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Crocheting Out of a Low.

What, you don’t have piles of scarves at your disposal, crafted in efforts to avoid over-eating?  Yes, yarn is part of my diabetes arsenal … didn’t see that one coming, did you?  (I didn’t.  Also, I’m old.  Also, speak up so I can hear you, young whippersnapper, and when you’re done, get off my lawn!)

 

Over It.

It was sitting in traffic on the way to Boston for an endocrinologist appointment, spending more time in the car than in the actual care of my medical team.  The appointment was fine, and my A1c still holds steady in a range I’m comfortable with, and I even brought print outs of my meter results and a list of questions I had, but it felt like a wasted day.  A whole day.  I’m over it.

While I was printing out the meter data, I ended up a little pissed off because I couldn’t find the charger for my ancient PC, which meant I couldn’t boot up that computer, which meant I couldn’t download my Dexcom data.

A pump site completely gave up on me without any warning what so ever, with the tubing disconnecting from the housing cleanly and neatly and quietly, leaving me without insulin for an undetermined amount of time and bringing 6 am crashing in with ketones and the kind of thirst that you find yourself drinking gulps of water from the bathroom faucet without pausing for breath or to consider your canine behavior.

Another pump site came off too early (not even through day two) due to going to the beach and getting sandy and soggy.  A third pump site left one of those scaly rings that aren’t uncomfortable but are a visual reminder of where the device was once resting.

A CGM sensor came fresh out of the unopened packet with the adhesive edging all gaffed up, making the brand-new sensor completely unsticky and essentially unusable.  Yet I still tried to use it out of defiance and conservation, but it wouldn’t stick and was useless within a few minutes.  Waste of a perfectly good sensor.

I pulled another CGM sensor off my body while I was traveling last week, during a low I had while I was sleeping.  I remember reaching down to rub my leg (when I should have been reaching for glucose tabs) and gripped the side of the sensor and pulled it off.  I guess I wanted to stop the beeping, which had been going on for over twenty minutes.  After the low was over and I woke up to start my day, I grabbed a new sensor from my suitcase and stuck it on.  Thankfully, I had a spare with me. I always have a spare something on me.  I prepare for this stuff, and I’m doing all the necessary tasks to properly attempt management of my type 1 diabetes.  My blood sugars are good.  My averages are good.  I should be feeling good.

But at the same time, I’m over it.

And it’s not just the diabetes tech bits that are fueling my fire of frustration.  During the course of the ADA conference, all of the walking contributed to several lows that were nagging and stubborn.  Same for when I was traveling earlier in the month – lows that just cling and make my mouth go numb and my jaw feel unhinged, fogging up the lenses of my synapses.  Not fun, and made for an especially heavy purse, since I needed to carry so many extra glucose tabs while I was on the move.  (That, and I think I brushed my teeth seven times one day to keep from becoming a clearing house for cavities.)

That’s how I’ve been feeling lately:  so over it.  Aside from good lab work results at the doctor’s office, diabetes has been a pain in the ass lately, and I’m tired of its antics.  All the news I’ve received lately isn’t awesome, and I’m dealing with that as best I can.  I’m frustrated by technology.  Tired of the devices.  Enough with the toting around all the nonsense.  Enough with the lows.  Enough with the highs, too.  Eff preparedness.  I just want to leave the house with my car keys, not the contents of my medicine cabinet.  I want to go for a run without bringing tabs or caring what direction the arrows are pointing.  See also:  a momentary “waaaaaah.”

Reading about the bionic pancreas put words to my “meh.”  My brain is never quiet, never still, because of the work that goes into achieving the baseline that people without diabetes take for granted.

It’s not diabetes burnout.  It’s not depression.  It’s not a period of rebellion or particular frustration.  I’m sure I’ll shake off this funk in a few days (a proper night’s sleep wouldn’t hurt).  But I’ve hit a wall in the last few weeks, and it’s everything to do with diabetes.  I’m ready for a day off.  I’d like to wake up in the morning and take care of my family and my work without giving blood sugars and all their assorted bullshit a second thought.

I’m over it.

Exhaust.

Bullet points – for those moments when sentence structure is too much of a challenge and thoughts are melting like butter on a frying pan (which, for the record, is the second best smell ever, after Bounce dryer sheets).

  • The ADA Scientific Sessions were informative and exhausting.  My brain is tired from trying to absorb a ton of information and process dozens of conversations, my legs are tired from doing laps around the convention center to attend sessions and explore the exhibit hall, and my eyelids are tired from being forced to stay open for the better part of four days.
  • To that end, I haven’t had enough sleep yet to properly roll the conference experience around in my head, so the main thing I keep revisiting is this jar of cheese balls and Lindt chocolate truffles that the Diasend folks had at their booth as one of those “guess how many things are in this jar of things” contest.  I don’t remember what they were raffling off, but I can’t stop thinking about the bizarre combination of tastes.
  • I love this Diabetes Advocates initiative about helping patients (and doctors) make the most of medical appointments by learning how to prepare for, and be empowered during, medical appointments.  A little information goes a terribly long way.
  • And in line with that thought process (see?  I’m becoming linear as the coffee sets in), I love this post from PWD/HCP Michelle Sorensen about The Two Words Patients Most Want to Hear.  (I’m also looking forward to presenting with Michelle on diabetes and social media at this fall’s Canadian Diabetes Association annual meeting. /sidenote)
  • I need someone to come to my house and physically force my finger to press “delete” on the Candy Crush app on my phone.  It defines “wasted time” but I still come close to being blinded by glee when I am able to complete a row of five candies and get one of those freaking chocolate-ball-with-sprinkles things.
  • Please don’t judge.
  • Actually, please judge.  I need help.
  • I can’t explain how I fell into this web-based wormhole about diabetes and parrots, but I did.  And I’m not sorry.
  • My daughter is so excited to attend the Friends for Life conference that, in her mind, “the conference” has replaced “Magic Kingdom” as the highlight of Florida for her.
  • This is the funniest thing I have seen in my life.  The Oatmeal never disappoints, but sometimes it startles me.  I was flipping through while at the airport in Chicago and came across this photo.  It’s horrible and slightly NSF (unless you work somewhere with sassy standards), so click with caution.
  • Check out this next video in the Insulindependence journey towards the Athletic Achievement Awards.  So many amazing PWD in the DOC (acronyms for the win) are up for this awards – be sure to cast your vote by watching applicant videos!
  • The latest issue of diaTribe has a new SUM Musings, where I’m talking about five tips I lean on heavily to manage my diabetes.   What would be your top five?
  • And lastly, Kelly Close test drove the bionic pancreas as part of the BU/MGH study, and her write up is fascinating.  This quote had my heart in knots:  “I feel forever changed, having been part of this research study, and now knowing (albeit only for a week) what “normal” life was like before diabetes – not having to carb count, not experiencing any hypoglycemia, not feeling tired all the time, and not having diabetes on my mind every five minutes.”

I feel better.  Not nearly organized yet, but better.  Thanks.  🙂

Type Awesome.

This came in the mail from the folks at Lauren’s Hope, as a fun little thing for Birdy.  She’s not a PWD, but she supports and loves a PWD, which makes her a Type Awesome (or so the Internet tells me).  

As I think about what my daughter has learned about her mom’s diabetes, and what I want her to know, and how she inspires me to take the best care of myself I possibly can, I agree:  Type Awesome pretty much sums her up.

Check Yourself.

Sometimes it’s not about the actual “pricking of the finger” but more the “finding out what the number is.”  Here’s a new video post about the power of knowing your numbers, in efforts to not wreck yo self.

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