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Posts tagged ‘type 1 diabetes’

Diabetes on the Red Carpet … Ish.

For Chris’s Sea of Trees premiere this past weekend at the Cannes Film Festival, diabetes was almost the furthest thing from my mind because we were so damn excited about the event.

Diabetes came into play for a brief moment when I was looking for a dress. I tried to adopt a “dress first, diabetes second” philosophy, picking a dress that felt comfortable and pretty without caring if my insulin pump fit into it. After spending some time looking for and trying on a bunch of dresses (a post I’ll never write, because I made the mistake of looking for formal ball gowns in the same week that girls were shopping for their prom dresses, leaving the ladies that worked at the dress shops very confused about why this older woman was coming in amongst the sea of teenyboppers and leaving me just as confused about my place in this world of women … not my best moments), I settled on a navy blue dress that hit the marks for fancy and comfortable without making me feel like I was trying to be someone I was not. Trouble was, my insulin pump did not fit into the dress easily. Or at all. Instead, it felt once again like I was clomping around with a toaster clipped to me. Which is why I decided to go on injections for the night and not wear my pump. Going MDI meant I needed my CGM data more than ever, though, so I kept my Dexcom sensor on my lower back, underneath some of the lace overlay for the dress, which perfectly masked the subtle bulge of the transmitter. (Hee hee … bulge.)

Thankfully, going back to injections and monitoring via Dexcom receiver wasn’t too tricky because my insulin pens fit easily into the glittery clutch I had for the night, as did a tube of Glucolift. I decided not to carry a glucose meter for the night because it was too bulky. Chris tucked my Dexcom receiver into the inside pocket of his tuxedo (“You turned it to vibrate, right?” “Yes, I promise you won’t go off during your own movie.”) I deliberately ran at the 160 – 180 range so I wouldn’t go so low as to need a snack or so high as to need to dash to the bathroom.

Aside from checking my Dexcom a few times before we arrived at the event, diabetes took a wicked back seat to the whole experience. Instead, we were able to focus on the surreal aspects of the event itself.

Cannes SEA OF TREES red carpet

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on


CSparl on the red carpet

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

After party for SEA OF TREES at the Cannes Film Festival.

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

After a grumbly critical review the day before, it was amazing to watch the filmmakers receive a two and a half minute standing ovation after the screening. I have always felt proud of Chris and I recognize his tremendous talent as a writer (insert all my bias here), but it was so nice to hear from people who felt the same way, both in his industry and in our diabetes community alike. We are very grateful for everyone’s support, and it means the world to me to know our DOC family supports one another in diabetes-related ventures and decidedly non-diabetes adventures.

Thanks for being there on this insanely odd, hard-earned, and exciting journey, you guys. I’m forever grateful.

A Look at Diabetes Blog Week, With Karen!

Karen Graffeo is a talented knitter, devoted cat owner, and tireless advocate for diabetes, and I am so proud to call her a friend.  Six years ago, she launched the first Diabetes Blog Week, an effort that serves to expand the diabetes online community and embrace the beauty of diversity of voices.  Today, Karen is sharing some of the how’s and the why’s of Diabetes Blog Week here on SUM.

Kerri:  Congratulations on the sixth annual Diabetes Blog Week!!  For those who aren’t familiar with what it’s all about, can you shed some light?

Karen:  Thank you, I’m so excited to be doing this a sixth time!  Diabetes Blog Week was inspired by a similar event in the knitting blog community.  There is a set topic each day of the week, and participating bloggers write about that topic on their blog.  There is a list set up for each day and bloggers add the link to their post once they’ve published it.  Then we can all hop around the DOC blogosphere and read the different perspectives on each topic.  And, in the process, we can find some new blogs to read and make some new connections.

Kerri:  Is it tough to come up with topics every year?  Where do you draw your inspiration from?

Karen:  It does get tougher each year to think up fresh and enticing topics.  Every year has seven topics (one for each day) and two “wildcards” that bloggers can use if a certain day’s topic doesn’t inspire them.  So that’s nine topics a year, and we’re in the sixth year – yikes!!  However, in the past few years I’ve been asking bloggers to submit topic ideas and that has been a huge help and inspiration.  And since Diabetes Blog Week is for the community, putting out a call for topics seemed like a great way to get the community even more involved in DblogWeek.

Kerri:  What is your favorite part of Diabetes Blog Week?

Karen:  My favorite part is definitely all of the excitement and enthusiasm the DOC shows.  I remember back in 2010 when I held the first Diabetes Blog Week I wasn’t even sure anyone would sign up.  So I’ve always been very thankful for all of the support over the years and I’m so happy bloggers still are willing to join in.

Kerri:  What is the hardest part of Diabetes Blog Week?

Karen:  That first year, Diabetes Blog Week had 142 participants.  Although it was no small task, I was able to read and comment on almost every post written.  As of last year we had more than 200 participants and it gets harder to leave as many comments as I’d like.  It’s a good problem to have, but I definitely feel disappointed that I can’t find the time to comment on every single Diabetes Blog Week post.

Kerri:   And how can people participate this year? 

Karen:  I have put all of the information (I hope!!) and a sign up form in this year’s Diabetes Blog Week post.  Also, the topics have been posted here so bloggers can check them out and start thinking about what they want to write.  And if anyone has a question I haven’t addressed they can email me at DblogWeek@bittersweetdiabetes.com.

To sign up for Diabetes Blog Week, click on that snazzy little button there (designed by the endlessly talented Mike Lawson) and fill out the quick and easy form!  Diabetes Blog Week is an amazing way to become reacquainted with diabetes blogs you’ve been reading for years and to discover new voices to add to your support team.  Have fun!  Make friends.  Write bunches.

Thank you, Karen, for bringing us all together for a sixth year.  :)

 

Boop Beep Boop.

“Boop beep boop!”

The sound is unmistakable, as it used to ring out from my hip for so many years.  That noise, the sound of a Medtronic insulin pump alerting for whatever reason, used to be my soundtrack before Fur Elise and the “boop boop boop!” of the Animas pump replaced it.

Boop beep boop!”

I was sitting outside of the classroom where my daughter was meeting with the school administrators for her pre-kindergarten screening tests when I heard that familiar noise.  (The tests upon which I will not comment because this whole process is so strange and so involved – whatever happened to reading books and milk cartons and coloring?  In related news, I’ve become an old bird.)

Looking up, I saw a teacher walking down the hallway, casually talking to her colleague with their lunch bags in hand, her fingertips deftly and instinctively pressing the buttons on her insulin pump, administering what I assumed was a lunch bolus.

“Boop beep boop!”

Even though I’ve found so much comfort in the diabetes community and have made lifelong friends who are funny, kind, and also happen to not make their own insulin, I wanted to leap up and say hi to the woman in the elementary school who also wore an insulin pump.  She was here!  In my town!  Randomly!  A PWD (person with diabetes) spotting in-the-wild is always exciting.  Kind of like finding Bigfoot, only with fewer over-the-shoulder glances and more “see a birthday cake!” faces.

But instead, I sat in the folding chair and minded my own business, secretly thrilled once again by the knowledge that it only takes a quiet series of beeps and boops to remind me that I am not alone.

 

Plug It In.

I’m not a good traveler, but I am a good packer. Part of my preparation ritual is to make sure I only bring what I need and that outfits are tried on and coordinated before I go. (Because there was that one time I brought a shirt and forgot pants and that made for a different sort of panic before a presentation.)

Thinking ahead helps me prevent over-packing. (I have made a rule about not checking baggage, ever, if I can help it.) So before I left for a business trip on Thursday afternoon, my house was a brief flurry of coat hangers, dresses, and shoes. I tried on four or five different things before chucking them into my suitcase (who am I kidding – I military roll everything so it fits) and then it was time to get ready to leave the house.

It took me almost an hour to realize that, in my frenetic fashion show, I had my pump clipped to my hip but not connected to my infusion set. It wasn’t until I heard the Dexcom alarm let loose with the HIGH ALARM! that I realized my tubing was wagging like a tail. Disconnected from my body. Leaving me on an unintentional insulin hiatus.

So many variables influence my blood sugars – exercise! Insulin levels! Food! Stress! Exclamation points!

But sometimes it’s as simple as remembering to plug shit in.

Sharps, or “Shaaaahps,” Containers.

In the last few weeks, I’ve taken some device breaks and reverted back to some of my multiple injection (MDI) ways (until skin rashes healed up, bruises started dotting up my skin landscape, and frustration with trying to draw up 1/4 of a unit of Humalog using a syringe tossed me back into DeviceLand).  It was a good break and one I needed, but I was reminded of how many sharps I can accumulate during the course of a week on MDI.

Back when I lived at home with my parents, my mom used an empty detergent bottle to throw my sharps into.  When it was full, she taped it up with duct tape and my dad disposed of it somewhere “official.” (But to be honest, I have no idea where he brought it.  The shed at my childhood home could be filled with used insulin syringes shoved into fleets of Tide bottles, for all I know.)  When I moved out and went to college, I continued the same system only I brought my full sharps containers to our local pharmacy.

These days, I don’t generate a lot of sharps and currently have a few containers that need to be disposed of (tips from Joslin on sharps disposal here), but that’s largely in part due to the fact that I rarely use syringes these days.  Even when I’m on pump vacations, I tend to use insulin pens over orange-capped syringes.  (Did anyone use one of these back in the day?  I loved this thing.  It was like a fingernail clipper for my drug paraphernalia.)  I busted out a “formal” sharps container that I had in storage for the last few years and have been using it for pen needle tips, lancets, etc.

Sharps. Or, if you're from New England: "shaaaaahps."

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

It feels strange and foreign to not be shoving my sharps into a discarded laundry detergent bottle.  I feel like my sharps went all professional.  Like they wear tie clips and have board room lunches. But, at the very least, they are properly contained and will be properly disposed of and that makes me feel like I’m properly PWD’ing.
 

Guest Post: #SpareARose and Symplur.

I’m late with today’s post, but it’s a good one.  :)   This afternoon, Chris Snider of A Consequence of Hypoglycemia has contributed a guest post about Symplur and the Spare a Rose, Save a Child campaign.  It’s an in-depth look at how the stats of the #sparearose hashtag campaign influenced the spread of the message.  This post is an interesting peek at where analytics and community passion line up, and where they don’t.  Thanks, Chris, for offering your insight!

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I started working with the folks at Symplur at the beginning of this year. My objective was to tell stories and bring the patient community further into the conversation around data – specifically the data they are generating through health conversations on Twitter. After the Spare a Rose campaign concluded, I reached out to Kerri to see if I could help shine a light on the 2-week whirlwind using Symplur’s fancy analytics tool, Signals. I was given four questions to try to address.

1. How did the message spread? Did it reach outside of people with “diabetes” in their profile?
2. What kinds of messages resonated on the whole? Calls to donate, stories about why insulin matters, etc?
3. Did people with small reach still have a big impact because of the close knit nature of the DOC?
4. Can the data prove that every voice does matter?

(1.) What the data says: people associating themselves with diabetes in their screen name, user name, or description represented 43.9% (321) of #sparearose participants, but generated 63.5% (5,825,580) of the impressions. What is difficult to report on is how many of these impressions overlap within the community. How many followers do each of the 43.9% have that are associated with diabetes in one form or another? How many impressions from the other 56.1% were made on people living with or associated by diabetes? It’s difficult to truly parse out where the venn diagram sits, but I think it’s safe to say the diabetes community came strong with their effort to spread the word. This does leave me with some bigger questions to consider for 2016: How might we increase the number of people sharing #sparearose that aren’t immediately associated with diabetes? Should that ratio always favor the diabetes community? How might the appeal of Spare a Rose better resonate with people without diabetes?

(2.) I tried to see what kind of activity was generated around tweets featuring the word ‘donate’ and ‘insulin’ as those are the two biggest subjects related to the Spare a Rose campaign. Every tweet including the word donate included a link to sparearose.org or the subsequent donation page. Similarly, 93% of links including the word insulin included a link to one of those two pages. It makes sense, right? If we’re going to ask people to donate, we need to show them where to go. If we’re going to appeal to the life-saving insulin #sparearose provides, we need to include a link to show people where to go. Looking past the percentages, however, reveals something quite curious. There were over twice as many (2.3x) tweets featuring the word insulin as there were the word donate. What would the final fundraising totals look like if more tweets mentioned the fact that one of the goals of #sparearose is to collect donations? Something to think about, perhaps.

One other stat I noticed was that of all the #sparearose tweets, 67% of the ones that were recorded were Retweets. I wonder what this data would show if more communication about #sparearose was original thought rather than rebroadcasting the words of someone else. To be fair, I’m just as guilty of this as the next person. Sometimes someone else does a better job of saying what I wanted to say and rather than repurpose someone else’s thoughts and words, a simple RT is enough to get the point across.

(3.) To address this, I tried to determine what maximum follower count yielded half of the total impressions from the reporting period. And, what maximum follower count yielded half of the tweets. Where is the tipping point in the makeup of participants that best represents how much of an influence a smaller following can generate. My impressions goal was 3,536,645. Tweets was 868.

Of all the people participating in #sparearose on Twitter, participants with 19,150 or fewer followers generated a little over half of the impressions recorded – How many participants have fewer than 19,150 followers? 97%. 19,000 twitter followers isn’t realistic for most of us, so to put all of this in perspective, participants with 1,000 or fewer followers generated 3% of the total impressions recorded. A single tweet from Crystal Bowersox makes a huge difference in terms of exposure.

Of all the people participating in #sparearose on Twitter, participants with 945 or fewer followers sent a little over half of the tweets during the reporting period. So, most of the tweets came from people with less than 945 followers, but they generated less than 3% of the impressions? My thoughts on this lead into the final question.

(4.) Do small voices matter? Unfortunately I can’t report on how many links were clicked, whose tweets generated the most clicks to sparearose.org. Crystal Bowersox understands the value of a vial of insulin, but do her 60,000 followers? But, for someone with 150 followers, how many of them are going to acknowledge and engage with a donation ask? It feels cold making all of this a numbers game, but the numbers fascinate me. Is there a point where you have too many followers to trust that any significant percentage will engage with a fundraising ask? How likely will followers outside of the diabetes community donate? Should we, all of us, try to cultivate a following outside of the diabetes community in addition to the relationships we build up among the pancreatically-challenged? Is it a matter of making the right ask or the right number of asks?

So we’re clear, I don’t think it’s the responsibility of the entire diabetes community to think about the nuts and bolts of how all this works. What matters most is the passion to connect with others and help educate whoever will listen to the reality that a little can mean a lot to a child with diabetes. Thanks to people like Kerri, we can make a difference. Even if the numbers from Symplur may suggest otherwise, believe me when I tell you that every voice does matter. Every one of you reading this, telling your story, paving the way for someone else with diabetes to feel safe enough to join our crazy little group, all of us are making a difference.

Looking Back: Visual Reminders.

Nothing helps remind me more about the importance of being familiar with serving sizes and what they look like than being on the road for a few days.  Meals away from the comfort and familiarity of my kitchen make for some guesswork, and these last few days have shown me that I could use a refresher on serving sizes.  Here’s a look back at a post from 2012 about keeping your eye trained as to how “half a cup” really shapes up.

*   *   *

A deck of cards.  A baseball.  A pair of dice and you only look at one of them. (Sorry for the clumsiness; I think it’s weird to write “A die.” as a sentence.  Looks odd.)  A tennis ball.   A hockey puck.

The things that health-related articles use as “visual cues” for portion sizes and serving sizes makes me wish I was more athletic, because then I’d have a really strong feel for the size of these different balls, etc.  (Sidenote:  Hey. Ever write something you want to immediately delete but then you keep it and just wish your brain was less daft?)  But these visual cue things are helpful for me, because if I don’t take note of just how big “one small apple” really is, it’s easy to lose track of how much I’m eating.  I need to constantly refresh my eyes on serving sizes, which in turn helps me better estimate carbs when I’m SWAG (aka Scientific, Wild-Ass Guessing)’ing it.

(Second sidenote:  The hamburger pictured here looks exactly like a fudge-drizzled chocolate cookie, which is making my brain very confused.)

Which is what I spent part of my morning doing today:  busting out the measuring cups in my house and reminding myself what certain foods look like when properly measured out.  I’m not shooting for serving sizes or anything FDA official.  I needed to do this purely for carb assessment reasons.  What does 35 grams worth of Rice Chex measure out to look like?  How much salad dressing is 10 grams of carbs?  Brain, be reminded of what 28 carbs-worth of banana goodness looks like!!

Birdy thought I was a basketcase this morning, measuring things out and then putting them back.  “No eat banana, Mama?”  “No more cereal and milk, Mama?”  “That chicken is very good, right, Mama?” By the time I started eye-balling the lunch meat and measuring it on our kitchen scale, she threw her hands up in disgust and went to find her Thomas trains.  (Tertiary sidenote:  Spencer, the silver, streamlined diesel train, is the same size as 15 grams worth of banana, dagnabit.)

But now my brain is brought back to reality.  Less guesstimating and more true and proper estimating, which should help me fine-tune my boluses a touch.  Reminders like this are helpful in keeping me from sliding down that slippery slope of eating 18 lb apples and bathtubs full of Golden Grahams.

(Last sidenote:  I’m sorry that only 2/3 of this post made sense.)

 

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