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Posts tagged ‘diabetes’

Stream of Consciousness.

Time for a bullet list of purged thoughts, brought to you by the bottom of my coffee pot.

  • It’s not snowing.  I don’t usually have a rage response to winter, but this one has been more than we could properly manage.  (Like when our snow shovel broke under the weight of the drift we were shoveling through.  Or when our snow blower ran out of gas and the gas was in the shed out back and we couldn’t get to the shed because the show was up past our hips.  #fuckyousnow and I mean it.)  So for it to be #notsnowing and #melting is a good thing.
  • Get these hashtags off my blog. #nottwitter
  • For a solid five year period, I did not lose a single pair of gloves.  If one fell out of the car when I opened the door, I saw it immediately.  If I dropped one, it always managed to fall into my bag and not end up lost forever.  Gloves were among the most lose-able things in my wardrobe and yet they always managed to stay paired up and on hand (literally).  But this year, something happened to my glove mojo and I’ve lost four pairs this winter alone.  I don’t know how to recover my good glove karma.
  • I have bought the same pair of moonstone stud earrings a dozen different times, and yet I still only have two singular earrings.  It’s unnerving.  Do these cheap little earrings go where the gloves go?
  • This weekend, I’ll be at the Diabetes UnConference in Las Vegas, where there isn’t any snow and there are many PWD on tap to attend.  I’m looking forward to making new friends, seeing old ones, and bolusing for copious amounts of iced coffee.
  • Way to GO, mySugr!!!
  • Does emotional stress spike up your blood sugar?  Caroline dives in to find out.  (But the answer is yes.  A firm and confidence yes.)
  • Did you guys see that the Spare a Rose totals have been boosted, thanks to a donation program from Asante426 lives saved, thanks to all of you.
  • Thanks to #dblogcheck day, I found some gluten-free lemon bars on this blog.  And now I love this blog.
  • At the Rhode Island JDRF TypOneNation event last weekend, I heard about a new sort of barrier tape to put underneath my Dexcom sensors to help mitigate the wicked rash.  It’s called Mepitac tape and I bought my first roll off of Amazon this morning.  I have no idea if it will work better/worse than the J&J Toughpads I have been using for the last three years, but I’ll try anything to keep the itch at bay.  Will report back after I give it a go.
  • Ripped from DHF’s site:  “The Diabetes Hands Foundation is happy and excited to offer scholarships to diabetes conferences as a part of the Diabetes Advocates program. We offer these scholarships to help get advocates to the major conferences in the US so the patient voice is present.”  You can find out more about the scholarships here, and then you should APPLY because your voice MATTERS.  All caps and such.
  • My friend Jenni Prokopy (the ChronicBabe) kicks ass, and I want her to continue to kick ass.  Check out her kick(ass)starter here.
  • I keep circling back to this David Sedaris essay about his FitBit because I am in a hardcore week of competition with an equally-competitive friend on FitBit, and I’m afraid I may wear holes in the soles of my soul in efforts to win.
  • But as I write this, I’m already itching to get up and clock a few miles on the treadmill in an attempt to gain some ground before traveling this afternoon.
  • In related news, I am relentlessly competitive.
  • And with that, I need to go run.
  • While I’m gone, the cats will guard the door like little, furry sentinels.


Guards.

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

 

 

It’s a Good Tune.

“BEEEEP … BEEEEP… BEEEEP!”

“Mom, your Dexcom is making noise,” my daughter says casually, as we’re kicking the soccer ball around in the basement (because we’ll never, ever go outside again because snow).

“It is. Hang on a second,” I told her. A click shows that my blood sugar is over my high threshold, with a few yellow dots taking up residence on my graph. I’m not totally worried, though, because a check of my pump reveals some insulin still on board. I decide to let things play out and see where I land a bit later.

“I’m fine, kiddo. Let’s keep playing.”

The Dexcom has been part of my daughter’s life for as long as she can remember. When she was very small and figuring out her letters for the first time, I remember her running a tiny fingertip along the bottom of my receiver – “D-E-X-C-O-M spells … whaasat spell, Mama?”

“Dexcom. That’s the name of the machine.”

(Unlike most kids, my daughter’s list of first words included “pump,” “Dexcom,” and “diabeedles.” Maybe she’ll grow up to be a doctor? At the very least, this knowledge base has given her a leg-up on winning a few topic-specific spelling bees.)

As Birdy grew older, she started to understand some of the information that different diabetes devices provided. We’ve talked a little bit about how three digit numbers on my glucose meter that begin with “2” most often require me to take some insulin from my pump (same goes for the ones that begin with “3,” only those also come with some curse words), and how when the Dexcom makes an alarm sound, I need to check it and take some action.

“But that alarm – the BEEEEP … BEEEEP… BEEEEP! one – is one we can ignore, right Mom?”

“Ignore?”

“Yeah. When it goes BEEEEP … BEEEEP… BEEEEP, you don’t always look at it. But when it goes like this,” she raises her hands up in front of herself, like she’s sneaking up on something, “BeepBeepBeep really fast, then you look right away and get some glucose tabs.”

Funny how much she notices, how much of my diabetes self-care ritual has become a natural part of our time together.

“Kind of. The long beeps mean my blood sugar might be higher, but it’s not an emergency. The short beeps mean I have low blood sugar, and I need to get something to eat so it doesn’t become a big deal. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.”

The sounds of the low and high alarms ringing out from my Dexcom receiver have become familiar, like a subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) soundtrack for my diabetes life, but I didn’t realize until recently that they are also sounds that remind my daughter of her mother.

The other morning, I heard Birdy walking into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and she was humming a little tune to herself, one that I recognized.

“Hey you. Are you singing a song?”

“Yeah. It’s the Dexcom beep song. It’s a good tune.” She grinned at me, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

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.

Cutting Back on Artificial Sweeteners.

My sweet tooth is completely jacked up.

Bypassing the dessert table isn’t a tough choice.  I can skip the brownies and pie since the Great Palette Change of 2010 (when I was pregnant and my body decided that chocolate was gross and seafood was suddenly on the approved list) and now that I’ve been off the gluten stuff since August of last year, avoiding sweet treats has been a no-brainer (because if I have gluten, my body becomes a vessel of extreme bloat – no effing thank you).

But oh holy cow do I love coffee, and the amount of sweetener I would add to a cup of coffee was abysmal.

I think my taste buds ended up a little warped as a result of drinking diet soda when I was a kid.  After my diabetes diagnosis in 1986, Equal replaced sugar in my house, and the sweet power of Equal is eleven billion times sweeter than regular sugar.  (Not entirely true – 160-220 times sweeter than sugar seems to be the information I found online.  Correct me if I’m wrong, please?)  Convincing my tongue that less sweet is sweet enough has taken some time.

Over the last few months, I’ve been actively cutting back the amount of artificial sweetener I’m cramming into my coffee cup.  At one point, I was using three Splenda in one iced coffee, and for me that felt like way too much.  So, week by week, I tried to use less.  The first few days it was two and a half packets, in an attempt to show my tastebuds that less is more.  After a few weeks, I had cut back to one packet.  (And one packet helped, because then I felt like I could let go of that matchy-matchy OCD thing.)


And now I’m using half of a packet, or sometimes none at all (depending on how nice the coffee/milk combo is).  My goal is to make “none” the new standard.

It took some time to adjust to the lack of sweet.  My body craved that cloyingly sweet taste bud burst, but weaning was the way to go for me because cutting out sweetener entirely and all at once would have been an exercise in futility.  I’m not there yet, but working to make this a “habit of less” because I’m ready to ditch sweetener as much as possible.

It’s hard, though.  Sometimes I just want to rub the contents of a packet of Truvia on my gums.  (Too much?)

Have you ever worked to ditch a habit?  How did you do it?  I think the process of weaning is BORING and if there are ways to trick my mouth into not caring about sweetener, I’d love a tip or two.

 

Chocolate Chip and Heath Bar Cookies OMG.

I can’t cook, but I can bake.  (Which is a bit ironic, because the things I create are best avoided, for my own, personal blood sugar reasons.  /digression)  And for our annual holiday dessert party, I worked with a cookie recipe from the How Can It Be Gluten Free Cookbook to bake up some delicious treats.

Here’s the low-down on how Birdy and I baked these up:

ingredients

1 3/4 cups Bob’s Red Mill gluten-free baking flour
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp xanathan gum
1/2 tsp salt
10 tablespoons salted butter, melted
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
2 tablespoons whole milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup chocolate chips
3/4 cup Heath Bar bits

The recipe in the How Can It Be Gluten Free Cookbook is pretty spot on, but we tweak it just a little bit.  The ingredients in the book call for unsalted butter, etc. but Birdzone and I made some changes based on preference.  (We like cookies that are chewy and soft, and this chart serves as a gorgeous guide.)

First, we combined the flour, baking soda, xanathan gum (the magic ingredient!), and salt together in one bowl.  Then we whisked together the melted butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar in another bowl, mixing until it was smooth.  To the butter, etc bowl we then added the egg, milk, and vanilla and beat the crap out of that mixture with a whisk until it was one smooth mixture.  Then we added the flour mixture to the butter bowl (Does this make sense?  Refer to the original recipe for accurate info.) with the intention of mixing it together slowly, but when Birdy helps, she dumps the whole bowl in at once, so it all went in at once.  (Oh my, run on sentence.)

Once the bowls are combined, we add in the chocolate chips and the Heath bar bits.  Then the dough sits, tightly covered, for 30 minutes.  Only we left ours for 45 minutes, which made it even easier to work with.  (I haven’t tried refrigerating the dough overnight, but that’s next on my list.)

After 30 – 45 minutes, preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  The dough is ready to shape into tablespoon’ed balls (that sounds perverse, sorry) and spaced out on the cookie sheet.  Bake the cookies for about 12 minutes, or until the edges are golden and the middles don’t seem sludgy or weird.

The final product is a chewy, delicious cookie that doesn’t have any gluten in it and will make everything other than your blood sugars happy.  (The photo up at the top of this post is of our first attempt at these cookies, without Heath Bar and without extra butter or salt.  They were good, but not nearly as good as the ones we didn’t snap pictures of … mostly because the cookies didn’t last long enough to photograph.  They were that good.)

Happy baking and for Pete’s sake, BOLUS.

 

Diabetes Month, Diabetes Year.

Diabetes Awareness Month is almost over, closing out on November 30th.  Throughout the month, I’ve watched some really inspiring efforts take flight to raise awareness for diabetes, including the Project Blue November campaign.  Project Blue November has been a big part of my Facebook feed throughout the month, showcasing photos of advocates and celebrities alike sporting their blue circle pin.

My blue circle pin is something I wear every time I’m out in public.  I have one that I take on-and-off whatever jacket I’m wearing and a one permanently stuck on the bookbag I use when I’m traveling.


Diabetes Month is almost over, but I wear my awareness everywhere I travel. #PWDpride. Also, #rhodypride.

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

I don’t spend the majority of my days on a diabetes advocacy soapbox, but having that pin on me at all times makes me feel like I’m wearing a teeny Bat-Signal of advocacy.  It sends out a signal that I love someone (many someones) with diabetes.  It’s a beacon for broken islets.  It’s a sign that I care about the community as a whole.

Every month is diabetes month when you live with it.  This disease is every day, every month, all year long without respite.  But it’s not a “woe is me” headgame.  It’s more a “keep going; life is worth the effort” sort of mentality.

This month has been more scattered than usual, and I felt like I kind of phoned it in for diabetes month.  My focus was on other things, other people, other events and honestly?  That break felt good.  I think when the focus is “supposed to be diabetes,” I lose steam.  (File it under “Don’t Tell Me What To Do,” which might be the biggest file in my mental cabinet.)  Advocacy has to feel right, and natural, and not forced for me.  Finding my footing sometimes requires a few weeks of mental quiet.

I’ll keep my pin on.  And when I’m ready to raise my voice again, I’ll do just that.  In the meantime, I need to feel comfortable with whatever level of storytelling and sharing fits my need, regardless of the month or awareness initiative.

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.”

 

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