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Tootsie Roll of Doom.

Low blood sugars can sound like stories told ’round the campfire, with great embellishments and drama as to who can tolerate the lowest number without tipping over.

“Low?  I wasn’t just low.  I was so low that my eyes were swimming away from my face and my meter said 52 mg/dL but I still got my own juice.”

“52?  I was 41 mg/dL without any symptoms at all and then my hands fell off so I ate them.”

“Pfffft.  I was 30 mg/dL and eating popcorn and I was coherent enough to eat individual kernels of popped corn until 100 hours passed and I had steadily climbed back up to 115 mg/dL without a rebound high.”

Impressive.

Most of the time, my lows are symptom free and I can function properly.  I feel lucky that, in the last 28 years, there have been more functional hypoglycemic episodes than ones requiring assistance.  I’m glad I can treat my own lows.

But sometimes numbers hit differently.  A blood sugar around 65 mg/dL usually feels a tiny bit off, but nothing too jarring.  No shaky hands, clumsy tongue, loss of peripheral vision stuff going on, mostly just a Dexcom alarm going off, forcing me to take a closer look at my graph and thinking, “Huh.  Time for a snack.”  (This lack of hypo symptoms is what prompted me to look into a continuous glucose monitor in the first place.)

At other times, the 65 mg/dL comes in like a freight train, barreling towards me with symptoms hitting full force, which happened yesterday while I was brushing my teeth.  A waves of confusion washed over me and put a twitch in my hands, making my desired grip onto the bathroom counter hard to come by.  My tongue went numb and I forced myself to spit the toothpaste into the sink, knowing the next mission was more challenging: get downstairs and eat something fast.

The first thing I saw was a giant Tootsie Roll in Birdzone’s Halloween bucket.  (Flashbacks to being a kid growing up with diabetes, where the Halloween bucket was always saved as a “for low blood sugars!” salve but instead was something I dipped into without admitting it, until there were only Almond Joys left.)  Normally, Tootsie Rolls are a candy that repulses me enough to steer me clear, the low symptoms were intensifying and my knees felt wobbly, so I unwrapped the candy and shoved it into my mouth.  And then I learned of a new hypoglycemia symptom that was in play this round:  a confused jaw.

Chewing on that Tootsie Roll candy was a disaster.  It was slightly cold, making it tough to work through regardless, but the massive chewy scope of the thing was too much.  In the fog of a low, I clamped down on the stupid thing and felt a familiar popping sensation.  The Tootsie Roll was working to raise my blood sugar, but in the interim, it had pulled off one of the frigging composites from my tooth.

Once the low had subsided, I called the dentist to fess up and make a fix-it appointment.

“What happened?  Did you bite into an apple or something?” asked the receptionist.

“No, it was actually a Tootsie Roll but …”

“Oh, Halloween candy.  Yeah, we get a lot of calls this time of year for stuff like this.”

And in my head, I was all, “Wait, no it was a low blood sugar and it was THIS BIG and I finally had symptoms – they were rotten – in the 60′s which is why I went for the Halloween candy …”

… but instead, I was all, “Yep.  Tootsie Roll of doom.”

 

#DayOfDiabetes Went a Little Rogue on Me.

I started the day strong, but after hours of a frustrating high blood sugar and seemingly bolusing saline instead of insulin (but it was insulin – I checked), I hit a big NOPE when it came to documenting the end of my #dayofdiabetes. I didn’t want to keep documenting my frustrations, not because I was ashamed of them, but because I was FRUSTRATED, you know?

Even though there isn’t a hashtag for my day today, I’m still here. I’m still doing this diabetes thing. And despite some frustrations, I remain fine.

Chronicle. (See also: #dayofdiabetes)

(Chronicle was a movie from a few years ago that I actually liked very much, even though it god a little crazypants towards the end.  Still, a quality film, IMO.)

But today’s post is not about that movie.  It’s about chronicling a day with a chronic condition.  For Diabetes Awareness Month, I’m taking diabetes awareness to task by documenting the daily duties of life with type 1, from site changes to emotional responses to blood sugar numbers … and all the non-diabetes-yet-still-diabetes crap in between.  A big advocacy “thank you!” to Chris Snider’s #dayofdiabetes campaign, and I think November is a perfect time to pop the bubble of diabetes awareness.  People living with diabetes know what diabetes is like.  Let’s show people who might not understand what a day in the life truly means.

Join in on Twitter using the hashtag #dayofdiabetes and share what strikes you about life with diabetes.  Then share that hashtag with your non-diabetes friends, family, coworkers, and Internet connections because Diabetes Awareness Month should be about educating outside of the DOC (Diabetes Online Community).

Halloween Your FACE.

It’s Halloween!!  You know how I know?  Because overnight, every wall in my house is covered with construction paper jack o’lanterns and there’s a suspicious amount of candy up in this place.

Halloween.  A holiday I really like, because dressing up is fun.  Costumes and candy? I can subscribe to that. And now I’m going to paste in a link to a video that I did a few years ago about Halloween and Diabetes, because I still enjoy the rabbit ears now and again:

This year, we’re trick-or-treating with the Birdzone in our neighborhood (she’s decided to be Officer Birdzone this year, complete with a set of handcuffs that she keeps using to lock the fridge door closed with … not sure what she’s trying to tell me with that).

And that’s it.  Did you think there was a big diabetes-related lesson built into this post?  Nope.  Sometimes it’s just fun to have fun, and diabetes takes a frigging backseat for once.

#WalkWithD: John’s Story.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how I was seeking to learn more about my peers with diabetes, specifically folks with type 2 diabetes.  Living with type 1 diabetes myself, it’s hard to me to “walk a mile in their shoes,” so to speak, when I felt so uninformed about type 2 diabetes in the first place.  A few people left comments on that post, and I’ve been working to bring more of their journey with type 2 diabetes into the forefront, so I can learn from them, and so we can learn as a community. 

I want to know what it’s like to walk with type 2 diabetes, and today, John, a self-proclaimed 67 year old “youngster” and currently living in the southeast Alaska panhandle, is answering a few questions about what life is like for him.

Kerri:  Thanks for taking the time to chat with me today, John.  When were you diagnosed with type 2 diabetes?

John:  I think it was October 18, 2007.

Kerri:  Did you know anything about diabetes before your diagnosis?

John:  Yes a little, I had a cousin, uncle and a niece that had type 1 and even though I was a few years older than my niece we used to play together as children and were quite close.  I was also a babysitter to her when she was young.

Kerri:  How did your diagnosis impact you, physically?  How about emotionally?

John:  I was told to lose some pounds, I was 260 when diagnosed and they wanted me down to 190.  It took me almost a year to get 196 and I found that I couldn’t maintain it and feel comfortable at all, so I let my weight drift back up to about 210 and have remained at that weight ever since.

Emotionally?  I was relieved, I was having some heart problems and it seemed to me that it was getting worse and the doctors couldn’t figure out why.   Then one of the E.R. doctors noticed that every time I showed up in ER that my blood sugar was somewhat elevated.  That led to an A1c, which was off the chart.

Kerri:  Now that you are a few years into your diabetes journey, what have you learned along the way?

John:  Quite a lot about the disease, I at first researched Type 2 only and then I read an article about how diabetes progresses in the body if left unchecked and I thought at first that it was an article about Type 1, but then as I reread the article again I realized that it did not make any difference how the diagnoses was made it was the same disease.  The only difference was in how we each contracted it.  Right now, it is known that in the PWD’s T1, the immune system attacks the insulin producing cells of the pancreas  and destroys them, and, PWD’s T2’s there are several ways that the same cells are either destroyed or made to under-perform.  The end result is a disease called diabetes.  So I then stopped looking at it as the type of diabetes someone had and started to notice how they were treating their diabetes, so that I may be able to treat mine better.

Kerri:  What makes you want to tell people about your diabetes journey?  Why do you think it’s important for people with all kinds of diabetes to share their stories?

John:  My story is going to be similar to someone out there and just maybe that person needs to know that they are not alone.  The more people that stop being afraid of this disease and start letting people know that they have this disease the more that diabetes will be recognized as a viable threat to their own health.

Kerri:  What do you want people to know about life with type 2 diabetes?

John:  What I want everyone to realize is that I don’t have “type 2 diabetes” but that I do have “diabetes” and the way it came about is type 2(reason unknown).  I treat my diabetes just the same as many thousands of other diabetics and it does not make one bit of difference what type it is.  Being a certain type is good for person to person conversations in a give and take on how we treat our own version of diabetes and it’s good that our doctors know, but beyond that it’s useless.  Living with diabetes is not easy, it takes a lot of time that I would like to be doing other things.  It often times scares the heck out of me and it is not a set in stone science, it at times does things that seems to defy all reason and it will bite you if you don’t pay attention.  It never stops and that is the worst one, it is there all the time, no letup.  But with knowledge and the right tools it can be managed and quite well, just not controlled, at least not by me.

To every negative there should be a positive, my positive is that I am in better general health than almost all of my friends that don’t have diabetes, you see, I now take the time to take care of myself, eat right, exercise.  Before I was diagnosed with diabetes I never seemed to have the time to do those things.

Thank you so much for sharing, John, and I’m looking forward to sharing more perspectives from my type 2 peers in the coming weeks. 

If you are living with diabetes of any kind, please raise your voice.  Your story matters!  #walkwithd

Looking Back: Ironmom.

This morning, Birdy and I were talking about Halloween and our upcoming costume opportunities.  “You can be Batman, mom.  Just wear a black shirt and the mask and be helpful.”  “Sure, and I can stick my pump on my BatBelt?”  She laughed.  “Or you could put it in  your shirt and be Ironman.” 

Which reminded me of this post.  So I’m re-posting it, because being Ironmom isn’t too shabby.

*   *   *

“I really like Ironman.  And Superman.  And Spiderman.”  She paused.  “But not the Hulk, because he smashes things.  Why he smashes things?”

“He gets angry and that anger makes him turn into the giant green guy, and he smashes.”

My daughter, thanks to her father’s affinity for all-things superhero, has developed a taste for the slate of superheros and supervillains.  She rocks her Superman t-shirt at school, and her Batman pajamas at home with both encouraging regularity and vigor.  But that’s the nature of her being three years old – she is learning so much every day, taking in her surroundings and chewing on them until they make sense for her.

Part of what she’s hyper-fixated on, in addition to superheroes, is the location of  my Dexcom and insulin pump.  At least once a day, she asks me to show her my devices.

“Where is your Dexcom, mawm?” she asks me, patting my leg knowingly.

“Right here, on my right leg.”

“And your pump is right here, right?”  she asks, pressing her finger against the screen.

“Exactly.”

The other day, Birdy was troubled because she couldn’t find my insulin pump in the dress I was wearing.  “Mom, where is your pump?”

“It’s in the front of my dress, here,” I said, pointing to where the pump was clipped to my bra (disco boob style).

She contemplated this for a minute, and I could see the laundry list of information she’s been collecting in the last few weeks rolling around in the dryer in her head.

“You’re like Ironman, mawm.”

“Ironmom?”

She laughed that wild, unfettered laugh of a toddler who just learned what “a joke” is.

“Yeah!  Ironmom!  You made a joke.”

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