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Posts from the ‘Insulin’ Category

Spare a Minute for Spare a Rose?

The Spare a Rose campaign is on tap again for February 2016, and time is marching on at a very quick clip.

Now is the perfect time to start thinking about your involvement in the 2016 campaign, and how your workplace can get involved.  Have you seen the Spare a Rose In My Office site?  You’ll find some tips on making Spare a Rose a company-wide effort.  (Hey Diabetes Companies … I’m looking at you.)

Media campaigns are already thinking about their February outreach efforts, so now is also a great time to connect with your local diabetes organization or media outlet, asking them to support people with diabetes in developing countries.

We’re in this together.  And we can use Diabetes Month as our catalyst for coming together to support our own.

To reiterate, from last year’s campaign,

“From February 1 – 14, the diabetes online community is hosting our annual Spare A Rose campaign.  You remember that one, right?  The one where you send eleven roses instead of twelve on Valentine’s Day, taking the value of that saved rose (averaged out to $5) and donating that to the International Diabetes Federation’s Life for a Child program, which provides life-saving insulin and resources for children with diabetes in developing countries.

We need you.

Yes, you.

You’re part of this, you know.  If you’re reading these words, or any words written by a person touched by diabetes, you are touched by diabetes.  Maybe you’re the parent of a child with diabetes.  Maybe you’re an app developer looking to connect with the diabetes community.  Maybe you run a magazine that hosts health-related articles.  Maybe you’re a PR company that hopes to influence the diabetes community.  Maybe you’re a representative from a diabetes company, or a teacher who has a student with diabetes in their class, or a researcher who studies this disease.

We need you to help amplify the Spare a Rose message.  You can donate to the charity, share the Spare A Rose link with your friends and colleagues, and truly take this initiative, this passion – and our global community -  to a powerful new level.

If you’ve emailed a diabetes advocate, asking them to share your latest press release or to engage in your survey, please spare a rose.

If you work in the diabetes industry and you leave diabetes in your office when you go home at night, remember that people with diabetes don’t ever leave diabetes behind.  And that many people with diabetes struggle to gain access to the drug that keeps them alive.  Considering bringing this campaign to your office.  Please spare a rose.

If you are touched by diabetes in any way – the partner of, the friend of, the coworker of, the child of, the parent of, the neighbor of a person with diabetes – please spare a rose.

If you are part of the greater patient community, I’m asking you to walk with the diabetes community for two weeks and help us make a difference in the life of a child.  With your raised voices, we make a greater difference.  Please spare a rose.

This is where we shine, you guys; where we take care of our own.  Where we can take our collective power, not as people with picky pancreases but instead as people with full and grateful hearts.  Show your love for this community on Valentine’s Day by sending one less rose to a loved one and instead providing life for a child.

Flowers die.  Children shouldn’t.

Please spare a rose.

And please spread the word!”

Bionic Pancreas Update and Call to Action.

A few weeks ago, I met with Ed Damiano and we spent an afternoon talking about recent developments in the bionic pancreas program and what’s up next.

“Here’s our new device,” he said, placing the iLet on his desk, inadvertently putting it right next to his cell phone, which didn’t look much bigger/thicker by comparison.  (I asked for a quarter for comparison, because otherwise this thing could look as small as a whisper, or as big as a toaster, depending on how you feel about devices that day.)

“It’s pretty.  In that device sort of way.  So this is the single device, right?  No more two pumps, one CGM receiver, etc?”

“Yes.  We have two different cartridges in this single device – one for insulin, one for glucagon – that will absolutely not fit in the wrong way.  You can’t make a mistake; there’s no cross-channeling.  The cartridges are already filled, so they aren’t dealing with air bubbles.  There’s no LCD in this device, as that contributes to the bulk, and the e-ink screen [similar to that of an Amazon Kindle] has good contrast and good resolution.  It also has capacitive touch.”

I’ve seen the older device in action at Clara Barton Camp last summer.  It was amazing to hear what little kids thought about wearing three different devices.  But one device should be easier to tolerate, especially when your blood glucose is in range as a result.  So what’s the next step?  How does this thing go from on your desk to on my hip?”

“The iLet exists because of donations from people who believe in this project.  We want to build the consumable parts of this within the next nine months – that’s the infusion sets, tubing, and caps.  We’re on track to do that if we can get the money raised throughout the end of this year.  1.5 million is our 2015 goal.  The next big goal is to test in clinical trials by the last quarter 2016.”

“Tell me more about the clinical trials?”

“Trials will take place in four different sites, out-patient study that’s several weeks long.  It’s a bridging study that goes from the iPhone-based system to the iLet – helps pave the path final pivotal trial.  The pivotal trial takes us straight to FDA submission.  Each study substantiates and builds confidence between investigators and agencies.”

As a person with diabetes, it’s weird to be reminded of many hands are involved in allowing access to technology development and release into the wild.  And how much money is required.

“Can you show me how far we’ve come?  I saw the new iLet device at Friends for Life this summer, but some perspective would be awesome.  What did the first iteration look like?”

Ed’s team kindly dug back into the archives for this photo, which shows the old laptop-based system attached to a study participant.  (And for another old-school take, you can read Abby’s experience with the clinical trials here and here.)

From a team and a laptop and tubes and wires to a single device.  This is the kind of progress that excites me, because it’s happening NOW and the results have already changed lives.  After close to thirty years with diabetes, I’ve seen progress that has made insulin delivery easier and glucose monitoring easier, but the bionic pancreas is a whole new and astounding shift towards life with diabetes.

“And once it’s all said and done, there will be a device similar in look and feel to what I’m using now, only it will be a closed loop.  Which means the pump and the sensor talk to one another, and work with one another independent of my interaction.  Which means I don’t have to think about diabetes nearly as much.  Maybe not much at all,” I said to Chris, all in one breath, when I got home.  “I’m excited.  This is exciting.  I haven’t been this excited in a long, long time about diabetes.”

I believe that the bionic pancreas technology will make my diabetes less of an intrusion, ripping the dangling preposition “with diabetes” off of my life.

To learn more about the bionic pancreas program, please visit the website.  And if you believe in this mission, please consider making a donation to the project.


Spare a Rose: 2015 Results.

This year, the total raised for IDF’s Life for a Child program through the Spare a Rose, Save a Child campaign was $24,229.

We aimed to raise money and awareness for kids in developing countries who are without resources and insulin, and we raised money.  And awareness.  For the third year running, the diabetes community as a whole pledged their time, money, and outreach to touch the lives of people we’ll never meet but who have a chance to thrive based on our willingness to give.

If that’s not inspiring, I’m not sure what is.

In these beautiful images created by Mike Lawson from Diabetes Hands Foundation, you can see how far that money goes.

[More on the Spare a Rose 2015 results here]

Thank you, each and every one of you, for your support for Spare a Rose.  Your blog posts, Tweets, emails to friends and family, you reaching into your own pocket to share just a little so that others can continue to live … every little thing you do, matters and resonates.  Spare a Rose has closed out for 2015, but the influence of our collective contribution will last a lifetime.  And will provide a lifetime.

Our global community thrives and continues to inspire, thanks to all of you.


Looking Back: Humalog Christmas Lights.

What says “holiday festivities” like insulin bottles fashioned into Christmas lights?  (You’re right – gingerbread cookies would be a little more ho, ho, ho, but stick with me.)  In anticipation of the coming holidays, I’m looking back at a post from two Februaries ago, which went live on Diabetes Art Day but is holiday-relevant, so let’s roll. 

For my arty attempt, I used insulin bottles as my “medium.”  Someone had mentioned you could make Christmas lights out of empty insulin bottles, so i wanted to take a stab at it.  (Hang on … there are even more horrible phrasing moments coming.)

The beginning of this hand-cramping mess.

All I needed:

  • Empty insulin bottles
  • A good, long screw
  • Christmas lights
  • Patience

Okay, so first off, you need to drain all the insulin from the bottle.  I’ve been collecting these bottles for the last few months, so I had some spares that I had injected every last unit of.

To get the white rubber stopper out of the bottle without ruining the cap, insert the sharp end of a two inch long screw into the bottle stopper and push it through.  Then, as you pull it back out, the stopped will start to pull through the top of the bottle.  You’ll need to grab the stopper with your fingers and shimmy it out, which sounds nice and easy, but it made my fingers cramp.  Those stoppers are slippery!

Once the rubber stoppers are out, you shove the light bulb into the top of the bottle and then display as you see fit.  I saw fit to stick them on this big metal tree thing we have on one of our walls.  They look festive, in that “your pancreas is busted” sort of way.

Happy Diabetes Art Day!!

Viola!  (Pronounced “vee-ooh-hahn-geespee.”)  You have insulin bottle lights.  Which means your holidays may smell like bandaids now.

When Good Insulin Goes BAD.

Ninety percent of the time, my high blood sugar has an identifiable reason, and there’s a cluster of common causes.  Did I under-estimate the carbs in a snack and therefore under-bolus?  Did I over-treat a low blood sugar?  Did I eat without bolusing at all (it happens)?  Is there a lot of stress floating around that I’m responding to?

Most of the time, those questions cover the why.  Once in a while, my highs are for rogue reasons, like an air bubble in my pump tubing.  Or when I eat something carb-heavy right after an insulin pump site change (it’s like that first bolus doesn’t “catch” somehow).  Or I forgot to reconnect my pump.  Or if the cat bites through my pump tubing.

But rarely, if ever, is one of my high blood sugars the result of bad insulin.

Except it totally happened last week, when two days of bullshit high numbers had me mitigating every possible variable … other than swapping out the insulin itself.  (And clearly I’m stubborn and/or in denial about the quality of my insulin’s influence on my blood sugars?)  I rage-bolused.  I exercised.  I low-carbed the eff out of an entire day.  I did a site change at midnight to take a bite out of the highs.  Nothing.  The downward-sloping arrow on my Dexcom graph had gone on hiatus.

(Always a punched-in-the-gut feeling to see the word HIGH on a Dexcom graph, accompanied by an up arrow.)

But ditching the bottle of insulin entirely and swapping in a new Humalog vial?  That did the trick in a big way.  For once, it was the insulin.  Next time, it will surely be the cat.

Changing the Set.

Changing out an insulin pump infusion set is a methodical moment for me. I do things in the same order almost every time, with the same mildly frenetic mindset.

  • Remove old set from my body so I can enjoy the “connected to nothing” feeling for as long as possible.
  • Take out a new infusion set and new reservoir.
  • Ferret out the open bottle of insulin from wherever I’ve stashed it last in the bathroom.  (Usually it’s in the medicine cabinet, but during the hotter months of summer, I tend to keep it in our bedroom, where it’s cooler.)
  • Line the insulin set, reservoir, and bottle up on the counter.
  • Unscrew the reservoir cap and remove the old infusion set and reservoir from the pump.  Throw the tangle of tubing into the garbage, making sure said tangle doesn’t dangle over the edge of the garbage can because otherwise Loopy and Siah will find it and drag it all over the house.
  • Open the packaging for the reservoir and take out all the little parts (except that one frigging thing that I don’t know what it’s for and I usually throw it right into the garbage – see below):

  • Rewind the pump.
  • This is the point where I mentally set some kind of timer, challenging myself to race against the time it takes for the pump to rewind.  While the pump is whirring, I rush to fill up the reservoir and connect it to the tubing.  I do this every, single time.  It’s as satisfyingly ritualistic as shaking the bottle of test strips before I check my blood sugar.
  • Thread the tubing through the battery cap and connect the luer lock, then insert the cartridge into the pump.
  • Load the new cartridge.
  • Prime the cartridge, trying to stop the prime before more than a single drop of insulin escapes from the needle in the infusion set.
  • Hold the tubing up to the light and inspect it for bubbles.
  • After the pump is primed, again the mental timer is set.  This time, the challenge is to unpeel the sticky backing from the infusion set and find a place on my body that’s suitable for insertion before the screen on my pump goes blank from inactivity.
  • Insert the new infusion set, prime the cannula (sort of holding my breath while it primes because I’m never certain that the first introduction of insulin won’t burn under my skin).
  • Tuck the tubing out of sight and clip the pump to my clothes.
  • Fin.  (As in “the end.”  There’s no marine life actively involved in this process.)

This process takes less than two minutes to complete, but if it’s interrupted in any way, I’m thrown so far off course that it takes me five minutes to recover.  The method of this madness is that it’s one, fluid mental movement and any upset to the process makes my brain disengage to seek the comfort of something shiny.

It’s an intricate process involving several steps, precision handling, and the safe housing a powerful drug.  And if I have to change the battery at the same time …


Pre-Bolusing for Snacks.

“Do you pre-bolus for your meals?”

“I do.”  (I was happy to answer this question because I actually do pre-bolus.  Pre-bolusing is my A1C’s saving grace.)

“Okay, that’s great.”  She made a few notes in my chart.  “How about for snacks?  Do you pre-bolus for those?”

“I … um, nope.  I am horrible at pre-bolusing for snacks.”

Unfortunately, hat is completely and utterly true.

Meals are easier to pre-bolus for because there’s time involved in making them.  If I know I’m cooking chicken and green beans for dinner, I have 25 – 30 minutes to let that bolus sink in before the meal is even ready.  Going out to eat at restaurants is easy, too, because I usually have an idea of what I’d like to eat, so I’ll bolus for the meal once we are seated at the table.  (Pre-bolusing backfires at times, too, but as long as I’m not in the middle of the woods, I’ll take the risk.)  A meal feels like an event, and therefore easier to accommodate.

Snacks feel like an accident.  An unplanned moment.  I don’t take an apple out of the basket and bite into it in a premeditated fashion, but more like a fluid movement without any thought involved.  (A run-by fruiting by any other name …)  It’s not until I’m done with a snack – apple, yogurt, nuts, protein bar … cupcake? – that I realize I haven’t taken any insulin to cover the carbs.  My post-snackial blood sugars aren’t grateful for the misstep.

This would not be a big deal if I wasn’t such a grazer, but when 50% of my caloric intake throughout the day is on a whim, pre-bolusing for snacks matters.  My A1C is currently in my range (under 7%) but I know if I can remember even half the time to pre-bolus for snacks, I bet my standard deviation will tighten up and blah blah blah other numbers as well.

Little, conscious changes will hopefully become habit.



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