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Posts from the ‘Diabetes Products’ Category

Bag of Hope … For Adults?

I’ve always thought Rufus was pretty cute, so when the JDRF link for their Bag of Hope flew by in my Facebook feed, I clicked.  (Rufus is my clickbait.)

According to the website, the Bag of Hope includes (but isn’t limited to):

  • Rufus Comes Home, A First Book for Understanding Diabetes, reference books
  • A JDRF DVD
  • An ACCU-CHEK® Nano SmartView blood glucose meter
  • Informational postcard about the support Lilly Diabetes offers families with a bookmark
  • Lilly Diabetes literature on severe hypoglycemia management
  • A Novo Nordisk key chain Webkey with details on the NovoPen Echo® reusable insulin pen
  • A Novo Nordisk postcard with information on T1D support from novologreach.com
  • A Road ID bracelet for Rufus, as well as a discount coupon for a Road ID bracelet for your child
  • Dexcom® continuous glucose monitor educational brochure and water bottle

I don’t know if the Bag of Hope was a thing when I was diagnosed in 1986, but the fact that they exist now is awesome.  I love this.  I love the thought that a family dealing with a diabetes diagnosis has proof of life after diagnosis, right there in a bag.  It helps connect people to the JDRF, but most importantly, it helps connect people with people.

But if there’s anything we’ve learned in the last 30 years, it’s that type 1 diabetes diagnoses are not limited to kids.  Adults are being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.  Adults are living with diabetes.  And they still need a good dose of hope here and there, too.

The JDRF has their T1D Care Kit, which is awesome, a PWD can dream, rightt?  What would I stick in a Bag of Hope for Adults with T1D?

Here’s my wishlist [note: already being edited]:

I’m fueled by a bunch of bias with these selections, and I know I’m missing a bunch of things that, once I hit “post,” I’ll have to go back and add to the list, but this is my starter list.

What would you want to see included in an outreach bag for adults with type 1 diabetes?

 

Diabetes Relics: Accu-Chek II.

Whose pockets were what size now?

[here's a link to a full size photo]

Scanned from the pages of the Fall 1986 issue of “Diabetes Forecast: The newsletter for people who live with diabetes,” this was my first glucose meter.

Next week marks 28 years with type 1 diabetes for me, and looking back at the technology I used upon diagnosis, I see how far things have come.  I wonder if I’ll look back, decades from now, and marvel at the cumbersome technology of 2014.

Maybe I’ll be all making my own insulin and tending to a big, fat glass of Reisling and not giving a shit because research will have finally caught up with hope.

The Dexcom / Mac Dance.

Sharing, because that’s what friends do.

Brian Bosh, living with type 1 diabetes and also apparently a very clever guy, found a workaround for uploading Dexcom G4 data to a Mac computer. Yes, you read that correctly.

“I created Chromadex because I was trying #DIYPS but hated carrying around a second phone. I figured I was close enough to a computer enough of the time that I could run an uploader on there and it would work well enough. There already is an uploader for Windows and Android, but no way to do it on the Mac. (Or Linux for that matter.) Once the uploader was built, though, I thought it really ought to do some of the same things Dexcom Studio did, since that’s not available on Mac either: If I had the data, I might as well offer their reports too. At this point it will upload to #DIYPS, NightScout and run three reports. It still takes a little bit of wrenching to get it to upload and I’d like to make that easier. Had a few people ask if I could make it work with MMOL. I’d like to get more reports working.”

I haven’t downloaded my data yet via this application, but others have:

If you want to try it for yourself, visit the Chrome web store and download Chromadex for free. And if you like how it works, please thank Brian.

#wearenotwaiting

Clouding on the Road.

The CGM in the Cloud concept matters most to me when I’m traveling alone.  While I was in Orlando last week, my bedside table looked like this at night:

A Moto G hooked up to my Dexcom G4, sending CGM data to the cloud.

And that data being routed to my family back in Rhode Island and to my wristwatch.

A few questions I heard from people throughout the conference:

“What peace of mind does it give you that the CGM itself doesn’t?”

I slept better with this thing rigged up.  It’s a clumsy set-up (all those cables and wires and plugged-in-ports) but the ends justify the means.  Chris could see my data while I was sleeping, and his system would alert him to any wicked overnight hypos, should they occur.  That’s some good peace of mind for me when I’m a plane ride away from my support system.  While my overnights are usually unnervingly spot-on (nailing down my overnight basal has been the luckiest break ever, and I blame my in-range A1C on spending those 6+ sleeping hours in-target), low blood sugars still creep in and can cause chaos.  I liked being hooked up while I was sleeping.

“Why wear it connected throughout the day?”

It was more convenient than I thought to have the graph running on a watch.  I didn’t realize how often I go digging through my bag for my Dexcom receiver until I spent a few days not doing that.  I like the seamless flick of the wrist and the “Hey, that’s my number,” and moving one sentiment.  But, to be honest, I think I kept it hooked up during the day partly because I knew people would have questions/want to see the rig and I wanted to be able to show them. Nothing answers questions better than seeing the system “in the wild.”

“Why don’t you wear it all the time?”

What made it less convenient to keep the system “clouding” on this trip is that I haven’t purchased a data plan for the Android phone yet, and have been running it off of open wifi signals (the hotel, convention center, restaurants, etc).  That’s a definite hurdle, and since the system is most important for me to run while I’m sleeping during travel (or home while Chris is traveling), using wifi seems to work best for my needs.  It’s simple to connect/disconnect from the cloud system as I need to.  I’m also hesitant to tax the USB port on my Dexcom receiver because I don’t have a spare receiver and I also don’t want to break the device I have come to rely on.

“Do you really want your family seeing your numbers all the time?  What about your privacy?”

Really good question.  This is why I’m looking forward to the Dexcom Share application, because that app will allow me to revoke access to my data if I choose.  As it stands now, my CGM data is clouded to a site that I have shared with my husband and my mother, and if I’m hooked up to the CGM in the Cloud system, they have access to my data.  It’s not a password-protected application.  I would love to see the data protected by some kind of password system.  I appreciate the option to share the data for my safety, but not for their scrutiny.  However, when it comes to the overnights while I’m traveling, I don’t care who sees those numbers.  Their having access makes me feel less vulnerable, and I’m willing to sacrifice my data privacy for those 6+ hours.

Clouding CGM data is a work-in-progress.  Much like life with diabetes.

#wearenotwaiting

 

 

Go Bionic: Ed Damiano, Clara Barton Camp, and How the Bionic Pancreas “Really Works.”

During my visit to Clara Barton Camp yesterday, I heard the same sentiment over and over again from the kids wearing the bionic pancreas:  “It works.”

“It was weird not to touch the buttons when it beeped,” Addy said, an 11 year old camper at Clara Barton Camp who has been living with type 1 diabetes since she was two.  “I’d reach down to look at it or touch it when it beeped but then I’d have to remember not to touch anything.”

“A big change from needing to check every beep and look at the devices all the time, right?  So when did you feel like you were used to wearing it?”  I asked her.

“Yesterday.  Yesterday, it beeped and I didn’t reach down.  I just said, ‘Whatever.’”

“You trusted it?”

“Yes.  I trusted it.  It works.  If you check it, it’s perfect.  My blood sugars are perfect.”

Addy has been wearing the bionic pancreas since Sunday, part of  the Bionic Pancreas study taking place at The Barton Center (and also the Joslin Camp) this summer.  She’s one of thirteen campers at Barton taking part in the study, ages ranging from six to 11 years old, six girls suited up with the bionic pancreas last week and seven this week.  “My blood sugars have been perfect – I haven’t been low at all and I haven’t been high, except for one 203 mg/dL.”

If a week without blood sugar excursions sounds like an impossible dream, take heart.  Take pancreas, too, because this technology actually exists and is currently attached to seven girls in Massachusetts.  And not “seven girls stuck in a hospital bed under strict activity guidelines,” but seven girls who are running amuck at camp, swimming, dancing, singing in the dining hall, and burping at picnic tables outside of the cabins.  The bionic pancreas has been highlighted in the New York Times, NPR, chronicled extensively over at diaTribe, and has also been the subject of a frequently-downloaded-and-rabidly-shared New England Journal of Medicine article.

The system has a few moving parts:  two t:slim insulin pumps with the Bluetooth switched on for communicating with the phone (one filled with insulin and one filled with glucagon), a Dexcom CGM, and an iPhone.  An in-depth look at how the technology works together can be found in the NEJM paper, but the basic gist is that the Dexcom monitors blood sugars and sends that data to the iPhone, which is running an algorithm that doses insulin, glucagon, or refrains from dosing anything at all.  Lows can be corrected by glucagon, highs by insulin.  Meals aren’t carb counted, but instead the algorithm “learns” what a big meal, small meal, or snack is based on minimal input from the PWD.

“It’s beautiful,” I said to Ed Damiano, one of the principal investigators on the project, after seeing some of the blood sugar outcomes from previous studies.

“It’s still a little clunky,” he replied.  “I want to see one device, one infusion set.  But this?  It works.”

Currently, the camp study at Barton has girls on the full bionic pancreas system for five days, and then five days on their own insulin pump, but with the CGM blinded to the user and still uploading to the cloud.  Bionic pancreas campers are required to check their blood sugar at least seven times per day.  Due to camp safety protocols, the study team can’t let low blood sugars “ride” and assume that the bionic pancreas will step in with glucagon in time, so success on some levels isn’t judged by minimal time below 70 mg/dL but instead the reliable metric becomes how many times did the study team need to intervene for a low blood sugar.

This summer, there are a few new features on the bionic pancreas.  One is “microburst glucagon,” which is most useful for when people are disconnecting the system for swimming or similar, in efforts to provide a safety net for low blood sugars while doing that kind of activity.  There is also an option for temporary targets, which allows people to adjust their target thresholds.  “Normally, we aim for 100 mg/dL, but if we can adjust the threshold and show a change in the A1C based on that adjustment, we’re able to titrate A1C levels using the bionic pancreas,” said Ed.

Some challenges still exist with the system.  The bulky devices, for one, are their own challenge, but as the project moves forward, the diabetes community rallies to support current needs.  “Donna from Tallygear came up and made these ‘GO BIONIC!” belts in a matter of 48 hours.” Ed said, smiling.  “We didn’t ask her to do that.  She offered, and we are so grateful because the kids love them.”

The kids sing the praises of this device.  Ally, diagnosed in 2009 at the age of five, wore the bionic pancreas the week before Addy suited up. “It really works. When I saw the video online, I thought it was made up. I thought the girl in the video was lucky, and that her numbers were just perfect that day. And then I wore it [the bionic pancreas] and I was like, ‘Wait … it really does work!’”

Addy chimed in, her bionic pancreas belt visible over her shirt:  “Ally wore this last week and now I’m wearing it.  She said to me, ‘If you don’t want to wear it, can I wear it for you?’”

Ally nodded.  “I did say that.”

“Does the weight of the device bug you?”  I asked Ally.

“No.  It’s a little heavier but I don’t care.  Even with all the pumps on and the phone, I could still do a back-handspring in the grass.”

The study at Barton concludes this week and then moves over to the nearby boys’ camp.  But after this study finishes, there is still work to be done.  The amazing bionic pancreas team has come so far and the 2016 pivotal study is in sight, but needs community support to get there.

This is where the Bionic Challenge comes in.

According to the website call-to-action:  “The Bionic Challenge asks each family to raise $5,000 in 60 days (by September 1, 2014). If each family in attendance here today can turn to their friends and relatives and obtain 50 $100 donations (that means finding only about one donation per day for the next seven weeks), we can resume our development effort in September and keep on schedule for our final pivotal study in 2016. If we cannot resume in September, it could jeopardize our ability to secure a recently announced time-limited $20MM NIH funding opportunity, which is due in about nine months (April 15, 2015) and could support all of the clinical costs of our pivotal study.”

tl;dr:  the project needs the support of the diabetes community because, without it, the goal of a 2016 pivotal study may be delayed. If you can donate, please do. If you can’t, please consider sharing this information with someone who can. The more people who know how to help, the better.

After being promised a “cure in five years” back in 1986, the idea of the bionic pancreas being delayed because of money makes me feel insane. I could understand a delay if the technology wasn’t up to snuff, but to delay due to funding is unreasonable.  I saw kids playing outside yesterday afternoon, running around and laughing and having fun and the burden of diabetes seemed only as heavy as the belt around their waist, which with time and technology becomes smaller and lighter.

“I look at diabetes as management and maintenance,” said Ed, as we sat in the Barton Center bionic pancreas command center, where the study team was hard at work monitoring the campers blood sugars from the cloud.  “The maintenance part is the changing of an infusion set, the changing of a sensor, the checking of blood sugars.  The management part, to me, is the emotional part of diabetes.  The fact that you are so often told that you’re ‘wrong’ because you’re trying to thread the needle.  This device doesn’t take away from the maintenance part because it still requires that you wear something, do something, change something.  But it does make the management part smaller.  So much smaller.”

I don’t know if a biological cure will be seen in my lifetime.  I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in 1986 and have been living well, but not without frustration, as a host to this disease for almost 28 years.  My perception of what a “cure” is has changed as I’ve grown older, and my hope for something that takes this disease away fades with time.  But seeing the bionic pancreas at work, around the waists of children not much older than my own, and watching the worries of diabetes lifted from their minds and the minds of their families, I feel renewed hope.  More hope than I’ve felt in a long, long time because this is real.  I held it in my hand.  It filled me back up.

Because it works.

You can follow the progress of the bionic pancreas on the Bionic Pancreas website and “like” their Facebook page for more updates.  Links to articles featuring the bionic pancreas are here , and this video shows you how, and why, the bionic pancreas works:

Giveaway: iHealth Meter (but not a bird).

A few weeks ago, a couple of iHealth glucometers showed up in the mail, courtesy of the marketing team at iHealth Labs.  I have not tried this meter out yet, and I have no clue how it performs against my current glucose meter … but I’m curious.  It’s a teeny little meter and it plugs into the headphone jack on my phone, so it definitely gets points for subtlety and discretion, but since I haven’t bled on the thing yet, I am clueless.

Which is why I’m giving away two iHealth glucometers, so you we can figure this thing out together.  Would you like to try one out?  Enter below by leaving a comment, answering the age-old question of “Which finger is your go-to one for blood glucose checks?”

But there’s a bit of a catch – if you win the iHealth glucometer, I would really appreciate it if you would share your feedback with me, so I can share it with my brain (and also include it in a review post).  Would that be okay with you?  Two winners will receive one iHealth glucometer and a box of 50 test strips.  Again, I have absolutely no idea how this meter performs and FOR CRYING OUT LOUD remember that nothing you read on this blog is medical advice, so be sure to check with your medical team if you have questions or concerns or an itchy rash.  (Especially if you have an itchy rash.)

iHealth glucometer and test strips

(bird added for … just for fun, actually)

The giveaway runs until tomorrow night at 10 pm EST and is for US residents only.  The bird does not come with the giveaway, nor do the scratches on my coffee table.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

How Often Should I Change My Lancet? (A “Grost.)

source: Type 1 Diabetes Memes

(Taking a cue from Glu today because when this post rolled through my feed, I was like, “Hmmm.  A lot now, but before?  NEVER!!”)

Every single time there’s a new meme about changing the lancet in a finger pricker device (nope, that is not the technical term), I laugh because they are all true in that “whoops” sort of way.

Upstairs in the bathroom closet, I have boxes and boxes of lancets for all kinds of different poker devices (again, not the technical term).  All different sizes and shapes and gauges … years and years worth of lancets for half a dozen different devices.  (Except The Guillotine.  That thing was retired decades ago, thank goodness.)  And the reason I have so many lancets stashed?  I went years without regularly changing my lancet.

Gross.  I know.  And I’ve seen that photo of what a needle looks like before use, after one use, and after six uses and yes, it grosses me right the hell out.  But for a long, long time, I changed my lancet once a month.  Maybe once a week, depending.  And I only changed it if it didn’t procure a good blood droplet or if it went into my fingertip and got “stuck.”  (You know what I mean … when you press the button and the lancet deploys, only it lodges itself into your fingertip and has a weird suction feeling when it pulls out?  Horribly horrible.)  Lancet swapping-out was a shameful non-priority for a long time.

Two things made me start changing my lancet regularly:

ONE.  A friend told me about how she’d heard a story about a person with diabetes whose fingertips were downright gangrenous because they didn’t change their lancet.  “Ew, really?”  “Really.”  And even though I stand firmly on the “hope vs. fear” motivation concept, this story about mostly-dead fingertips made me want to throw up.  Then I started searching the Internet for information on needle reuse and the photos made me want to apologize profusely to all my digits.  I had no idea how nasty and serrated the needle edges became after just one use.  I thought about all the times I had injected syringes through my jeans in high school.  I thought about how a box of lancets could last me two years.  I thought about how gross I was.  Gross, gross, groooooosssssss.

TWO.  And then I explored lancing device options.  I had heard really good things about the Accu-Chek Multiclix (mostly from Sara, because she frigging loves hers), and the device was snazzy because it comes with a drum of lancets that automagically swap out, but the size of the thing was too big for the case I kept my meter in.  Switching to the One Touch Delica was the winner, for me, because the lancet gauge is so thin that I’m forced to change it regularly because otherwise, I don’t bleed.  (It becomes that dance of pull back the device, press the button, nothing happens, repeat 10x, change lancet and curse.)  Like it or not, I have to change my lancet regularly or the device becomes useless.

Now I change my lancet once a day.  Every day.  And every time I kill a box of lancets, I feel accomplished because in the last four years, I’ve gone through at least two dozen boxes.

In the 20+ years prior?  Probably the same number of lancet boxes.

 

 

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