Skip to content

Archive for

Looking Back (and Forward): Diabetes Haiku.

During this week’s #DSMA chat, a sidebar discussion about diabetes haiku broke out, and in a matter of seventeen syllables, things took a poetic term.


I was reminded of a post from a few years ago about insulin haiku that still rings true because I’m clearly still hooked on the stuff:

Such a small bottle
with such a huge influence
on my whole damn life.

In a carefully orchestrated combination of syllables, what would your diabetes haiku say?

104 mg/dL.

Am I the only one who stops when this number pops up on a glucose meter and thinks, “Damn.  That could be on the meter advertisement box.  I’ve got this.”

Meter box advertisement #latergram

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

(Ignore the fact that I will surely be low, or high, or somewhere not exactly 104 mg/dL in a matter of hours.  But in that moment, I’ve got this.  Actually, since writing my post the other day, I’ve been actively working to spend more time in range and I’m seeing better results.  Averages are tipping back into my favor, and I’m reminded once again how much of diabetes is a total crap shoot and how much is something I can change … and how much those ratios of crap:change fluctuate.)

Why I Pack Heavy.

“And then Marcus gave me a Valentine and it had SPIDERMAN STICKERS on it and I love Spiderman stickers so that was the best Valentine I got except the one from Maddie that had a pencil and that was ALSO THE BEST ONE,” yelled Birdzone from the backseat as I was buckling myself into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah?  So Valentine’s Day at school was awesome?” I asked her, reaching over my left shoulder to grab the belt.

And then I felt that familiar, gentle * pop * of the infusion set coming loose from the back of my arm.

Rarely do I have the chance to use my emergency supplies (which is a plus because that means I rarely have emergencies), but I always carry them.  Even though I wear an insulin pump, I keep a back-up pen of Humalog floating around in my purse.  Sure, it will eventually expire and I’ll have to swap it out for a new one, but in a pinch, it’s enough.

And even though it’s a bulky little spaceship to keep on hand, I always have a back-up Inset for just-in-case moments, like when I accidentally rip out my infusion set in the parking lot of Birdy’s school.

This is why I don’t ever pack light; when you’re a klutzy PWD, a small purse just isn’t an option.

 

That Escalated Quickly.

After downloading and uploading and reloading all my device data to Diasend, I’ve seen the Big Picture, and it kind of blows.

For a good, long clip, things have been completely fine.  In range most of the time, not too many gross lows, and highs were classified as an extended 180 mg/dL, with symptoms to boot.  Well done!  Diabetes on point!  Celebrate by shoveling snow!

But a hiccup here and there have given way to a slippery slope of fuckery.  My two week average a month ago was fine.  My two week average yesterday was gross and not at all where I want it (and know I can have it).

I’m glad I’ve looked at my data, because I’m not sure I would have noticed just how dodgy things had become.  (And a quiet but still curmudgeonish thank you to the need for a flurry of paperwork in order to get my new insulin pump through insurance approval, forcing me to provide blood sugar logs and other data points in order to convince my insurance company that yes, I do have type 1 diabetes.)

I didn’t realize how much higher my two week average had become until I looked at it and recognized the need for change.  Two weeks for me makes a big difference, because it’s in that time frame where I make crappy tendencies into crappy habits.  Ignoring high alarms is okay for a day, but not for a week.  Forgetting to pre-bolus can roll by a few times but more than that equals out to crummy postprandials.  Carby food choices that are lackadaisically carb-counted brings on the blood sugar roller coaster.

Eff that noise.

Time to deescalate this.  Quickly.  Before it becomes as piled on as the three foot mound of snow on the back deck.

I’m Not a Doctor, But I Can Help.

“Mom, what is that rose?” she asked as colored at the kitchen table.

“It is part of a thing I’m working on that helps kids with diabetes who need insulin.”

“You give them insulin?”

“Kind of.  These kids live in countries that are far from here, but they have diabetes like I do.  And their fridge doesn’t have insulin in it, so we’re helping to give them insulin.”

“What happens if they don’t get insulin?”

“They can get sick.  And feel really bad.  So insulin helps keep them from getting sick.”

It’s hard to explain to my daughter why our fridge has insulin in it and why I don’t worry about where my next injection is coming from.  It’s hard to explain why insulin is so small, so silent, but so important in keeping her mother alive.

“I want to help.  I’m not a doctor but I can help,” she said.  “We can take one of your bottles of insulin in the fridge and put it in a FedEx and send it over to those kids.”

We send a little bit of money that helps do that.  Five dollars.  It helps.”

“So they can have insulin, too?”

“Exactly.”

“And so they can not be sick?”

“Exactly again.”

“That sounds like a good idea, mom.”

Exactly.  

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox

Join other followers