  Get started by taking the Diabetes Community Insight Survey from WEGO Health: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/FT5NM93
 
Questions about the Panel? Contact WEGO Health at: community@wegohealth.com"

And last but not least:  my conference wife Jenni Prokopy (editrix of ChronicBabe) needs our help getting her panel chosen for SXSW 2011.  She sent out some details on how to vote, if you're looking to help, so here are the details from Jenni herself:

"Just a couple more days remain to vote for my SXSW interactive panel. Health Communities: Superheroes Who Need a Justice League will aim to help people build better sites that truly help each other - and this is the FIRST year sxsw has held a health track, so it's extra important to be included. i can't get there without your help! please take just one minute today to register and vote up my panel, and please spread the word." 

Click here to vote for Jenni's panel!

So there you have it.  Some link love well worth the click.  Thanks for helping out any and all of these people who are making a difference!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I've heard that fear is a pretty good motivator.  Over my two plus decades with diabetes, I've heard the "fear tactic" from many medical professionals.  Actual statements:  "Make sure you test or your eyes will become diseased and you'll go blind." And "If you don't take care of yourself, you'll lose a leg when you're older."  And of course, "If you eat that, you'll end up with complications and then you'll have to live with that."  (see also:  ugh)

Fear has never been a good motivator for me.  When I'm scared, I have a tendency to hole up and hide.  When I think about the future of my diabetes, I know there is a good chance I will have some kind of complication. I have sat in the endocrinologist's office far too many times to tune out the threat of "what might happen."  I know what could be brewing.  Like it or not, I understand the effects of unmanaged diabetes.  I work hard to manage diabetes.  But I'm not so hot with managing the fear.

And if, for even a second, I forgot what diabetes complications may be waiting in the wings, I have many things to remind me.  Like the pamphlets at doctor's offices.  And the commercials on TV.  And videos about how diabetes can cost you a leg.  

That video makes me so frustrated because if I had seen it before the diabetes online community had bloomed, I would have been so distressed.  The images in that video would have haunted me, but not in a way that would impact my diabetes favorably.  That kind of video makes me want to stick my head in the sand and pretend it's not happening, instead of taking charge and control of my own disease and realizing I have the ability to impact my future health TODAY.

I think it's more important to remember that there is a good chance I WON'T have some kind of diabetes-related complication. That some combination of good care and good support and good luck (yes, I think some of it is just plain luck) will usher me into my later years without a scary complication. Fear is not the best motivator for me - hope is far more effective.  I hope to be healthy for a long time.  And it's hope that keeps me testing my blood sugar every morning, working with my doctor to best-manage diabetes, and monitoring this monster closely. I don't want images of amputation flashing in front of my eyes every time I go to grab my meter.  I'd rather think about blowing out the candles on my 75th birthday party, a strong and healthy old bird.

Fear?  No thanks.  Give me hope any day.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

Sometimes, I watch an online video that makes me so happy I wish it was something I created.  This - Marcel the Shell with Shoes On - is one of those videos.

(Favorite line:  "Toenails from a man.")

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

I keep measuring cups in my purse so that I can measure out my dinners out to be exact.  I keep a small food scale in the glove compartment of my car so I am never guessing how many ounces a certain item might be.  And I have the Calorie King booklet in my pocket at all times, so that I'm never left guessing.  I even sewed pockets into all my clothes, just to bring the booklet around.

(The previous paragraph is filled with lies.  Big, fat ones.)

I wish I was a precision carb counter.  I wish I had the patience for it, always either eating pre-packaged and factory-analyzed foods or spending my time carefully measuring and weighing any home cooked adventures.  But I am not a precision carb counter.  

I'm a precision carb ... guesser.

During the nine months of baby-building, I became pretty good at guesstimating carb content based on the size of the food serving.  You know, like a "deck of cards" is the size of a meat serving, or an oatmeal serving the size of my fist.  (When I was at dLife, the food and nutrition editor did this article on serving size visualizations, which I thought was really good.)  But while pregnant, I tested a LOT and wore the Dexcom every damn day, so there wasn't much of a chance for my blood sugars to dance around due to controllable variables.  (Hormones?  That was a whole different story - they made my numbers nutty.)

But now, with baby out and my level of diabetes management slacking a good amount, I'm losing my attention to those foodie details.  I'm back to eyeballing things without a reference point ("That bathtub of pasta?  That's about 25 grams of carbs.") and doing some seriously wild guessing.

I'm okay with being a guesser.  It fits with my lifestyle (my purse isn't big enough for a scale, thank you very much) and I'm reasonably good at it.  For me, the key to keeping meals from spiking me all over the place is to do the following:

1. Bolus well in advance for meals.  Not the 15 minutes I was told when I first started on Humalog.  I'm talking like 35 minutes before I take a bite.
2. Asking about rogue sauces in meals.  When we're dining out, I always ask if the meat comes with a sauce or if the salad comes drenched in dressing.  I've found that "on the side" helps me keep from devouring hidden carbs.
3. Refresh my visual memory.  I need to remind myself, at least once a month, what "one serving of pasta" looks like.  I need to measure it out at home and actually look at it before I chow on it.  Because without that reminder, portion sizes get all distorted in my head and suddenly I think one "small apple" is akin to this. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (35) | TrackBacks (0)