A guest post from Ms. Siah Sausage.  Strange little critter.

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Today is Kerri's birthday, and she's taking the day off to spend the afternoon with her mom and then go out to celebrate with Chris tonight.

Whatever.

Birthdays.  I don't care about those sorts of things, unless they are my own, in which case I fully expect a carrot cake with cat nip frosting, and my own Snuggie and maybe something I can use to scratch the couch because sometimes it just plain makes my paws tired to spend all that time fixing the couch.  I deserve rewards for those behaviors.  I am, after all, very tolerant of Kerri and her affinity for picking me up all the time and snuggling me to her face.  She still has a face.  See how tolerant I am?

So it's her birthday, and the other cats and I have decided to give her our respective gifts:  

Abby has decided not to shed on the couch today.  This is a big deal because Abby is almost topping out at 18 pounds of fluffiness, so having her refrain from shedding means that Kerri doesn't have to vacuum today.  This is also a big deal.  Kerri hates vacuuming, but when Abby's fur becomes a tumbleweed that rolls across the living room floor, she starts swearing and promising to send us all to Belgium (which I would be fine with because I hear they have nice chocolate and I like chocolate and also Teddy Grahams - they are good), and then she brings out that huge vacuum cleaner that is so LOUD and sends us all scurrying for safety.  So Abby won't shed. 

Happy birthday, Kerri, from Abby.

Prussia promises not to sleep on her sweaters.  Kerri will be very pleased, because Prussia likes to get into bags of sweaters that have just been returned from that dry cleaning place, and then she sleeps on them.  Which, again, makes Kerri swear.  Creatively.   So no Prussia Cat nestled in the pockets of clean sweaters. 

Happy Birthday, Kerri, from Prussia.

And from me.  Her favorite, even though she claims to like me the least.  Today, in honor of Kerri's birthday, I have made a solemn promise to refrain from doing what she hates the most - I won't scurry over to the food bowls and devour as much as I can in one breath, and then go hide under the dining room table and heave my guts out in several different locations.  I won't make her crawl on her hands and knees under the table with that can of rug cleaner and a wet towel, mumbling as she mops up my offerings.  

Today, I won't puke on the floor.

Happy birthday, Kerri, from your favorite Sausage Cat. 

You're welcome.

*   *   *

Thanks, Siah.  For making me feel so ... like this.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (28) | TrackBacks (0)

Dear Oprah and Dr. Oz,

Diabetes is very expensive to manage and to treat the complications of, but what comes at an even higher cost is the damage of statements from a doctor, claiming that diabetes is reversible. I was diagnosed as a child, and my type 1 diabetes is not the result of any controllable factors. However, I have many friends who have type 2 diabetes who can make the same claim.

I can't lie - I had a lot of hope about your episode regarding diabetes.  Even though it was billed as "the silent killer" and even though I knew you'd show the darkest side of diabetes-related complications possible to "sensationalize" this disease, I was holding out because I wanted this episode to be accurate. 

Dr. Oz, you are a doctor, and a mouthpiece for the medical community.  I realize you are a cardiologist, not an endocrinologist, so you can't be expected to know everything about every medical condition, but I'm surprised you were chosen as the expert on diabetes.  I understand that doctors are human, as are their patients, and no one expects you to be an expert on every medical condition.  I actually respect doctors who admit that they can do a lot, but can't do everything.  And since you aren't an endocrinologist, I'm not shocked at your casual mentions of the two types of diabetes, not making clear distinctions between the two.  (Actually, I believe it was Oprah (or her husband, Richie Cunningham) who continued to bring up the "type 1 or type 2" question.) 

I was hoping that you take a clinical approach, instead of one that generalizes diabetes. Type 1 diabetes is a very serious disease and shouldn't be put in that "lose weight and you'll save the healthcare system millions" category. You had an opportunity, and a duty, to educate the public about the different kinds of diabetes, and to help people understand what methods of treatment work best.

I was disheartened to see how this show was handled, editorially.  You two started off by saying that diabetes is an epidemic, one that will eventually bankrupt our healthcare system.  After discussing how insulin and glucose work in the body, you then cut to Laureen.  Laureen is 44 years old, on dialysis waiting for her second kidney transplant, and a double amputee.  You zoom in closely on her tears as they fall, as she laments how she has been dealing with diabetes for most of her life and wishes that she took better care of herself when she was young.  

(Back to the studio:  Oprah asks if Laureen was a type 1 or a type 2 diabetic.  Dr. Oz says she was type 1 diabetic.  "She's type 1.  She's not making enough insulin.  Type 1 is genetic."  I'll admit this is one of the first times I've ever heard type 1 and type 2 even mentioned in the same breath in mainstream television.  And then in the next breath:  "Diabetes is an epidemic.")

Why show a type 1 diabetic with serious complications, and then say that diabetes is the fastest growing disease in the country?  You need to specify that diet and exercise, or lack thereof, did not cause Laureen's type 1 diabetes.  Yet you want people to see the horrible effects of type 1 diabetes on her body and then say that a generalized "diabetes" is an epidemic.  Type 1 is not an epidemic.  Type 2 diabetes is.  And thanks to your mishandling of the facts, ignorance now joins the epidemic status as well.

Do you realize how frustrating it can be to live with diabetes, of any kind?  The testing, the injections, the complications, the daily fear of what may happen while you're driving or - worse - what may happen while you sleep?  The physical impact of diabetes is tremendous, as you both illustrated with your jar of glass shards, representing what an excess of sugar in the blood stream can do to blood vessels.

But do you realize how equally frustrating the stigma of diabetes is?  How we are so often viewed as having "brought this on ourselves" or as not working hard enough to prevent complications?  I've written in my blog countless times about the impact of diabetes and guilt, but you wouldn't understand that. You understand ratings.  You understand getting your name out there and having people click on your website ads and tune into your show.  You understand that showing a woman with missing limbs and streaming tears will make people sit on their couches and watch your show.  What you don't understand is how some of us felt, watching from our homes.  Opinions vary on how your show handled diabetes, but for me, personally, I feel like you just blended the worst of both kinds and then barreled into generic advice about generic diabetes symptoms and "remedies." 

Now please don't get me wrong:  I'm grateful for having more of a spotlight on diabetes.  For all the times I've wanted to see diabetes featured on the Oprah show, I feel somewhat guilty for criticizing how your portrayed the disease.  But it's hard for me to disconnect logic (i.e. not everyone has type 1 diabetes so not everyone will understand what information is correct or incorrect about diabetes) from my body's visceral response.  I know that during many points in your show, I felt so frustrated.  I wanted clarity to be delivered to the parts of society that are  unfamiliar with diabetes.  I wanted to have people watch your show and come away thinking, "Wow.  There's more than one type of diabetes?  It's not all about diet and exercise, but there are people who don't have a choice in this diagnosis?"  Instead, I'm afraid that people will continue to think that diabetes is just diabetes, and that there is no distinction between the causes or the treatments.  They'll think that all diabetes is controllable and treatable and potentially reversible.  That it just requires work, and for the diabetic to not be lazy about taking care of themselves. 

If one dollar of funding towards type 1 diabetes research is put back into a potential donor's pocket because they believe, as a result of your words, that all types of diabetes are the same and that all diabetics simply didn't take the measures to "prevent" their disease, this is your burden.

And for those of us with diabetes, we will have to carry the burden that society doesn't deem us "worth curing" because they think we did this to ourselves.

Sincerely,
Kerri Sparling
Type 1 diabetes for 23 years … and counting

NOTE:  To send your comments to Oprah, click this link.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (132) | TrackBacks (0)

What defines our diabetes community? 

At the Smithsonian, there is an exhibit called "Portraiture Now: Communities."  It's described with the following (edited) language:

"How do we define community today? Through new electronic networking, our connections with family, friends and acquaintances are increasingly widespread. And yet, we are still drawn to the idea of small communities and face-to-face interaction. Each of the three painters selected for “Portraiture Now: Communities” has explored this idea through a series of related portraits of friends, townspeople, or families. ... Seen together, the paintings by these three artists suggest the enduring power of personal communities."

I can't remember how I stumbled upon this exhibit, but the idea of it really moved me.  "Community" used to be defined by who lived in your zip code, or who went to your school district, or just what faces passed you in the hallway at work every day.  Back when I was a little peanut, my community was my family (there are a lot of us), my school friends, and my fellow tap dancers from Miss Jeanne's dance class.

Since second grade, I've always been part of the diabetes community.  Back in those days, there weren't many tell-tale tubings sticking out from underneath someone's t-shirt, and kids didn't test as often or as openly in the classroom.  But when another child in my school district was diagnosed, an instant bond formed between he and I, and between my parents and his.  Even if we hadn't met yet.  I had a sparse but crucial community of other Rhode Islander children with diabetes, and when I attended Clara Barton Camp in the summers, my community of "other kids who got it" expanded by leaps and bounds. 

But I grew up, and in those foggy years between 9th grade and my first job out of college, I was alone.  Alone with diabetes, yet still part of the diabetes community.  No one knew I was there, but just hearing someone at school mention "their cousin who has type 1" or "That lady they were waiting on at the restaurant who freaked out when the diet soda was switched - she said she had diabetes," made me feel like I was instantly connected to these imperfect strangers.  

And then I found you guys, drawn in by a desire to not feel alone anymore and wanting to share, out loud, the emotional burden of diabetes that I carried for a very long time by myself.  A whole community of people who were either living with diabetes themselves, or loving someone who lived with it, and who understood exactly what I meant when I said, "It's just ... ugh, you know?"

What defines our diabetes community?  Is it the common thread of syringes and infusion sets and the pile of test strips we leave in our wake?  Is it the shared fear of complications?  The universal celebration of a lowered A1C?  The muttering of "Lows are The Suck," and hearing, "I know what you mean," in return? 

I thought about what a "Portraiture" of the diabetes community would look like.  I pictured all those photographs so many of us have taken over the last few years, the ones that show a bunch of grinning people with their arms around one another.  It's only if you look really closely that you notice the pumps clipped to pants pockets or calloused fingertips.  

"Through new electronic networking, our connections with family, friends and acquaintances are increasingly widespread. And yet, we are still drawn to the idea of small communities and face-to-face interaction." 

Face-to-face interaction is such a huge part of feeling like a community, but it's not the only thing that makes us one.  Whether you want to be part of the diabetes community or whether you are rebelling against the very thought, the fact remains that it's there for you, and will always be there for you.  There's a certain comfort to knowing you aren't isolated or alone.  There are people who understand.  

The definition of our community is found in the people who are part of it.  Each and every one of us:  the bloggers, the lurkers, the medical professionals who care for us, the parents of kids with diabetes, the kids with diabetes who have grown up to become parents themselves, the lovers, boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, friends of diabetics, the immediate family members and the ones who are slightly removed, the employers, the employees, the strangers who help us get juice when we can't help ourselves, the friends, Romans, and countrymen of the diabetics ARE the diabetes community. 

It's a far-reaching group of people who share more than just a busted pancreas.  

It's a true community of people who understand, despite different backgrounds and preferences and opinions.  We're in this together, and as I'm preparing to bring my daughter into this community as a "child of a person with diabetes," I'm thankful that she can find support as a caregiver in this sea of people who have been instrumental in helping me achieve the strength to bring her into this world.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

(Great song.)

Now that we're back from our trip, it's time to reintroduce myself to the "swing of things."  While we were away, Chris and I were up late, eating fancy food at fancy restaurants (including desserts and carb-fantastic sweet potato french fries and gelato ... things we wouldn't normally eat but we devoured in spades - and in our mouths - all week long during the festival holy run on sentence), going to bed at 3:30 in the morning, battling the frigging hills, and waking up the next day only to do it again.  For nine days running.

It was exhausting. 

But now we are home.  And in the comfort of my own schedule, I can wake up early, eat a breakfast that doesn't include sausage (not the cat), get enough sleep at night, put my feet up as necessary, and get some exercise in.

Oh, the exercise part.  How you plague me.

I used to be awesome at getting to the gym.  Not to toot my own horn - more to toot Chris's, actually - but his dedication to the gym helped me keep my proverbial (and literal) butt in gear.  It was just part of our routine, and it was easy.  And the benefits were tremendous:  good health, pants that fit, and that feeling of "ooh, I'm sort of strongish."

But now?  As the baby belly grows and my sense of balance leaves the building for the next 75 days?  Exercise is hard.  Wicked hard.

Since we've been home, I've been back at the gym with Chris, only the workouts I'm doing now feel completely lazy-ass, compared to the ones I was doing before.  No weights (thank you, retinopathy), no jumping rope (thank you, bouncy belly), and no increased heart rate over 130.  

So I walk.  For like 40 minutes on the treadmill, without an incline and at a speed of only 3.0 miles per hour.  On paper (screen?) that looks wussy, but in reality, it's kicking my behind.  I'm not sure if it's the weight I've put on in the front or the fact that my lungs are squished in there, or maybe just because my whole body is completely different now than it was seven months ago, but just walking on the treadmill is a challenge these days.

I'm going to see how long I can keep exercising.  I've heard that many pregnant women make it to the day before they give birth, and I've also heard that the more active I can remain, the better my recovery will be after having the little baby.  Activity helps keep BSparl healthier, too, which is even more incentive to keep plodding.

Weird thing is, my blood sugars don't drop during exercise anymore.  In fact, they seem to go up a little bit.  Before becoming pregnant, I would disconnect my pump and exercise without insulin, but now I need to leave it attached.  And I sometimes need to bolus during the workout, depending on how the Dexcom is trending.  It's very odd, what my hormones are doing to my blood sugars these days.  I also had to increase part of my wee hours of the morning basal today, after two mornings in a row of waking up at 150 mg/dl.

"Kerri, you're rambling.  You realize that, right?  You're just rambling on about exercise and blood sugars and do you actually have a point with this post?"

Why thank you, Internal Motivational Speaker.  I appreciate you bothering me.  Yes, I'm rambling, but I'm just trying to get all these thoughts out before I lose them.  Which seems to be the case lately.

"Why don't you just tell them that the real reason you're fixated on exercise this week is because when you came home from Sundance, each cat had gained 5 pounds?  Now you have a trio of porkchops racing around the apartment?  Why don't you admit that Siah can't even fit under the couch anymore because she's too darn fat?"

Sigh.  I need to get back into the exercise groove. 

And apparently so do my cats.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

Park City is an old mining town nestled among the Wasatch Range of the Rocky Mountains, and aside from buzzing with Sundance excitement and brimming with film-goers and celebrities, let me just say that the damn place is not flat.  Not even close to flat.  (See also:  built amongst the mountains)  The majority of the "stuff to do" is on Main Street, and I'm pretty sure that street is a 60 degree angle.

BSparl and her mommy (me), in all their frontal weight gain glory, were not amused.

Something about walking up and down (and usually up and down a few more times) that street had me more winded than if I'd tried to run a mile on the treadmill at a 6.0 incline.  I know that the air is thinner in that part of the country, being so freaking high above sea level, and I also know that having a little baby girl growing inside of me is compromising the room for my lungs to expand.  But I had not anticipated how hard it was going to be just to WALK around in Park City.  We'd take the bus from our condo down by the Yarrow Hotel and get dropped off at the city transit center, and then the huffing and puffing would begin.

"I'm ... sorry ... for ... not ... keeping up."  I'd pant with each step as I tried to keep up with Chris.

"It's okay, baby.  We'll go slow.  We're not in any rush."

"Awe ... some.  Hang on while I lean against this lightpole for a minute ... and let my lungs ... do stuff."

(Thing was, we were late for two different dinner appointments because I couldn't catch my breath about 15 minutes into the walk.  I've never felt more awkward, or more yeti-like, than I did trying to plod up Main Street.)

Overall, little BSparl was a well-behaved fetus, doing her job of kicking and sleeping and rolling around in there.  I'm officially sporting a major baby belly, complete with visible baby movements even through my shirts.  And thankfully, my basals didn't need any adjusting while we were away.  I don't know if it was the time change or all the walking around or maybe it was just the grace of the diabetes gods, cutting me some freaking slack for the week, but my numbers ran relatively stable while we were away.  (Save for that f'ing 300 that came up as a result of overtreating two 48 mg/dl's in a row, pissing me off royally and causing me to have to skip dinner one night.)  I changed my infusion sets every three days like clockwork - mainly because I'm now using about 50u of insulin a day and that's the shelflife of one pump cartridge and also because sets left in too long are starting to get infected faster than usual - and I tested about 18 times a day.  In addition to Dexcom'ing. 

I may have left a trail of test strips on that there Main Street.

BSparl is proud of her daddy.  When I was trying to coax her into kicking at times, all it would take is a quick "Hi baby!" from Chris to get her scooting around in there.  And during the five screenings of Buried, she danced in celebration for her father's success.  I believe I may be building a "daddy's little girl" in there, and I think they're respectively smitten with one another. 

Traveling at almost seven months pregnant was definitely a challenge, and I'm not sure I would have done it, were it not such a big freaking deal to go to Sundance.  Heparin before the plane ride was one thing (that shit stings going in, FYI), and not being able to lift my suitcase wasn't exactly heartbreaking, but moving around was a little awkward.  And having to pee every 30 minutes was also cumbersome.  (I know where EVERY bathroom is in Park City.  Thank you, BSparl, for making my bladder your pillow all week long.) 

But I wouldn't have missed this for the world.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

(I've bombarded you guys with info on Buried and kept a running update on Facebook and Twitter, so I promise this will be the last post about Sundance. I'll go back to diabetes crap in a few minutes.  Or at least I'll blend them.)

We're back from Park City, and the whole Sundance experience was completely and utterly surreal.  I won't go on about the reviews that have come out about the film (i.e. New York Times, LA Times, Variety, Moveline, Slashfilm, Film School Rejects), and I have no plans to talk extensively about the Lionsgate purchase (holy crap).  But we were at the premiere of Buried at the Library Theater on Saturday, January 24th, and it was incredible.

After a private pre-screening dinner (where there was a special "Buried" menu on tap - very cool), we headed off to the theater for the actual screening.  The film premiered at midnight, and it was something else.  Chris's (in my humble, wife-ish opinion) fantastic script was brought to life by Rodrigo's immense directorial talent, and Ryan's performance was emotional and real.  I don't want to ruin the story for anyone who is planning to see the movie (you are ALL planning to see the movie, right?), so suffice to say that the film was incredible.  I applauded wildly, and BSparl did the same from underneath my belly button.  (She's a big fan of her daddy's movie.  Man, that is bizarre to write.  Two and a half more months!  /diatribe)

So many friends and family members came out for the festival (including the majority of Chris's extended family and also my father), so the house was packed.  Chris, director Rodrigo Cortes, and star of the film, Ryan Reynolds were all in attendance, adding some extra excitement to the room.  This was the first time that anyone outside of the production team was seeing the film, so the air was electric.  And since this was our first look at the finished film, we could hardly sit still.  I found myself particularly fidgety during certain moments of the movie - you'll know when you see it.

Writer Chris Sparling, director Rodrigo Cortes, and actor Ryan Reynolds

And it was over.  Ninety four breathless minutes later.  The audience sat back from the edges of their seats - literally - and then there was a Q&A with Ryan, Rodrigo, and Chris, where the audience peppered the trio with questions about the film. (Some video coming soon, once we figure out which suitcase the Flip ended up in.)

Buried screened a total of five times at the festival, and the responses from viewers has been overwhelmingly positive.  I mean, these three guys pulled it off.  A movie, taking place entirely in a coffin with one actor, was interesting.  For over an hour and a half.  That's pretty damn impressive.  ... but I'm not doing a movie review here.  Obviously my bias is impossible to contain. ("Most impressive script EVER!"  "Cutest writer of all TIME!!"  "Framing the movie poster and debating putting it in the baby's NURSERY!") 

I am so proud, as his wife, to have been there to support Chris as he made this huge career leap forward.  But I was proud before, when there wasn't a Sundance movie to talk about or a movie premiere to attend.  He's my best friend, and I'm so, so happy for him.

Now I need to upload a pile of photos and make sense of the suitcases that still need unpacking.  And find out why Siah is curled up around the toaster, purring maniacally.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

I am SO itching to write my updates from Sundance, including posting photos and really describing how unreal this has been for my husband, but Internet access is pretty crap here, and I've had a lot of trouble keeping up with the online world.  Monday, I'm all over it. :)

What did dawn on me is how much has changed in the last 4 1/2 years, since I started this blog.  Back then, I had a different last name, lived in my own little apartment in South County, RI, and worked at a job that made my skin crawl.  I didn't know another soul who had diabetes, nevermind having access to hundreds of other people with diabetes who really "get it," you know? 

It's str ange, chronicling life with diabetes and seeing how much has changed in the last few years. So much has happened, from moving to Connecticut and then planning a wedding and then marrying Chris, and then all the stuff with our respective careers and now little Ms. BSparl?  Some really tough times, some really triumphant times, and all the gray (like Siah) parts in between, many shared with you guys. 

And it started with one crappy little post back in May 2005, when I was just learning what the hell a blog ("blaaaaaaaaahgh") was, and how it could help me heal, emotionally, in the ways I didn't realize I was a little broken.

*   *   *

I could go through the hassle of establishing a non de plume, but I wasn't thinking when I set this up and I signed in with my real name. Note to Potential Stalkers: Please don't.

The purpose of this is to make contact with other diabetics. It's one of those diseases (or maybe they're all this way, I'm not sure) where even if you have the mechanics of it completely mastered, the psychological battle is just as daunting. Every time I test my bloodsugar, the result stirs me up emotionally. If I'm high, I feel guilty. Or surprised. Or angry. If I'm low, I feel anxious. And slightly panicky. Or confused. A normal reading level might make me feel cocky. Or successful. But they all make me feel something. And it's not just physiological. There is so much involved in the daily maintenance of diabetes that a support network isn't just nice, it's necessary.

Reach out. Ask questions. Answer the litany I'm sure to ask. Network network network. And when that doesn't work, just repeat repeat repeat.

*   *   *

Funny how everything has changed, but absolutely nothing's changed.  (Thanks for the line, Eddie Vedder.) How long have you been blogging, and what made you decide to take the leap into the online unknown?

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

I love, love, love the search terms that bring people to my blog. As I've mentioned before, most of the terms are related to diabetes, but there are some real ringers that come through ... and those are the ones I want to share today. 

first man to describe type one diabetes - I thought, at first, that this said "first man to walk on the moon with diabetes."  It doesn't actually say that.  It doesn't say anything close to that.  The end.

sexy infusion set placement - What's sexier than an insulin pump infusion set?  Not much, actually.  No matter where you stick it, it's proof that you're aiming for good control.  Rawr.

is martini good for diabetics - Yes.  So is proper verb/noun agreement.  Next question?

baked and fried diabetes brains - I can't even respond to this. 

nothing says lovin' like a bun in the oven - And nothin' says lovin' like leavin' off the apostrophe.  '

no one understands how much I love Yanni - I do, dear friend.  Testing 1 ... 2 ... Yanni?

should I marry a man with type 1 diabetes - Yes.  It would be sweet.  (PUNS!  Love them.)

up to my ears in cats - Don't I know it, sister.

... I'm sorry.  I can't get past the baked and fried diabetes brains ones.  I'm going to have to talk to Google and find out what the hell sent that search term here. In the meantime, what's the weirdest search term to lead to your blog?

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

I wanted to do my part to help get the word out about the DiabetesSisters weekend that's taking place this coming May 22nd and 23rd in Raleigh, North Carolina.  Here are the details:

I love diabetes conferences, and in particular, ones that recognize the different needs of different segments of the diabetes populations.  Women with diabetes come head-to-head with some very unique diabetes-related issues, from periods to pregnancy to emotional hurdles, and having a weekend just for "us" sounds awesome.

I wish this was an event I was able to attend, but I'll hopefully be spending the first few weeks of May adjusting to life with my daughter (!).  If you are going to be in the NC area for that weekend, check out the DiabetesSisters Weekend for Women Conference! 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

I've had a lot of trouble controlling my late second trimester blood sugars, as I've written about all over the place in the last few weeks.  But it's true!  While the first trimester was crammed with low blood sugars, this second bit has been plagued with 200's ... and some of them fasting.  (I hate the idea of waking up high.  Makes me feel like the day gets off to a miserable start.)

So how on Earth did my A1C go down again this month?  I'm confused!  

Last week, I called Joslin to get the results of my most recent bloodwork, and when the receptionist answered, I was braced for the worst.

"Hey, this is Kerri Sparling.  I was calling to see if my A1C result was back yet."

"Let me check," the receptionist B said.  

I couldn't keep my mouth shut because I was just certain that it had gone up.  "I'm pretty sure it's going to suck a little bit."

B laughed at me.  "What?  Well let's just see then."  I heard her clicking on things and shuffling papers.  "Okay, Kerri.  Well it hasn't gone up.  You're at 6.0%."

"What?  I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but are you seriously looking at my chart?  I've had some really rotten blood sugars this past month.  But it's lower now?  How the heck did that happen?"

"I don't know.  Maybe you're getting those highs down faster than you think."

"I'm shocked.  But I'll take it.  Whatever's best for the baby girl, right?"

We hung up the phone, but I didn't feel particularly proud.  Believe me, I'm not complaining at all about an A1C of 6.0%.  Not even close to complaining.  But I know that I've been doubting the accuracy of the A1C for a while now (wrote about it a few months ago, when I was up in the 7's and distressed about those results) and now, after getting the lowest result in my entire history with diabetes, I'm not sure how I got there.  A few weeks ago, I understood why my A1C was lower because my overall blood sugars were lower.  I wasn't over 180 mg/dl for weeks on end.  Now?  I've seen a pile of highs, yet my A1C is at the tail end of six.  I'm happy with the number itself, but not sure it's completely accurate.

It's weird, what being pregnant has done to my mentality.  Before BSparl was thrashing away in there, I wanted an A1C of 6.0% so badly that I was willing to do anything for it.  Now?  I'm sitting pretty with an A1C of 6.0% and wishing that it was definitively the result of steadier numbers.  I want what's best for this kid, and I'm hoping that this number is indicative of a safe little environment for my daughter to flourish.

Because God only knows how I'll manage to screw her up once she's on the outside.  ;)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)