I woke up high this morning, thanks to a late-night snack of quinoa that didn't get into my system fully until well after I'd gone to bed.  Pre-bedtime test was 94 mg/dl, but I woke up at 7:30 am with a full bladder, sweaters on the ol' teeth, a backache, small ketones, and a blood sugar of 298 mg/dl.  I cranked in a correction bolus and went about getting ready for work.

I don't usually fall fast after highs.  It takes me about two hours to really settle back into a steadier range, and sometimes longer to even start the blood sugar tumble.  So I showered, reconnected the pump, got dressed in a hurry, and shuffled my almost-always-late ass out the door.   Mind you, only 38 minutes had passed from the time I bolused.

Got to work, turned on my computer, and started picking through my work emails.  But I had that feeling of foggy distraction - the sound of a coworker tapping her fingers against the keys were resonating in my brain too loudly.  And I clicked on "new" about three times before realizing that I was trying to "reply" to an email instead.  Brain was malfunctioning.  So I tested, knowing something was up.

Or down, since the result was 53 mg/dl and falling fast.  

I reached into my small, compact work bag (lie: the bag is enormous and I'll end up deformed from carrying around so much unnecessary crap) and pulled out a bottle of juice I'd had stashed for a few weeks.  It was a bottle I used at the gym once before and just refilled for an emergency.  I twisted off the cap and heard a distinct hiss, like I woke up an angry grape juice rattle snake.

Juice doesn't normally hiss, does it? 

I gave the contents a quick sniff and realized that the grape juice had fermented and was now spoiled and closer to "wine" than "reaction treater."  Thankfully, I had a can of juice in the fridge at work, so a quick pull helped elevate my blood sugar.

Kerri, take note (from yourself in third person):  Juice becomes wine when you have it go from hot to cold a million times.  No juice when you're low becomes whine.  Though the pun is delightful, stick with glucose tabs, okay?  They're less apt to spoil.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

There's a lot of buzz in the blogosphere today about insurance denials and appeals, starting with an article in the Wall Street Journal about "Pushing Back When Insurers Deny Coverage For Treatment."  Scott Strumello brought this article to my attention this morning via his comprehensive blog post about it, and Bernard sent me there again with his perspective.  And after reading everyone's take, in addition to having experienced three denials for CGM coverage from my insurance company (Oxford Health), I realize that I have gone at this problem the wrong way.

Insurance companies don't care about my future baby.  They don't care about my A1c.  Unfortunately, insurance companies are watching dollars and cents, not good sense.  A passionate letter from a patient doesn't even come close to moving an insurance company to provide coverage or overturn an appeal.  They seem to respond to "the facts" only, and I should have attacked them with facts to begin with.  Instead, I took the personal approach, which left me denied three times.  And it's partially my fault because I expect them to care, even when I know they won't.  My approach was arrogant, thinking they'd respond to actual emotion.

But this time?  No emotion at all.  This appeal was just the facts, ma'am.

I sent the Connecticut Department of Insurance a packet of information this morning, in hopes of having my Dexcom CGM system denial overturned.   I included the following:

• Request for External Appeal form (my insurance information, healthcare provider information, detailed description of disagreement with healthcare plan)
• The denial letter from Oxford Health Plans, stating that their decision is final
  
• Proof that the service in question is a covered benefit (this was in the form of my insurance policy benefit handbook)
• Executed medical release form
• Photocopy of my insurance card
• Documentation supporting my appeal, including a letter from me, my endocrinologist, and Dexcom
• Oh, and a check for $25.  They specify that this is non-refundable. 
  

Under the guidance of the Region Managed Care Director at Dexcom, the supporting documentation I included was very factual and devoid of almost any emotion.  My personal letter, which was written with the help of the Dexcom rep and is so stoic and so dry that it doesn't even sound close to anything I would say is supposedly an example of what "will work."  The letter from my endocrinologist cited my elevated A1c, the ADA A1c standard for pregnancy, the Factor V issue, 22 years of IDDM, and various complications I've experienced (including the cotton wool spot, high blood pressure, etc).

Dexcom also provided a packet, which included the recent NEJM study results and other studies supporting the use of CGM technology to better control diabetes.  The letter from my Dexcom rep included a demonstration of the proven benefits of CGM technology on health outcomes, and also outlined the appeal-denied-appeal-denied cycle that I've been in for the last few months.

So it's in the FedEx box now and waiting to be sent off to the Connecticut Department of Insurance.  Each item is tabbed and in the order requested by the appeal form.  It's on time, comprehensive, and fact-filled.  I hope this appeal gets my CGM approved.

The only frustrating part of this process was that I couldn't really lash out.  I couldn't tell these insurance companies what I was really thinking, which was along the lines of "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?  CAN'T YOU SEE THAT THIS TECHNOLOGY WORKS AND I WANT A HEALTHY PREGNANCY AND WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME I'M NOT APPROVED?!!"  (Ahem.  Sorry.)  It's infuriating to play by their rules, but I'll do whatever it takes to obtain approval.  It makes me absolutely crazy that this technology exists and it has worked for me and it's still not covered.  Don't insurance companies want people to remain healthy?  Isn't there a cost-benefit to them for acting proactively instead of reactively? What is wrong with this healthcare system?!

I'll wait patiently.  I'll hope that this fact-driven approach gets me somewhere.  And I'm very thankful for the assistance and support I've received from Dexcom, dLife, and my friends and family.

But I had to get my digs in somewhere - the memo line of the check is "ridiculous fee for appeal."  Jerkface insurance company.  They're messing with the wrong girl.

(I hope.) 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (0)

I cooked last night.  (Contain your shock, please.)  I made chicken and vegetable soup, whipped up some delicious sugar-free pudding, and baked a chocolate cake for my co-worker's birthday.  Nothing caught on fire, nothing turned to sawdust, and consuming aforementioned tasties did not kill anyone.

However, the cake baking was a little bit of a thorn in my side, because I was soooo tempted to lick the mixer beaters (no, not while they were spinning) and to stick my finger in that thick, chocolate frosting.   

But HA!  I did not succumb to temptation!  I baked that cake, frosted it, and put it in the fridge, all without even a taste.  HA HA!!!  Take that, diabetes! 

After the cake was all done, I sat down on the floor with my laptop to go through my emails.  But the screen was too bright.  The colors were all ... off.  And my hearing was fading in and out, like someone was shaking a blanket out to spread over the bed.  My head was in a complete fog, and Abby was weaving between my elbows, meowing frantically.

So I tested.  

And after all that baking, after avoiding that delicious treat and trying to "stick to the plan" and "be a good little diabetic," I saw "35 mg/dl" winking back at me from my meter.  Eight gulps of juice later, I was laying on the living room floor, telling Chris, "I didn't feel that one coming at all," and "If I lay still enough, I sort of feel like I'm on a record player, spinning."

Damn you, irony!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

"I'll just stand here and keep you company."  He crossed his arms over his chest and kept his eyes on the red bowl I was stirring.

"Chris, you aren't keeping me company.  You're lurking."  The butter and the sugar were starting to mix up in the bowl, giving off that sweet aroma of cookies-to-be.

He smiled.  

"I love cookie dough!"

I'm not much of a cook, but I can definitely bake.  Flourless chocolate cake.  Banana bread that's made with extra bananas so it's all moist and decadent.  I can make chocolate crinkle cookies and Hershey kiss cookies, chocolate chip with oatmeal, peanut butter cookies ... you name it.  And last night, at the begging of my husband, I made chocolate chip cookies with extra chocolate chips.

It's almost Murphy's Law, my cooking talents unable to be used for "good."  I can't cook up a turkey dinner, or make a delicious dinner, but I can create the most sinful desserts without effort.  And the irony of standing there with my insulin pump clipped to my hip as I mixed up a bowl of brown sugar, chocolate chips, white flour, and butter was enough to make me laugh.

I've become decent with the willpower bit, able to say "no thanks" to indulgences if I have my head on straight, but sometimes I completely buckle and make stupid decisions.  I caved to the temptation of cookies last night.  They were fresh from the oven and sitting on the cooling rack, making the whole house smell ... simply: awesome. 

And Chris and I settled in to watch Vantage Point (mini-review: decent enough of a movie, but I could have done with the rewind device every fifteen minutes or so), I grabbed three cookies for Chris.  And then I grabbed three for myself.  My willpower went pfffft.  And the cookies tasted delicious.

Indulgences, for me, make me fear the highs.  I'm not as concerned with the calories or the effects on my weight (maybe I should be), but I try and ward off any post-indulgence highs anyway that I can.  Usually, I bolus aggressively, and sometimes hit the mark perfectly.  Other times I end up chasing a low, making the indulgence go from "reasonable" to downright gluttonous.   Last night I managed to do both.  Those three (delicious) cookies sent me up to 204 mg/dl, then I hit 54 mg/dl about an hour later.  

But was it worth it?  

I hadn't had cookies fresh from the oven in years.  Can't even remember the last time.  And these cookies were moist, hot, freshly baked, delicious, just the right amount of chocolate chips, and delicious.  So yeah, I'd say that little blip in my willpower radar was okay.  One cookie won't kill me.  Neither will three.

But Chris, eating spoonful after spoonful of raw cookie dough?  I think that may be more of a problem.  ;) 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

I am pretty crap with site rotations.  This is a fact, evidenced by the same pad of callous on my fingertips from testing and the smudge of dots on my thighs from infusion sets.  Back when I was taking injections, I favored my arms for a few years, then my stomach, then my legs, building up layers of scartissue and absorption issues with every prick.

I know site rotation is important, but it's never been my strong point.  Until I'm forced to do it.  Change is something I'm reluctant to make sometimes, especially when it comes to managing pain.  I have to be honest - most of the time I prefer using the same site locations because they sting less.  I test on the tips of my fingers because those nerves aren't as responsive and the lancet doesn't sting, for the most part.  Same for my thighs - the infusion sets don't sting as much when they are nested in an already-broken in area.  

But those wild highs forced me to change my stubborn ways.  (Yes, wicked stubborn.  Ask Chris.  Or my mom.  Or ... anyone, I guess.)  And now, after over two weeks of using expanded body real estate, my numbers are faring a bit better.  I'm seeing much better absorption using lower back sites and even though the infusion sets sting like hell for a few minutes after going in, my postprandials are more in range.  I feel like a bit of a stooge for being so stubborn and letting a little sting or a smidge of fear keep me from taking control of this crap. 

Ruts - I get in them.  I'll do the same thing, every day, expecting something to change.  And I get all moody when it doesn't.  I frustrate myself because I let complacency or comfort or sometimes fear keep me from making even the tiniest of changes.  I'm now accustomed to having my infusion set on my lower back and I feel comfortable using it.  And my body seems to be enjoying the change, too, because my thighs are starting to heal up and the speckled red dots of old sets are disappearing (helped along by some high octane moisturizers, exfoliation, and some good old fashioned neosporin). 

It's not all awesome, though.  With this new site location on my lower back, the tubing is a bit more exposed and I've found myself forgetting to tuck it back into the waist of my skirt.  It's also less-than-cozy on the first site night, because I sleep on my back and I can feel the infusion set.  But these discomforts are worth it when I'm seeing my blood sugar at 147 mg/dl an hour and a half after lunch.  I'll freaking take that. 

Stubborn Kerri ... she needs to shake things up now and again!  (Only in first person, not in third person.  Third person is not as effective.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

(Editor's note:  Sometimes I like the title of a post so much it makes me smirky.  Man, I love a good pun.) 

Today's post is from my friend Elizabeth Arnold.   Elizabeth is the bestselling author of two novels, with a third due out next summer.  She’s been diabetic for over thirty years, and is the "proud, doting owner of two cats, a husband and an OmniPod, all of whom she considers her best friend forever."  I've had the pleasure of chatting with Elizabeth a few times and she's sharp, funny, and definitely on the level.  She offered to write a guest post for SUM, and I'm honored to have her contribution!

*   *   * 

I woke up the other morning, and my sugar was 287.  And my first thought?  Well my first thought was a word that can’t be printed on a “family” blog, but my second thought?  That I’m an idiot.  I’d eaten corn on the cob the night before (sweet New Jersey corn which has approximately a bazillion carbs), and I could only guess at the correct bolus as one cannot use Calorie King for this corn; it’s THAT sweet.  And I must’ve come up about 20 carbs short.  I know I shouldn’t really eat this corn because I rarely get it right, but you know, it is truly one of the world’s greatest foods.  I do happy dances in July when I see the cornstalks rising on local farms, and when the ears start to grow I fall on my knees in rapture, so giving it up is Just Not An Option.  So I eat and inevitably my sugar’s high, and then of course I beat myself up.   

I also despise myself for those nights my husband’s had to give me glucagon, knowing how freaked out it makes him to see me unresponsive.  (Although for some reason I never feel guilty when I catch a low myself, just think, Yay!  I get to pig out! eat 15 grams, test again and if necessary eat another 15 grams!)

But you’ve all been there, haven’t you?  You test and your number’s not where you want it to be, so you start blaming yourself for not being perfect.  I’d assume it’s twice as bad if you’re the parent of a diabetic, and–since you’re not superhuman–can’t keep your child in perfect control.  And even worse for many type 2’s who probably blame themselves for the disease itself.  The problems we face aren’t the fault of the diabetes, they’re because we’re just not working hard enough.

It can be the same with complications.  I felt guilty about my retinopathy, even though my A1C was in the high 5’s at the time I was diagnosed with it.  I blamed the teenage-Elizabeth for not being more careful, all the afternoons (and yeah, there were a lot of them) when I’d gone out with friends and not taken a shot to cover pizza or fries, NEVER testing in public because, when you’re 14 years old, exposing your blood to the world seems excruciatingly embarrassing.  Even when I was five or six, before the days of blood testing, whenever my urine tests read 4+ I’d be ashamed, and sometimes fudge the numbers so my parents wouldn’t see.

Does this make sense?  Well of course logically, it doesn’t.  We feel guilty because we do have so much control over this disease, but we all know diabetes can be a stubborn and temperamental (insert curse word of choice), trying to prove it’s stronger than all the time and energy we put into controlling it.  There are site issues and infections and stress and hormones, and just days our bodies decide to go wacky for no conceivable reason.

So what’s the answer?  Who knows?  I think it’s our tendency to want to place blame on things we're not happy about, and who can we blame for this other than ourselves?  I guess you could look at diabetes as a separate entity, pin a photo of a broken pancreas on the wall and throw darts at it, or something.  But that doesn’t work for me–I’ve been diabetic for virtually all my life, so it’s an integral part of who I am, which means hating it would be like hating my own right arm.

There probably is no real answer, except to remind yourself that you’re human, and humanness + diabetes = inevitable fallibility.  So I’ve been telling myself that I’m going to just relax when I feel like beating myself (or my meter) upside the head.  If my sugar’s high, I’ll make myself a cup of tea (or rather, take a correction dose, test for ketones and THEN make the tea.)  Put up my feet and go easy on myself until I feel okay.  The “bad” sugars aren’t bad, they’re just information I can use to make things better, and why should I feel ashamed of information?  Ashamed if I don’t test to get that information, yes, but not if I don’t like the results of that test.

So…here we go.  The truth is my sugar wasn’t 287 on the after-corn morning, it was actually 302.  (Eek!  That sounds so much worse, doesn’t it?  Even though it’s only 15 points higher?  Even writing it down was kinda painful.)  But I’m going to remind myself it wasn’t really my fault, just a mistake, and that making mistakes once in awhile is no big deal.

And dammit, I don’t care, I’m having corn again tonight.

*   *   * 

For more from Elizabeth Arnold, including information about her writing, visit her website at www.ElizabethJoyArnold.com. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

Low blood sugars are not fun.  Over the past ten weeks or so, I hadn't experienced many lows, but I've hit more than my fair share of highs.  (And not normal highs - instead, those warm, feverish highs that made my eyes ache and suits my teeth up in sweaters.)  But the lows seemed to have returned a bit, in part to a tendency to aggressively correct highs and the lack of carbs in my house this week. 

Like this morning:  I woke up and sat on the side of the bed for a full five minutes before getting up to test. I knew I was low, but it's like I'm unable to let myself drink the juice before testing.  Instinct?  Impulse? The room was thick with a cottony fog and my head was spinning, but I couldn't function clearly enough to grab the bottle of juice from the bedside table.  I grabbed my meter, waited patiently for the 52 mg/dl to pop up on the screen, and only then would I let my hands wander towards the grape juice bottle. 

It's frustrating.  My lows over the years have become progressively stickier, taking longer to come up and with symptoms that linger far beyond their textbook-issued 15 minute window.  This week's vlog entry is about lows and their irritating ways.  (And I tried my best to speak  more slowly, but I think I'm somehow related to the Micro Machines guy.  I just talk too damn fast.) 

Click on the logo to visit my YouTube channel, don't laugh at my crappy flashcards, and let me know what kind of vlog topics you want to see covered in the future! 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

Control is tough to come by these days - and it seems like the more I fret about it, the more tangled my numbers become.  I'm trying a more relaxed approach (yes, I am as high-strung as I seem, why do you ask?!) to diabetes management.  Like this past weekend:  instead of shlepping myself home to RI and spending more time in the car than with friends and family, I decided to stay home in CT and relax.  I watched movies.  I worked on some writing I was trying to finish.  I made iced tea and cleaned my house.  (And I also tried on my wedding dress for no reason, but that's neither here nor there.)

Overall, I tried to freaking relax.  And it helped - my numbers didn't act out.  Apparently the absence of cortisol helps blood sugar stability - who knew? 

In addition to decompressing a bit, I also tried out a few new site locations last week.  I'm wondering if my thighs are a bit overused and if absorption is suffering as a result of the scartissue.  To give my legs a rest, I made good use of an arm site and a back site.

The arm site I've done before.  I can insert it myself (on my left arm, since I'm right-handed), it is pretty pain-free, and is away from my abdomen, which I prefer.  The mechanics of an arm site are a bit tricky, though.  If I aim the tubing towards my shoulder (see the photo), the tube goes up my shoulder, through the sleeve of my shirt, down the side of my body and then comes to a rest at my waist, where the pump is clipped.  It's a little complicated, because the tubing sometimes pinches where it's snaked underneath the side of my bra and it tickles a smidge, too.  Also, I almost ripped the site off a few times when putting on/taking off a sports bra, but overall, I just need to remember where the hell the site is and I don't screw it up.

Using my lower back as a site for an infusion set scared the crap out of me, but I knew it was possible because I saw Sara stick her CGM trial sensor there at the CWD conference.  It just made me feel squeamish thinking about the needle being inserted into my back ... actually, just writing that is making me feel all eeeew.  But, after psyching myself up and reminding myself that if it hurt, I could just rip it right out, I used the ol' Quick-Serter to stick a set into my lower back, towards the side.

This site didn't sting much going in (totally unused real estate here), but the first bolus was a bitch and a half.  It stung like crazy!  Thankfully, it only took a few boluses to really get the site settled in and by the end of the first day, I didn't feel it at all.  I've worn it to the gym, to the movies, and in clothing with varying waist bands with no problem.  The only difference between this and wearing it on my thigh is that it's higher and the tubing doesn't naturally tuck down my leg, so snagged tubing is a risk.  Overall, I'm digging it, and grateful for the option.

New real estate options for my pump?  Check. Chillin' out, maxing, relaxing all cool?  (Name that sitcom!)  Check.  Have any of you guys tried these sites?  Any options for new places? 

And how was your weekend?  :)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 03:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

Dear Liana Masone, Grievance Associate at Oxford Health,

What can I do to help you understand why my request for a continuous glucose monitor should be approved?   I've received your third and final letter, and according to your team:

"We have thoroughly considered all of the available information submitted in support of your appeal.  Based upon review of that information and the terms of your plan, a medical director with a specialty in General Surgery, continues to uphold the denial of coverage for the Dexcom sensors.  This type of continuous glucose monitoring has not been shown to provide superior health outcomes.  Therefore, an Oxford medical diretor has determined that coverage for the Dexcom sensors is Not Medically Necessary, as the term is defined in your Certificate of Coverage."

You know what's great?  The part of your website that talks about the 2008 Healthy Bonus Offers, claiming the following:  "We recognize there are ways we can help members reduce out-of-pocket health are costs.  We believe in the power of prevention: that is  by taking a little extra time to eat better, exercise and reduce stress, individuals can do a better job of staying on the path of wellness."

Is that so?  By seeking approval for the Dexcom continuous glucose monitoring device, I am trying to stop as many of the fluctuations in my blood sugar control as I can.  I am also trying to safeguard my body against hypoglycemic unawareness, because my body does not recognize the symptoms of low blood sugar with any reliability.  I am also preparing for pregnancy and making these CGM efforts for my baby and my husband.  Proactive approach, no?  You would do well to be more proactive in preventing complications, instead of being reactive and paying for them later.

According to the paperwork you sent me, I have been advised that I have exhausted my internal appeals and may now file an external appeal for CGM coverage.  You have also told me that I need to enclose a check in the amount of $25.00 made out to the Treasurer, State of Connecticut.  This check is the first item on your appeal application checklist, showing me how committed you are to making this appeal process as difficult as possible.  

I have been a type 1 diabetic for almost 22 years.  The paramedics have visited my home due to morning hypoglycemia.  My A1c is currently above 7.5% and not within the range for pre-conception, as advised by my endocrinologist at Joslin.  I do not want to experience diabetes-related complications, and I am trying to stay as healthy as I can. I will continue to fight for approval of a CGM.

In the next week, your team will receive a letter from my endocrinologist, stating her recommendation for CGM coverage.  You will also receive my current blood work results, a copy of my certificate of coverage, and yes, my check for $25.00.

I look forward to your response.  

Best,

Kerri Morrone Sparling

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

About two months ago, I woke up at around 3 am after a terrible nightmare.  The dream was graphic and felt so real that it took me several seconds to realize it didn't actually happen.  (I dreamt that I had run over my own cat in the driveway and was holding its twisted and bleeding body.  Horrendous dream, and I woke up crying.) 

Once I was fully awake, I tested my blood sugar and saw "291 mg/dl" on the screen.  Holy middle-of-the-night  high.  I dialed in a correction bolus and went back to sleep.  I didn't think anything of the nightmare correlation until last night.

I dreamt that my husband was murdered by the guy who lived next door to me growing up.  It was a horrible dream!!!  I heard the gunshot in my mind, felt the heat of panic, and the tears on my face were hot and real.  I woke up with a start and reached for Chris, who was safe and asleep next to me. 

The clock read 4 am. 

The meter read 354 mg/dl. 

(The reason for this high was unknown, but it was a gross, sweaters on the teeth kind of high that made me want to pee and brush my teeth at the same damn time.)

I don't usually have nightmares, and I find it odd that the nightmares I remember most clearly corrrelate very neatly with a blood sugar issue.  Normally, my dreams slip away from me once I've been awake for a few minutes, and I rarely remember the entirety of them.  But this nightmare, I can still taste.  It was terrifyingly clear.   

I have heard about low blood sugars causing nighmares, but has anyone heard of highs doing the same thing?

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (2)

We drive.  Friday night, after taking in the new Batman movie, we hopped in the car late at night and drove home to RI.  (Late-night driving means less sleep but also means less traffic, and we'll take the latter, thanks.)  Saturday morning had me at the beach with a few of my college roommates, then dinner out with family on Saturday night, then breakfast with Batman (my friend, not Christian Bale), then a cookout at my mother's house on Sunday afternoon.

It sounds like a lot of driving because it IS a lot.  Chris and I try to connect with as many of our friends and family as possible when we come home on the weekends because we don't have the opportunity to see them for several weeks on end.  Connecticut, though filled with career opportunities for us both, doesn't have much in the way of family.  And lately, family and friends are something I've been missing tremendously.

I've hit a very rough patch, diabetes-management wise.  My A1c came back the highest it's been in five and a half years, and I didn't take the increase with any grace at all.  Even though I can attribute the rise to wedding chaos and honeymoon laziness, I still felt so disappointed.  In addition to an elevated A1c, I've also been diagnosed with a disorder called Factor V Leiden, which can cause blood clots and has forced me to change some of my routine (read: birth control pills are now a no-no).  Despite the fact that this disorder is unlikely to cause problems, it's still a new blip on my health radar and contributed to my feeling of "eh" last week.  I was feeling overwhelmed with health concerns, frustrated with insurance issues for the Dexcom, and pretty damn grumpy.  Crumbs Morrone ... er, Sparling.  Crumbs Sparling.

I needed some time with friends and family this weekend, to help take the edge off a roughish week.  And it worked.  Yesterday afternoon, I was hanging out in my mother's yard, taking pictures of her garden.  My mom is very whimsical and a little silly, and her yard is crammed with flowers and these strange little garden critters that she finds from the Christmas Tree Shop:  small ceramic ducks, little turtles, and garden gnomes.  It sounds like her lawn is littered with trash, but these creatures aren't just flung about haphazardly.  They're carefully placed, hidden between hydrangea bushes and underneath rhododendrons.  You have to look for them to find them.

 

I came across a big, fat, ceramic bluebird yesterday.  It was in her front lawn and guarding an azalea bush.  

"Bluebird of happiness!"  My mother came by, checking out what I was photographing.

"I see that."

"Well?  Doesn't it make you happy?"

I thought for a minute.  I felt revitalized after being socially reconnected with my friend and family.  I felt ready to make the medical changes necessary to accommodate the new condition and to take change of my diabetes management once more.  I felt loved.  Supported.  Happy.

"It does, Mom.  That fat bird totally makes me happy."  She grinned at me. 

Onward, right?  All I can do is get over the bad news and move forward towards something better.  Good health is one day at a time.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (22) | TrackBacks (0)

Antisocial little droplet
Hiding in my fingertip.
I called for you - you did not answer!
Forcing me to now reprick.

I lanced again, into the tissue,
Calloused hard from all these thuds,
I squeezed my finger with the purpose
Of procuring bright red blood.

But no!  My body stayed so stubborn,
Not giving me a proper sample.
"I'll change the lancet - then I'll finally
Get results."  My smile was ample.

Knowing that it wasn't time
To change the clocks or check detectors,
I still swapped out my old lancet
For a fresh, sharp blood collector.

I pressed the button, heard the shunk
And felt the sting of proper lancing,
Squeezed my finger, saw the blood
And did a jig of happy dancing.

I suggest, my Faithful Readers
That you heed my sage advice.
Don't forget to change the lancet -
Prick your finger once, not twice!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 03:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

The paperwork has been on my desk, but I kept staring at it for a long time.  And by "long time," I mean three full months.  I kept finding reasons to put it off - my wedding was coming, I was busy at work, my shirt sleeves were too long - but the real reason was because I knew the number would be kind of crap.  A1Cs are never fun, and they serve as a sort of diabetes report card.  With my stress levels being a little out of control during the wedding ramp-up, my numbers followed suit.  And I didn't want to know what my A1C was, out of fear and stubbornness. 

But on Tuesday, I turned my brain off for a bit.  I grabbed the paperwork, left my office, and drove directly to the blood work lab.  I refused to psyche myself out (and I tried really hard not to think about the pinchy needle easing into that tender part of my arm ... not a fan). 

"Hi, I'm Kerri.  I need to have an A1C drawn."

"Okay, write your name on the sheet here and have a seat."  

I wrote my name, thus making it official.  I was there, for my A1C, and there was no turning back.

I'm not sure why I shy away from this test so much.  I think it's because I have spent over twenty years putting so much of my self-worth into this percentage.  When it comes back under 7%, I feel like these moments of diabetes difficulty are worth the effort.  I feel strong and confident, like I'm really making strides in achieving good health.

But the bummer numbers.  The ones that are over 7% and cause the endocrinologist to check the "uncontrolled type 1 diabetes" box.  My Internal Motivational Speaker screams in protest at this box checking.  "Hey!  Uncontrolled?  Dude, she's paying attention and really putting forth a huge effort to manage this disease!"  I get overwhelmed by the possibility of complications and maybe not having a healthy pregnancy.  The parts of this disease that I try not to think about, try not to focus on, creep into my thoughts and whisper in my ear.

The phlebotomist put the rubber thing around my bicep, asking me to make a fist.  "To bring out your vein," she said, preparing the needle.

"Oooh, I'm not a fan of needles," I admitted.  

"But you take needles all the time, right?  With the diabetes?"  She tapped my arm a few times with her finger.

"Sort of.  I have a pump.  And a CGM," I gestured to the Dexcom sensor on the back of my arm.  "This takes blood sugar results for me so I don't have to prick my finger so much."

"Aye!  The finger prick!  I do not like that so much at all.  I am a diabetic type 2.  The finger pricking makes me all ... " she made a face to let me know how much the finger pricks stung.  "I do not enjoy it."

"Well I don't enjoy having blood taken.  That's why I am nervous."

She laughed at me softly.  "And that's why you are staring at the wall instead of looking at your arm, right?"

"Damn straight."   

Now I wait.  I should have my results in a few days, and I'm really hoping that this A1C result doesn't reflect the weeks of stress and honeymoon and worky bits.  I hope it shows the hours at the gym, the healthy eating, and the constant monitoring.  Either way, knowing this number is important.  Some would say it's half the battle.  But I wouldn't end this post with a silly reference to GI Joe ... would I?

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (22) | TrackBacks (0)

Thanks to the wonders of my pre-wedding disorganization, I managed to misplace a Dexcom sensor.  Luckily, I found it in the linen closet on Monday night and slapped it on.  Just in time to see some weirdo numbers, apparently. 

Since I've been back from my honeymoon, I've had some trouble getting my numbers back under control.  Seems like all the basals and ratios I was using as "Kerri Morrone" don't seem to work for "Kerri Sparling."  ;)  Thanks to the CGM big picture, I'm trying to isolate what's causing me to go high and low at different times.  Like the morning highs. 

Part of the reason for these highs has to be my morning shower routine.  I have a tendency to wake up, test my blood sugar, disconnect my pump, and then hop into the shower.  After the shower, I need to blow-dry my hair.  Then find something to wear.  (Notice I haven't mentioned reconnecting yet. Whoops.)  Suddenly, I realize that over 35 minutes have passed and I haven't been tethered.   

This wouldn't be such a big deal were it not for the fact that my morning basal rate is cranked up to 1.0u (vs. my normal 0.4u) between the hours of 6:30 am and 10:00 am.  Therefore, I'm losing over half a unit while I'm showering and getting dressed.  This insulin-skip causes my blood sugars to leap up around 9:00 am on some days, leaving me mucking around with a high until almost 11 am.  

Last night I was able to see my overnight patterns.  Dex woke me up at 3:00 am, hollering that I was 49 mg/dl.  I didn't feel low at all, so I tested to confirm the result.  My meter claimed I was 64 mg/dl.  Fourteen point spread, but close enough that the wake-up BEEEEEP! was timed early enough for me to catch the low before I hit the trenches.  I grabbed a swig of juice and checked the graph on Dex - sure enough, I had been falling for over an hour.  

It's very enlightening to have access to these patterns.  When before I thought my mornings were decent, baesd on a test at 7 am, 9:30 am, and 11 am, I'm now seeing that there is a significant amount of fluctuation between these snapshots.  I'm curious to see what the graphs show me tomorrow, when I tweak a bit further. 

And THANK YOU to everyone who offered their insurance battle feedback.  I'm in the 30-day waiting period now, compiling data and trying to follow everyone's suggestions to present my second appeal.  Thanks to Manny for his compelling video, and to everyone who is fighting this same fight.  The technology exists, and we should all be able to access it.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 04:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

(This is a loooong post.  And contains many terms that I just learned today.) 

Dexcom and I are looking forward to being reunited (out of sensors at the moment), but before we can do our Dex-y dance again, I need to get this stuff covered by my insurance plan.  My contact at Dexcom put me in touch with their insurance management team, and they've been working hard to get the proverbial ball rolling.

I spoke with one of the reps earlier in the week.  She was very hopeful about insurance coverage, telling me she'd start processing the claim through Oxford Health (they are my insurance provider) and would touch base with me with the good news.  I laughed.

"Good news?  Let's be honest.  There's rarely ever any good news when it comes to insurance ... anything.  So let's assume they'll reject it, and we'll create a battle plan from there."

She laughed.

"Right.  A battle plan!  I'll contact you as soon as I have any new information."

True to their word, an email came in from Dexcom yesterday. 

"Hi Kerri,
We have not had any luck in getting other patients through Oxford. We also tried to go through a distributor without any luck. So, we are going to ask Oxford for a predetermination or "one-off" approval. We may need to come back to you for more information should they request it. We will keep pushing on our end.
Your plan does provide for DME devices (the DexCom products are a DME benefit). However, you have a $1,000 deductible, with $0 met to date. After that, your coverage is at 70%.
Thanks,
(Dexcom Guy)"

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

We're back in the swing of things at home:  working, writing, laughing at the stupid cats, going to the gym, exploring our surroundings.  Stress levels are lower, thanks to the wedding being behind us, and our routine is a bit more predictable. 

BUT - before the wedding, everything was running amuck.  My schedule was erratic, work was insane, and I was stressed to the point where I couldn't wrap my head around anything.  For the six weeks or so before the wedding, I tweaked my basal rates and bolus ratios several times.  On our honeymoon, I had to tweak again due to a completely relaxed schedule.  And now that we're back, I need to re-tweak once more.

As a result of this readjustment to normal life, my blood sugars have been sort of scattered.  An occasional morning high of 197 mg/dl (which never, ever happens - my overnights are the only thing I have nailed down), some tricky lows at work, and a sticky high after lunch one day.  I'm in the process of working towards Dexcom insurance coverage, but in the meantime, I'm out of sensors and going on my meter results alone.

Last night, after we returned from the gym, I tested.  165 mg/dl post-workout.  No problem - I reconnected, took a correction bolus, and then jumped in the shower.  About five minutes into the shower, my head started to fog up as quickly as the mirror.  My brain was only half-focused on the lather-rinse-repeat routine and instead was starting to wander down that "should I test?" road.

"Nah."  I said to myself.  "I was 165 like ten minutes ago.  Insulin doesn't bullet in that fast."

I yelled out into the hallway.  

"Chris?  I feel kind of low.  I just wanted to let you know.  I'm getting out soon."

"Why don't you just get out now and test?  Do you want me to bring you juice?"  I could tell by his Doppler-voice that he was walking down the hallway towards me.

"No.  I'm fine.  I'll get out when I'm ready, okay?" 

Internal Motivation Speaker yawned in my ear, still not adjusted to being back from vacation.  "Kerri, why the highly bitchy response?  He's right, you know.  Just get out and test."

"I just tested."  I muttered to myself.  

Internal Motivational Speaker sighed.  "Just test.  God, you can be so freaking difficult."

"Fine."  Miserable.  What was with this headache, and why aren't my hands responding to my requests?  I fumbled awkwardly with the towel as I wrapped it around myself, my skin bristling at my own touch.  I grabbed my meter and dried my hands off.  Shunk.  102 mg/dl.

"102.  Maybe I'm sick or something.  I feel like shit."  I sat on the floor for a minute.  Chris stood above me, concerned.

The sound of the air conditioning unit was becoming louder with each second.  Abby came waddling up, urging her head underneath my hand so I would pet her.  Minutes passed, but they felt like hours.  What the heck was wrong with me?  I felt miserable.

I unzipped my meter again.   "I just feel so bad.  I'm going to double check."

Shunk.  35 mg/dl.

"Ah ha!  I knew it!"  I yelled.

"I knew it, too." 

"Okay, let's get some juice."  I drained the bottle in eight quick gulps, leaned back against the side of the bed, and waited for my blood sugar to rise.

It's a strange battle in my body at times.  I knew I was low.  I felt low and should have trusted my instincts.  But sometimes my instincts are unreliable, like when I feel low but am just hungry, or when I feel completely fine and am instead 345 mg/dl.  Maybe I should have trusted a CGM.  But CGMs are best for trending, not spot-checking.  So I should trust my meter.  But sometimes my meter gives me botched results that aren't the fault of hand lotion.  Arghhhh ... who can I trust?

All of these new products being buzzed about.  All of these bells and whistles and colored screens and fancy upgrades and ambitious developments.  I am so thankful for the advances, but all of these companies need to remember that we use this technology to keep us alive.  These bells or whistles aren't substitutes for old-fashioned accuracy.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Yesterday I wrote about my wedding, focusing on the parts that meant the most to me:  the man I love, our families and friends, the church service, saying "I do," and dancing ourselves silly at the reception.

But diabetes was a part of my wedding day.  We did our best to keep it quiet and unnoticed, though, using several tricky methods.  I'm like a diabetes wedding magician ... sort of.

First things first:  the dress.  Wearing an insulin pump is the easiest and least intrusive way for me to take my insulin, and I wasn't about to go off the pump just for the sake of fashion.  My solution?  Design a pocket to hold my insulin pump, hidden in my wedding dress.  I spoke with the seamstress at Ye Olde Bridal Shoppe and she and I designed something that left the pump accessible, yet hidden.

Even if you were looking for it, the pump pocket was almost impossible to find.  Hidden along the seam of my wedding gown, it was held shut with a small piece of velcro.

The hole cut in the seam was just big enough to fit my hand into, so I could reach for the pump.

The hole was big enough for the pump to be pulled through. 

And once it was free, I could make whatever adjustments I needed and then slip the pump back into its pocket.

The pocket itself was underneath the main fabric of the dress, attached to the petticoat.  It was sized to be about half an inch bigger than my insulin pump, leaving room for my hands to reach in and access the pump.  We stuck a safety pin to the top of the pocket so that when I reached in, I could feel around quickly for the pin and know exactly where the top of the pocket was located.  This made pump retrieval and replacement very easy.

The tubing itself went from the top of the pump, through a hole cut into the petticoat, and attached to the infusion site on my right thigh.  I had to plan ahead of time where my infusion set would be located so the pocket could be properly situated.

And during the entire course of my wedding, no one had any clue that I was wearing my insulin pump in my wedding dress.  Even my friends who know about it couldn't find it unless I pointed it out.  I felt empowered and like a secret agent ... only the bridal version.  

So insulin pump:  check.  And I had a few other tricks up my sleeve.  Like the flowers carried by my maid of honor:

After speaking with the florist, she devised a small pocket in the ribbon of NBF's bouquet.  This pocket could hold a life saver (as pictured) or even a tube of cake gel.  As I stood at the altar, I felt safe knowing that NBF had a quick dose of sugar at the ready, if I needed it. 

Diabetes, on the whole, didn't affect my day enough to matter.  I danced, ate cake, and experienced a wild array of emotions.  But there were a few moments when it required some attention.  Like after the ceremony at the church, when I tested and realized my blood sugar had cruised up from 156 mg/dl pre-ceremony to a whopping 380 mg/dl afterwards.  (Nerves - they hit me right in the A1c.)  Before the ceremony, I was running on the high end, cresting up around 160 - 180 mg/dl and holding steady.  And during the reception, I was too excited to eat much, so I let my numbers run higher there, too, to compensate for all the dancing. 

I did have a pretty aggressive low blood sugar just before our first dance, but thanks to my fast-as-lightning maid of honor, a glass of orange juice from the bar held me steady as we were announced on the dance floor as Mr. and Mrs. Christopher and Kerri Sparling. 

"I'm a little low," I admitted to Chris as the opening bars to "The Luckiest" played from the speakers.  He held me close and gave me a smile.

"You'll be fine.  Just focus on me.  As far as I can tell, there's no one else in this room but you." 

You may have had your moments, Diabetes, but my wedding day was mine. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (28) | TrackBacks (0)

When I left work last night, I was en route to running a number of wedding errands.  First stop was Bed, Bath, and BEYOND (what is the "beyond" part anyway) to pick up a few things for our trip.  Felt fine walking around the store, but as I was waiting in line to check out, I was immediately hit by a weird headache, dizziness, and started to feel sweaty. 

Quick meter consultation:  91 mg/dl.

"No way.  No way am I ninety-one.  I must be dropping like a rock."  (People have most likely realized I'm crazy, since I'm constantly muttering to myself.)  Scanning the checkout line, I don't see much in the way of food.  Shouldn't that be part of the "beyond"?  Teeny cheese grater, wine cork with a plastic man on top, a bag to wash unmentionables in so that the dryer doesn't eat them ... where are the snacky bits in this blasted establishment?

I grab the closest food-like item I can spy:  a box of Good n' Fruity candies that look as though they were shipped to this particular B,B & B in 1987.  Cracking it open, I chomped on a few while the cashier rang out my purchases.  I wasn't going to ignore the classic "low blood sugar" symptoms, even if my meter said I was fine.

Out in the car, I was less fine.   Still shaky, still dizzy, now 58 mg/dl.  Have a few more of those moldly old Good n' Fruities.  Fifteen minutes passes and I lance my finger again - 54 mg/dl.  Oh for crying out loud.  I check the glove compartment for my glucose tabs - nothing.  I forgot that I moved them to my gym bag for my workout the night prior.  It's just me and these fruity good things.

Another handful.  Two more handfuls, just for good measure.  It's now been 40 minutes since I rang in at 91 mg/dl.  Isn't this straight sugar?  I test again - 68 mg/dl.

"Are you serious?  Be less good and fruity and be more glucosey and sugar-crammed!"  I gobble down two more handfuls.  More than 2/3 of the box is gone at this point.   I wait (not) patiently, making phone calls to my friends while my blood sugar plods back into range.

Finally - 76 mg/dl.  I'm comfortable driving with that number.

Two hours later, 84 mg/dl.  

Three hours later, 93 mg/dl. 

I'm convinced those Good & Fruity candies were nothing but capsules of insulin with a sugar coating. There is NO WAY I should have been anywhere even close to "in range" after consuming a massive box of them.  I can't figure out what was keeping me running so low for such a long period of time.  Persistent little sucker. 

So note to readers - if you're ever stuck with only these G&F's as your low blood sugar treatment option, beware.  They apparently have a cure tucked in that box somewhere.  ;)

(Oh Google, go ahead and have your way with that phrase.  No, Good & Fruities don't cure diabetes.  They don't even taste good.  Give me Twizzlers any day.)  

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 06:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

No sound woke me up.  I'm not sure how long I was lying there awake and staring off into nothingness, but eventually my shirt felt too sticky and my hands weren't responding to my commands.  Flat on my back and listening to the sounds of Chris's even breathing next to me, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do.  Did I want to go back to sleep?  Did I want to try and get out of bed myself?  Did I want to flip on the lamp and finish reading my book?

I knew I was low.  I needed juice so badly and my torso was damp from panic, but I still couldn't stop thinking these completely ridiculous thoughts.  Was I ready to call the church tomorrow morning and confirm the readings we'd selected for our wedding service?  Was that the sound of one of the cats picking at the couch?  I really wanted to just read my book.  Or go back to sleep.  Could not focus on the task at hand.  My brain just wasn't operating.

My eyes slipped shut and I fell into a nervous few moments of sleep, waking to feel those waves of nausea and lethargy wrapping around my body like a snake. 

"Wake up, Kerri.  Wake him up.  Get some help.  Now is not the best time to finish your book."  Internal Motivational Speaker piped up in my ear, yawning.  It was 3 am and she was irritated I had woken her up.  "You're low, kiddo.  Wake him up and ask for help." 

"Chris."  

He woke up instantly, as though he had been waiting for me to say his name.

"Chris.  I need juice.  It's right there on the table but I can't get it.  Please?"  I sound so rational, like I'm in control but inside my body is rattling.

Seconds later, I've drained the bottle and am lying back down, the covers tossed aside and Abby prowling nervously at the foot of the bed.

"I'm dizzy."  My voice felt like it was stuck at the back of my throat, too timid to venture out in full.  "I feel very dizzy, baby.  I'm nervous I might pass out.  Okay?  I need you to know that."

He turned on the light and sat beside me.  "Stay awake, okay?  You drank the juice.  It's going to be better in just a minute."

All I could think about was that damn book, sitting on the bedside table.  I was about 20 pages away from finishing it and it seemed a lot easier to immerse myself in someone else's fictional life than to attend to this low blood sugar.

A few minutes pass.  Chris reaches for my meter and clumsily unzips it.  I can tell just from the sounds that he's not loading up the strip the same way I do, or clicking back the lancet device with the same cadence. Setting up the meter and testing has become autonomic for me and I do it without thinking.  I could hear him struggling, so familiar with the sights but not as fluid when he does it himself.

Shunk.

43 mg/dl.  After juice.  

"Whoa.  I must have been low.  That's after juice."  My brain works rationally, my sentences sound slow, deliberate, but not tangled.   "I can't lift my arms.  My fingers aren't working."  These are not complaints.  These are matter-of-fact statements, spoken to my fiance and hanging there in the air.  "I still feel dizzy.  Can you get the honey?"

Instantly, he's back with that little jar shaped like a bear.  I open the top and wait clumsily for the honey to trickle to the top of the spout.  I take a long pull, my mouth recoiling at the sticky sweetness. 

"Can I sleep?  I've eaten so much.  I'll end up at 300 no problem.   How about we sleep now?"

"How about you lay down and I'll stay awake with you."

I think about that book again.

"Okay.  Just a few minutes.  Then we'll go back to sleep."

Twenty minutes pass.  I regain control of my hands and they reach over to rub his shoulder.

"Thank you, baby.  I feel much better now.  It's okay to sleep now.  I'm better."

This morning, 108 mg/dl.  After all that juice and the honey, I should have been upwards of 270 mg/dl.

I have no idea what causes these late night lows.  Ive only had the Dexcom off for a few days but it seems that this high-stress time is the best time to be wearing it.  I'm dealing with the insurance companies tomorrow. 

(But, for the record, I finished reading the book while I was blow-drying my hair this morning, the little honey bear sitting on the bathroom counter, watching me.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 05:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm standing at the counter at the bank and I hear my cell phone buzzing.  Then I hear the Dexcom wailing out its BEEEEEEEP.  My pump starts to buzz from inside my bra (wearing a dress today).  Every bit of technology I have is exploding all at once and I'm just trying to make a damn deposit.

"Miss, I just need your account number."

"Account number, sure.  I can get that for you."  BEEEEEEEEP again.  Why is it beeping again?  It should only beep once when I'm high.  My goodness, I'm awfully warm, despite standing underneath the bank air conditioning unit.

I stick my hand into my bag and forage about.  My fingertips feel like they're trapped in cotton balls and I can't quite get a good handle on my wallet.  Instead, I grab the Dex, which is BEEEEEPing again, and press a button.

Oh shit, LOW.  Below 40 mg/dl.  I press the down button and see "39 mg/dl" next to the blood sugar graph, which now looks like the Cliffs of Insanity from The Princess Bride.

"Here is my license.  Can you pull my account numbers by looking up my name, please?  I'm diabetic and having a little low blood sugar at the moment and I need to drink this juice."  I hand the teller my license and raise up the bottle of juice with my other hand, like one of the Price is Right models.

"No problem.  I'll get your account numbers.  Do you want to have a seat?"

"No, no thanks."  I drain the bottle between words.  "I'm good.  I just need to focus a bit and let my blood sugar come up."

He typed some numbers in on his keyboard and passed my receipt through the bank printer.  "This isn't some elaborate plan to rob the bank, is it?"

I laughed.  Just drinking the juice alleviated the low-panic enough for me to act like a normal (slightly sweaty) person.  "I'm not robbing the bank.  But I may take one of those free lollipops, if that's okay."

He hands me my receipt, along with three purple lollipops.  "Here you go.  Why don't you wait a few minutes over there," he gestures towards the bank reception area, "for your blood sugar to come up?  I don't want you to drive yet."

"Okay.  Thanks for your help."

And I teeter carefully on my heels (far too high for such a low blood sugar) over to one of the plush, blue chairs.  Sinking into the chair and waiting for the juice to do its thing, I unwrapped one of the lollipops.  My feet didn't quite reach the floor, as I was sitting so far back in the chair.  But I was starting to feel better.

People came in and out of the bank over the next ten minutes while I rested, looking over and most likely wondering what that grown woman was doing there, face flushed, swinging her feet, and sucking happily on a lollipop. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (22) | TrackBacks (0)

The Dexcom has added a whole new dimension to my existence:  Muttering.

Kerri:   (muttering, of course)  Okay, so you say 176 mg/dl.  My meter says 150 mg/dl.  But you say I'm rising. 

Dex:  (silence)

Kerri:  (checking her pump for any insulin on board)  Hmm.  I don't want to end up high.  I can see that the numbers are climbing on the Dex and ...

Dex:  (like a lion roaring through a megaphone, or maybe a jet plane taking off inside an empty pool)  BEEEEEEEEP.  High - above 180 mg/dl.

Kerri:  Ahhhh!  

Kerri's Office Mates:  Kerri, are you beeping?

dLife CEO:  (from office)  Is that you or me?

Kerri:  Yeah, it's me.

Dex:  Beeeeeeeeeeeep!

Kerri:  (muttering again) I don't want to be high.  Dex says I'm high.  I should take a little bolus to correct this.

Pump:  Boop beep boop.

Dex:  Beeeeeeeep!

dLife CEO:  (from office)  Did you bolus?

Kerri:  Ahhhhhhhh!

Working with the Dexcom has really enlightened me as to how quickly my blood sugars skyrocket during times of stress.  It has also shown me that my overnights are so finely-tuned that my numbers are flat-lined throughout the night.  (That makes me very, very happy.)  But Dex is also making me a little more OCD than usual, and I'm feeling oft-compelled to correct blood sugars when I should instead let them ride and settle neatly on their own.  I'm quickly developing a nasty habit of pinch bolusing for EVERYTHING, which is causing some tricky little lows. 

I need to learn to be patient with this new technology.  I also need to remember that the Dexcom updates much faster than my insulin works, so I can't be chasing every Dex result with the boop of a bolus.  Sometimes I just need to let my insulin work and learn to better manage the emotional blow of an upward cresting graph.   

(Unrelated:  I saw llamas today on my lunch break.  They did not have diabetes, but they did have wonderful personalities.)   

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

It's official:  I'm applying to have my Dexcom 7 covered by insurance.  I'm choosing to make the Dex part of my management plan.  Over the next week or so, I'll be battling my insurance company to cover my sensors.  Yes, I'm taking the leap.  I don't plan to wear it every single day, but I know I will be sporting it several times a month, more so when I'm closer to planning a pregnancy.

"How's the accuracy?"

It's as accurate as can be expected for new technology - and by accurate, I mean that the Dex7 says I'm 143 mg/dl, my meter says I'm 154 mg/dl.  Those it's higher than I'd like to be (more on that in a minute), thos