I am completely overwhelmed. When I read the responses to my plea from my last post, I was bowled over by the love and compassion.
I have friends checking up on us right and left, and I can’t tell you how good it feels to know that so many angels got my back.
I finally have an update about J.
He didn’t call yesterday, so my husband ventured out to camp to check up on him today.
He found him huddled in a large tent area playing games with his friends. He was elated to see Ryan, apparently because it broke some of the monotony.
J says they have been imprisoned for the past few days. They haven’t been able to do any of the planned activities because of the crazy rain. He says they have been completely bored.
:(
Ryan asked if he wanted to go home, and he said, “Yes, but I’m not going to. If it were because I was having problems with my sugars, then it would be ok. But it doesn’t seem fair just to leave because I am bored.”
Hello awesomeness.
Speaking of numbers…
Ryan says that his numbers have been PHENOMENAL! He actually used the word phenomenal over and over again. He said there were a couple lows…one 55 on the first day, one in the seventies and one in the eighties, but otherwise every gosh dang number has been in the 100’s. He has been checking his BG AT LEAST 5 times a day, and is on track to earn that 50 bucks I promised him.
Could it be that he is just so much better than me at taking care of his body?
Or do his numbers show that it is a proven fact that prayer works?
I have no doubt that his success, although greatly attributed to his amazing self, also have something to do with the prayers and good thoughts that YOU, my friends, have sent my way.
He will be home tomorrow. I’m going to make it a point to sleep like a rock tonight. Not only for me, but for J too. He deserves a mom that can trust him after he has put in the hard work. I trust that he will continue to take good care of himself until tomorrow. I’m talking the talk, and now it’s time to walk the walk. I’m officially done worrying about 6th grade camp.
I’m not done over reacting and worrying all together…not by a long shot. But I feel confident that J’s got this.
(((BIG*FAT*DEEP*BREATH)))
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Calling All Prayers.
Some of you who know me, know that there have been a few times that J has gone away over night this year, and I kinda freaked out about it. Some of those times in particular, I did a really GREAT job of pretending I was fine…but inside my gut was jello waiting for my guy to get home safe. I’ve done a lot of internal freaking out this year..A LOT.
Those times have NOTHING on today.
Because I’m WAY PAST freaking out people. I am miles past freaking out…freaking out is a kiddie ride at the fair right now…a total cake walk…
Where I am right now is not pretty.
I left J in a downpour of rain, standing in 3 inches of mud...at six grade camp. 45 minutes away.
Six grade camp, that is 45 minutes away that lasts FOUR DAYS.
I think I’ve covered all my bases.
I have his monitor clipped to his belt loop.
I have snacks everywhere…of which I hope no bears come into his cabin to eat…his cabin that has no windows…
I have fast acting sugar in his pocket.
I have an alarm clock for the councilor that is sleeping in his “cabin.” So he can do a 2:00am check.
I promised his friends some kind of reward if they reminded him to check, at which time 2 of his friends set their alarms for 2:00am.
I have extra everything packed, including batteries in case his pump battery goes low.
I have bribed J to check his sugar 5x a day…for if he does, he gets 50 bucks.
I have everything covered…except my peace of mind.
I left him there, and I lost it. I cried all the way home…I sit here a raccoon.
(Hello! Can you say, "Drama Queen.")
That is where you come in…
I need a favor. A real honest to gosh favor.
If you are the praying type…and I know most of us spend A LOT of time on our knees…so if you are the kind of person who prays…
Please, could you say a prayer for J?
Pray that he remembers to check…that he will feel his lows…that he will be safe. And maybe throw in a little peace of mind for me?
I’m asking because know that prayer works. Our prayers are heard! So please…can you take just a minute to say a little prayer for me?
And if you aren’t the praying type…good thoughts would help too. I’ll gratefully accept whatever you send our way.
Thanks guys. I know I'm being a complete dopus about all this…I just know that right now I can’t do this on my own. I need a little extra help from my guardian angels on this one.
Lucky for me…I have a bunch of angels that read my blog.
Those times have NOTHING on today.
Because I’m WAY PAST freaking out people. I am miles past freaking out…freaking out is a kiddie ride at the fair right now…a total cake walk…
Where I am right now is not pretty.
I left J in a downpour of rain, standing in 3 inches of mud...at six grade camp. 45 minutes away.
Six grade camp, that is 45 minutes away that lasts FOUR DAYS.
I think I’ve covered all my bases.
I have his monitor clipped to his belt loop.
I have snacks everywhere…of which I hope no bears come into his cabin to eat…his cabin that has no windows…
I have fast acting sugar in his pocket.
I have an alarm clock for the councilor that is sleeping in his “cabin.” So he can do a 2:00am check.
I promised his friends some kind of reward if they reminded him to check, at which time 2 of his friends set their alarms for 2:00am.
I have extra everything packed, including batteries in case his pump battery goes low.
I have bribed J to check his sugar 5x a day…for if he does, he gets 50 bucks.
I have everything covered…except my peace of mind.
I left him there, and I lost it. I cried all the way home…I sit here a raccoon.
(Hello! Can you say, "Drama Queen.")
That is where you come in…
I need a favor. A real honest to gosh favor.
If you are the praying type…and I know most of us spend A LOT of time on our knees…so if you are the kind of person who prays…
Please, could you say a prayer for J?
Pray that he remembers to check…that he will feel his lows…that he will be safe. And maybe throw in a little peace of mind for me?
I’m asking because know that prayer works. Our prayers are heard! So please…can you take just a minute to say a little prayer for me?
And if you aren’t the praying type…good thoughts would help too. I’ll gratefully accept whatever you send our way.
Thanks guys. I know I'm being a complete dopus about all this…I just know that right now I can’t do this on my own. I need a little extra help from my guardian angels on this one.
Lucky for me…I have a bunch of angels that read my blog.
Monday, May 24, 2010
It’s the problem that never ends…
It goes on and on my friends.
Some people starting helping me not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue helping me forever just because…
It is the problem that never ends…
It goes on and on my friends.
Some people starting helping me not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue helping me forever just because…
It is the problem that never ends…
X infinity…
So goes my visit to the pharmacy…same problem, different day…it goes on and on…
How hard is it? I’m almost out of test strips. I need more. Nuff said, right?
Granted, I’m RARELY almost out of test strips. Today’s problem presented itself because I keep them everywhere, so I take for granted that some are always around…only this time, all my stashes ran out at the same time.
Hence, my visit to the pharmacy…
Hence…the problem that never ends.
Do I order test strips for all three, and they give me one box for each boy and mail me the rest. Or do I ask to fill just one and make life easier on everyone. Fill one, mail the rest. Easy peasy.
Not.
The pharmacist says, “I only have 2 boxes to give you.” (That’s 200 test strips.)
Me, “If you mail me the rest, I won’t get them for ten days. 8 checks a day for 10 days is 240 test strips. I need one more box please.”
The pharmacist says, “I don’t have any more.”
(AHHH, the dance…)
Me, “I’m pretty sure you do.”
The pharmacist says, “I don’t have very many, and I have other patients coming that need them.”
Me, “Well there is the problem!! You are treating my family like one patient. When in fact, I have three separate patients that need supplies!” (I take each boys card and set them in front of him, one by one.)
The pharmacist says, “You really shouldn’t wait until the last min…”
Me, “I’m going to stop you there. I usually don’t wait until the last minute on strips, we just keep them everywhere…and I usually have some somewhere. This is an isolated incident, but that doesn’t really matter now because I don’t think coming into the pharmacy and asking for ONE box of test strips per boy is asking too much.”
The pharmacist says, “Well, I’ll look in the back if I have more, but I should tell you, they really shouldn’t be sharing prescriptions. Each boy should use their own prescription.”
(I swear on my blood ketone strips he said this.)
Me, (((SILENT STARE))) Blink………………….Blink…………………..Blink………….. “I’m not going to try to explain what our life is like, but I will say that besides the fact that boys all use the exact same prescriptions, not sharing their prescriptions is impossible. What you need to focus on here is the fact that you need to see my boys as three separate patients. What you have here are three patients, in a row, that are out of test strips.”
He leaves.
He ends up giving me seven boxes…he gives me a crooked half grin, “I found some extras in the back.”
(((!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)))
You know, for the past two weeks I KNEW it was time to order test strips. It was on my calendar. I spoke to my sister in law at least 3 times about it…but life happens.
He was totally right; I shouldn’t wait until the last minute. But more important than that is the lesson I hope HE learned today: Saying stupid stuff won’t make me go away.
Until next time Mr. Pharmacist.
BWA HAHAHAHAHA! (That is my best evil laugh. Right now, it just seems SOOO appropriate.)
Some people starting helping me not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue helping me forever just because…
It is the problem that never ends…
It goes on and on my friends.
Some people starting helping me not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue helping me forever just because…
It is the problem that never ends…
X infinity…
So goes my visit to the pharmacy…same problem, different day…it goes on and on…
How hard is it? I’m almost out of test strips. I need more. Nuff said, right?
Granted, I’m RARELY almost out of test strips. Today’s problem presented itself because I keep them everywhere, so I take for granted that some are always around…only this time, all my stashes ran out at the same time.
Hence, my visit to the pharmacy…
Hence…the problem that never ends.
Do I order test strips for all three, and they give me one box for each boy and mail me the rest. Or do I ask to fill just one and make life easier on everyone. Fill one, mail the rest. Easy peasy.
Not.
The pharmacist says, “I only have 2 boxes to give you.” (That’s 200 test strips.)
Me, “If you mail me the rest, I won’t get them for ten days. 8 checks a day for 10 days is 240 test strips. I need one more box please.”
The pharmacist says, “I don’t have any more.”
(AHHH, the dance…)
Me, “I’m pretty sure you do.”
The pharmacist says, “I don’t have very many, and I have other patients coming that need them.”
Me, “Well there is the problem!! You are treating my family like one patient. When in fact, I have three separate patients that need supplies!” (I take each boys card and set them in front of him, one by one.)
The pharmacist says, “You really shouldn’t wait until the last min…”
Me, “I’m going to stop you there. I usually don’t wait until the last minute on strips, we just keep them everywhere…and I usually have some somewhere. This is an isolated incident, but that doesn’t really matter now because I don’t think coming into the pharmacy and asking for ONE box of test strips per boy is asking too much.”
The pharmacist says, “Well, I’ll look in the back if I have more, but I should tell you, they really shouldn’t be sharing prescriptions. Each boy should use their own prescription.”
(I swear on my blood ketone strips he said this.)
Me, (((SILENT STARE))) Blink………………….Blink…………………..Blink………….. “I’m not going to try to explain what our life is like, but I will say that besides the fact that boys all use the exact same prescriptions, not sharing their prescriptions is impossible. What you need to focus on here is the fact that you need to see my boys as three separate patients. What you have here are three patients, in a row, that are out of test strips.”
He leaves.
He ends up giving me seven boxes…he gives me a crooked half grin, “I found some extras in the back.”
(((!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)))
You know, for the past two weeks I KNEW it was time to order test strips. It was on my calendar. I spoke to my sister in law at least 3 times about it…but life happens.
He was totally right; I shouldn’t wait until the last minute. But more important than that is the lesson I hope HE learned today: Saying stupid stuff won’t make me go away.
Until next time Mr. Pharmacist.
BWA HAHAHAHAHA! (That is my best evil laugh. Right now, it just seems SOOO appropriate.)
Friday, May 21, 2010
Run Meri, RUN!
Murphy’s Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
Sounds pretty much like the two weeks before every endo appointment to me…
Maybe it is because my senses are more heightened, maybe it’s because I know that once that endo appointment comes I will be held accountable for each and every number…whatever it is, those two weeks of anticipation are like acid to my soul. (If you would have dabbed litmus paper on my brow last week, it would have turned red…hand to god.)
Why? Why does it all go South on me EVERY TIME? Inevitably someone gets sick, a pump site will fail, a child will forget to bolus for breakfast…TWO DAYS IN A ROW, and there are unexplainable highs and lows that even Einstein couldn’t figure out on his best day. Every one of those wonky numbers are like a dagger to my heart. By the time I finally make it to the appointment my fragile heart is an unrecognizable pulpy mess.
I’m calling this one…Murphy’s Law lives!
But fortunately, with all the worry and anticipation those two weeks bring…the two weeks following the endo appointment are the polar opposite.
Freedom, sweet freedom!
No watchful eye…no grilling investigation over each and every number. It is like I walk out of those endo appointments a thousand times lighter…feeling like if I had the right running start, I could fly! The relief is all encompassing. My entire body relaxes and I feel like a person again…A PERSON! Not a puffy pink pancreas.
I kinda look at it like running a marathon. (Yes, this comes right on the heels of my baseball analogy…I can compare diabetes to anything…try me.) When I leave the endo, I feel light and ready to conquer the world. I am hopeful and easily sprint through every curvy road diabetes has to offer. As the weeks pass I try to keep pace, I fall behind sometimes, but I’m no quitter so I keep going…every mile, every day. The last two weeks before the endo appointment are like the final sprint to the finish line. A final sprint that is uphill the entire way. Add to that my exhaustion, my holey worn-out shoes, and my decreased lung capacity and you have the whole pathetic picture. Regardless, I run my heart out drawing on every ounce of energy my body has left. I NEED to be successful! But then here is Murphy’s Law…in the form of rocks to trip on and road that runs right off a cliff. The kicker is, no matter what the condition of the road, I must make it to the finish line…there is no other option. There is an APPOINTMENT for goodness sakes! It doesn’t matter what the road had in store for me…the endo appointment is non-negotiable.
I drag my pathetic war torn body in every three months…and collapse in the office. And then I walk out of these appointments relieved and ready to sleep for a week.
But the thing is…the next marathon starts within days. The relaxation is short lived…we must run again.
And again…
And again…
And again…
Wednesday was our endo appointment. Today I feel great. But I know it isn’t going to last…J goes to six grade camp next week and I will be in the throes of another heart stopping marathon…
Run Meri! Run! Forrest Gump ain’t got nothin’ on me.
Sounds pretty much like the two weeks before every endo appointment to me…
Maybe it is because my senses are more heightened, maybe it’s because I know that once that endo appointment comes I will be held accountable for each and every number…whatever it is, those two weeks of anticipation are like acid to my soul. (If you would have dabbed litmus paper on my brow last week, it would have turned red…hand to god.)
Why? Why does it all go South on me EVERY TIME? Inevitably someone gets sick, a pump site will fail, a child will forget to bolus for breakfast…TWO DAYS IN A ROW, and there are unexplainable highs and lows that even Einstein couldn’t figure out on his best day. Every one of those wonky numbers are like a dagger to my heart. By the time I finally make it to the appointment my fragile heart is an unrecognizable pulpy mess.
I’m calling this one…Murphy’s Law lives!
But fortunately, with all the worry and anticipation those two weeks bring…the two weeks following the endo appointment are the polar opposite.
Freedom, sweet freedom!
No watchful eye…no grilling investigation over each and every number. It is like I walk out of those endo appointments a thousand times lighter…feeling like if I had the right running start, I could fly! The relief is all encompassing. My entire body relaxes and I feel like a person again…A PERSON! Not a puffy pink pancreas.
I kinda look at it like running a marathon. (Yes, this comes right on the heels of my baseball analogy…I can compare diabetes to anything…try me.) When I leave the endo, I feel light and ready to conquer the world. I am hopeful and easily sprint through every curvy road diabetes has to offer. As the weeks pass I try to keep pace, I fall behind sometimes, but I’m no quitter so I keep going…every mile, every day. The last two weeks before the endo appointment are like the final sprint to the finish line. A final sprint that is uphill the entire way. Add to that my exhaustion, my holey worn-out shoes, and my decreased lung capacity and you have the whole pathetic picture. Regardless, I run my heart out drawing on every ounce of energy my body has left. I NEED to be successful! But then here is Murphy’s Law…in the form of rocks to trip on and road that runs right off a cliff. The kicker is, no matter what the condition of the road, I must make it to the finish line…there is no other option. There is an APPOINTMENT for goodness sakes! It doesn’t matter what the road had in store for me…the endo appointment is non-negotiable.
I drag my pathetic war torn body in every three months…and collapse in the office. And then I walk out of these appointments relieved and ready to sleep for a week.
But the thing is…the next marathon starts within days. The relaxation is short lived…we must run again.
And again…
And again…
And again…
Wednesday was our endo appointment. Today I feel great. But I know it isn’t going to last…J goes to six grade camp next week and I will be in the throes of another heart stopping marathon…
Run Meri! Run! Forrest Gump ain’t got nothin’ on me.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Imagining an end to Our Diabetic Life.
Today is the last day of Diabetes Blog Week. I had a lot of fun writing this week...I am overwhelmingly touched by the comments and support that I have received the entire week through.
For the last post of the week, we were asked to imagine a cure.
So without further ado, I give you a list of things I would do on our first day without diabetes…in no particular order.
* I would go out on our front porch and laugh. You know that evil villain maniacal laugh…that goes on and on and on and on. The kind that is loud and comes from your very soul, and then begins to trail off, but then comes back so forceful that it takes everyone off guard…ya, THAT kind of laugh. For like an hour.
* We would go out to eat at the all you can eat Chinese buffet and I would say, “Orange juices all around!!!”
* I would go to the pharmacy and tell the pharmacist that I have an important message for him, and then I would lean in very secretive like, like really close to his face and stick out my tongue and give the biggest, fattest raspberry right in his face, with the greatest force I could muster, and then walk out not saying another word.
* I would take the kids on a day trip, and not take ONE THING WITH ME.
* I would call all the parents at my boys school and ask them to have my boys overnight…and to the water park…and rafting…and to their cabin in Tahoe, and all the other things my boys weren’t invited to because they were nervous having over a diabetic child.
* I would have a brain scan to make sure there wasn’t any permanent damage from the swelling of my brain.
* I would throw away all of our diabetic supplies and actually put linens in my linen closet.
* We would have breakfast at 10, lunch at 2 and dinner at 8.
* I would give Lawton a big fat hot dog for a treat, just because I love him…not because he alerted.
* We would go to the beach and spin in circles until we threw up. And let each kid pick out their own bag of salt water taffy.
* We would end the day having a party. We would invite every person we knew, and kinda know…and never knew. And it would be big…and long…and loud. I would make sure it was the best night of my boys’ lives.
* And after it all, before we went to bed, we would all kneel down in family prayer…and thank the good Lord for the most amazing blessing ever. And pray for cures for the other devastating diseases that are ravaging families around the world.
* We would then all go to bed, and I would effortlessly break the World’s Record for most hours sleep in one stretch.
And when I finally do wake up, I would hug my boys, and then sit down to write the first post to my new blog…Our Un-Diabetic Life.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
A glimpse of Our Diabetic Life, in pictures.
Below are a few pics of what our world is all about. Pumps...Pokes...Uniting with others like on World Diabetes Day...Our medical alert dog Lawton...Endless medical supplies...and most of all: HOPE.
But really, this is what it is all about...the faces below. They paint the real picture of diabetes. They are the front lines. They live it. They endure it...and all the work that I do...I do because of my unconditional love for them. Their older brother is just as much part of that picture. He has the kindest heart. He worries for them, and he has no bitterness that his brothers get a touch, (OK, a ton,) more attention than he. Diabetes is part of who they are...and because of that...I will work night and day to keep these faces smiling and healthy.
Lastly, I would like to share a present I got from my good friend Shamae. She compiled pics of many of the children in the D Mom DOC and made a video for all of us. It captures the heart of why most of us mothers and fathers began blogging in the first place.
Fair warning: It's a tear jerker!
Friday, May 14, 2010
Meri's Magnificent Moronic Moment
(I'm calling it magnificent because it takes the sting out of moronic. Good call, right?)
Today’s official subject is about exercise. But since it gives me an ulcer just to think about soccer season and swim season, I’m going with the WILD CARD category, which I’m assuming can be used as an alternate if one would like to avoid the aforementioned ulcers.
The wild card gave a couple options, and I am choosing the Moronic Moment.
Because I have one almost every day…and yesterday’s was a doozy.
I have blogged about this recently, so you would think it happens ALL THE TIME…and I’m going to tell you it doesn’t, and you can believe me if you want to or not…(but seriously, it really doesn’t.)
Regardless, last night L’s tubing broke off his pump.
He walked into the kitchen, handed me his pump and said, “Sorry mom…it was chopped off.”
I wasn’t even gonna ask.
So since we are at my in-laws…and we weren’t heading home for like an hour, I pulled my Macgyver move and took J’s pump and attached it to L to bolus him.
I then proceeded to give him 60 carbs worth of insulin to cover his dinner.
Yup, I entered 60 carbs and just gave it to him.
With J’s pump.
With J’s ratios, not his.
My husband, (who apparently is the only one of us in our right mind,) was watching the entire thing.
“Wait,” he said. “Isn’t that programmed with J’s settings?”
“Yup.” I said…thinking “duh, it’s J’s pump.”
It took me that long. I’m not kidding…THAT LONG to figure out what I was doing.
My husband quickly entered the amount of carbs in L’s broken off pump to get the correct amount of insulin that L was SUPPOSED to get, and let me know. I had plenty of time to stop J’s pump when it got to the right amount.
Not the end of the world. But Hello stupid head! I have done this many times before, and I always...ALWAYS...give the child who is borrowing the pump insulin from the prime so it doesn't show up on the lenders IOB. And duh, the lenders setting are not right for the borrower anyway.
And speaking of moronic…here’s food for thought: Why don’t we have extra sets at my in laws house? We spend half our life there. (I’m not kidding.)
If my brain gets any more swelly, or any more hurty…I may need intervention.
The kind of intervention that involves a swimming pool, a passport and possibly, electroshock therapy.
Today’s official subject is about exercise. But since it gives me an ulcer just to think about soccer season and swim season, I’m going with the WILD CARD category, which I’m assuming can be used as an alternate if one would like to avoid the aforementioned ulcers.
The wild card gave a couple options, and I am choosing the Moronic Moment.
Because I have one almost every day…and yesterday’s was a doozy.
I have blogged about this recently, so you would think it happens ALL THE TIME…and I’m going to tell you it doesn’t, and you can believe me if you want to or not…(but seriously, it really doesn’t.)
Regardless, last night L’s tubing broke off his pump.
He walked into the kitchen, handed me his pump and said, “Sorry mom…it was chopped off.”
I wasn’t even gonna ask.
So since we are at my in-laws…and we weren’t heading home for like an hour, I pulled my Macgyver move and took J’s pump and attached it to L to bolus him.
I then proceeded to give him 60 carbs worth of insulin to cover his dinner.
Yup, I entered 60 carbs and just gave it to him.
With J’s pump.
With J’s ratios, not his.
My husband, (who apparently is the only one of us in our right mind,) was watching the entire thing.
“Wait,” he said. “Isn’t that programmed with J’s settings?”
“Yup.” I said…thinking “duh, it’s J’s pump.”
It took me that long. I’m not kidding…THAT LONG to figure out what I was doing.
My husband quickly entered the amount of carbs in L’s broken off pump to get the correct amount of insulin that L was SUPPOSED to get, and let me know. I had plenty of time to stop J’s pump when it got to the right amount.
Not the end of the world. But Hello stupid head! I have done this many times before, and I always...ALWAYS...give the child who is borrowing the pump insulin from the prime so it doesn't show up on the lenders IOB. And duh, the lenders setting are not right for the borrower anyway.
And speaking of moronic…here’s food for thought: Why don’t we have extra sets at my in laws house? We spend half our life there. (I’m not kidding.)
If my brain gets any more swelly, or any more hurty…I may need intervention.
The kind of intervention that involves a swimming pool, a passport and possibly, electroshock therapy.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Carbs: A bit of history, with a little yelling at the end.
12 years ago, when J was diagnosed we were helicoptered (my first made up word...I am proudly announcing there are two in this post:) to a hospital in San Francisco. There we were spun through a ridiculously short synopsis of what diabetes is…and then given a book of which we were expected to read the first 100 pages.
That was it. That was the extent of our education.
Well that, and Nurse Ignorant.
Nurse Ignorant was our nutritionist. She had only dealt with type 2 adults. She only knew of “diabetes.” Not Type 1 or Type 2, just one big diabetes lump. And furthermore she had never dealt with a diabetic under the age of 50.
Regardless of all of this, she was ridiculously confident in her analysis of the situation, she didn’t do any research, she didn’t make any calls, she simply came before us and stated that our newly diagnosed Type 1 Diabetic son, (who when admitted was 8 months old, and down to 14 lbs)…was to start drinking HALF Of the formula that he was before, and never eat fruit jars again. Only meat.
We lived with her rules for the entire week we were in the hospital. But we weren’t completely under her spell…we rebelled.
We fed J when he was hungry. Before schedule, and she would come in and yell at us.
We bought a jar of apples and chicken baby food, and when she saw it she confiscated it.
It was hell. Our social worker took notice. She took me aside and said she was working with our insurance to get us transferred to UCSF/Stanford. She succeeded, and in turn we met Dr. Steve Gittelman and his team who totally changed everything.
They were very clear. They did not want us to eat around the insulin. They wanted the insulin to work with whatever J chose to eat. They told us that he should eat like a normal child. That he needed a healthy balanced diet. (Which included fruit, and surprise surprise! Even eventually ice cream.) They told me that he should have as many bottles as he wanted, and taught us that if we mixed fruit with a protein/fat it wouldn’t spike his sugar.
We have stood by that since the beginning. Let the boys eat like healthy boys should. Do we say no to dessert sometimes? Yes. Not because they are diabetic…but because it is the healthy thing to do. They eat a balanced healthy diet. Sure, when they have higher blood sugars we steer them to lower carb options, but for the most part they eat what any other child would eat.
Trial and error have helped us find how certain foods affect each boy. We have a pretty good idea what will happen after they consume pizza, and even Chinese food. We have special ways to bolus to compensate for the food absorption.
They can eat these foods, like any child…in moderation.
There are a few adjustments made of course…for example, sugary cereals are a rare treat. They are one food that we are just now figuring out. I can get it down pretty good on a special Saturday, but it is so nerve racking I can’t bring myself to let them have it during the week.
And sure, they can’t come home and drink a glass of orange juice, without having a little fat in the mix…
Yes, there are modifications. And yes there are families that choose different diets and different ways, in fact some of these families are close friends of mine, and I love them. And I respect their choice! Because what we eat is personal…and everyone has their own path…
But let me be clear to Nurse Ignorant, and the other self proclaimed food police of the world: Damn straight my boys can have that cupcake at Tom’s birthday party! And damn straight they can have that ridiculously enormous donut Johnny brought for the scout troop! And damn straight I will stay on the phone for 20 minutes while my son describes each and every part of the ice cream sundae his teacher served to the class as reward, and then scientifically-wild-assidly-guess how many carbs are in said sundae!
Because we are not in the flippin’ dark ages anymore! Insulin works quickly and efficiently, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve to avoid blood sugar spikes after these foods…F. Y. I.
We are not perfect. The boys’ sugars are not always perfect…but you can bet a year supply of insulin that we put our heart and soul in keeping their sugars level.
Because I believe that all food groups are important.
Even the food group that includes Ice cream.
That was it. That was the extent of our education.
Well that, and Nurse Ignorant.
Nurse Ignorant was our nutritionist. She had only dealt with type 2 adults. She only knew of “diabetes.” Not Type 1 or Type 2, just one big diabetes lump. And furthermore she had never dealt with a diabetic under the age of 50.
Regardless of all of this, she was ridiculously confident in her analysis of the situation, she didn’t do any research, she didn’t make any calls, she simply came before us and stated that our newly diagnosed Type 1 Diabetic son, (who when admitted was 8 months old, and down to 14 lbs)…was to start drinking HALF Of the formula that he was before, and never eat fruit jars again. Only meat.
We lived with her rules for the entire week we were in the hospital. But we weren’t completely under her spell…we rebelled.
We fed J when he was hungry. Before schedule, and she would come in and yell at us.
We bought a jar of apples and chicken baby food, and when she saw it she confiscated it.
It was hell. Our social worker took notice. She took me aside and said she was working with our insurance to get us transferred to UCSF/Stanford. She succeeded, and in turn we met Dr. Steve Gittelman and his team who totally changed everything.
They were very clear. They did not want us to eat around the insulin. They wanted the insulin to work with whatever J chose to eat. They told us that he should eat like a normal child. That he needed a healthy balanced diet. (Which included fruit, and surprise surprise! Even eventually ice cream.) They told me that he should have as many bottles as he wanted, and taught us that if we mixed fruit with a protein/fat it wouldn’t spike his sugar.
We have stood by that since the beginning. Let the boys eat like healthy boys should. Do we say no to dessert sometimes? Yes. Not because they are diabetic…but because it is the healthy thing to do. They eat a balanced healthy diet. Sure, when they have higher blood sugars we steer them to lower carb options, but for the most part they eat what any other child would eat.
Trial and error have helped us find how certain foods affect each boy. We have a pretty good idea what will happen after they consume pizza, and even Chinese food. We have special ways to bolus to compensate for the food absorption.
They can eat these foods, like any child…in moderation.
There are a few adjustments made of course…for example, sugary cereals are a rare treat. They are one food that we are just now figuring out. I can get it down pretty good on a special Saturday, but it is so nerve racking I can’t bring myself to let them have it during the week.
And sure, they can’t come home and drink a glass of orange juice, without having a little fat in the mix…
Yes, there are modifications. And yes there are families that choose different diets and different ways, in fact some of these families are close friends of mine, and I love them. And I respect their choice! Because what we eat is personal…and everyone has their own path…
But let me be clear to Nurse Ignorant, and the other self proclaimed food police of the world: Damn straight my boys can have that cupcake at Tom’s birthday party! And damn straight they can have that ridiculously enormous donut Johnny brought for the scout troop! And damn straight I will stay on the phone for 20 minutes while my son describes each and every part of the ice cream sundae his teacher served to the class as reward, and then scientifically-wild-assidly-guess how many carbs are in said sundae!
Because we are not in the flippin’ dark ages anymore! Insulin works quickly and efficiently, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve to avoid blood sugar spikes after these foods…F. Y. I.
We are not perfect. The boys’ sugars are not always perfect…but you can bet a year supply of insulin that we put our heart and soul in keeping their sugars level.
Because I believe that all food groups are important.
Even the food group that includes Ice cream.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Angel in the infield.
I stand on home plate in the Diabetes Stadium every day…taking whatever diabetes can throw at me. I stand knees slightly bent, hands choked up on the bat, and I swing my heart out over and over, hoping to hit that ball to the moon.
Some days I am completely focused, I have my eye on the ball and I smack that ball again and again…homerun after homerun. Other days, it’s hit or miss. I’ll get a double or two, but mostly singles with the occasional strike out. On my bad days I close my eyes and swing the bat like I’m swatting a swarm of bees. I’m clumsy, exhausted and miss most of what I swing at.
But I don’t stop swinging. Stopping is not an option on this field. That would be letting this visitor win, and I refuse to let that happen while I’m up to bat.
So I swing with all my heart, and hope for the best. I can’t let my team down.
You might wonder how I find the strength to keep swinging. How can I do it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with no seventh inning stretch to rest my weary arms?
There is an easy answer for that.
I have a pinch hitter, silly. And her name is Lisa.
Lisa is my sister in law, and when I get exhausted and just can’t swing anymore, she effortlessly takes my spot and swings like a pro. She is on the sidelines every minute of the day, always ready and willing to step up to bat. She never has hesitation. Her answer is always, “I am ready when you need me.”
Enough of the baseball. My brain hurts.
She takes the kids almost every Saturday. Yup, my husband and I go out almost every weekend. And she knows what to do! She absorbs all the information my hurty brain can spit out and never needs clarification. She gets it, and she is up for the task.
But it goes so much further than that. She’ll pick the boys up after School for me. She picks the boys up before school once a week to have breakfast at their Omi’s house. She takes them out to eat. She carpools when I need an extra person. She volunteers in their classrooms; she goes on fieldtrips with their class. She bakes with them. She reads to them. She takes them on bike rides and walks to pick berries. She’ll take them overnight so my hubby and I can get away. She has sat through more bad music concerts and plays than she can shake a stick at. She just isn’t afraid to take over their care.
I often throw information at her and then give her a long look of, "I'm asking too much of you." And she'll always smile and say, "I'm not scared." She is a second mother to the boys, and when I leave them with her, my brain can shut down…my arms can rest so to speak, and I know that my boys will be safe and taken care of.
Is there any better gift?
I always tell her thank you, but it is such a joke. She deserves so much more than a thank you; she deserves some kind of Medal of Honor or something.
An example of her stellar performance is this last Saturday. As Ryan and I were walking out of Iron Man 2, I gave her a ring.
“J is throwing up” she says.
“We are on our way.” I say.
“No!” she says, “It’s going to be a long night for you, go to dinner, or go home and take a nap…I got this.”
Hello!! Best pinch hitter EVER!
She gives me the time to rest so that when it is my time up at bat, I am at my best.
My husband is amazing.
My mother in law is phenomenal.
My mother is awesome.
Lisa is my angel.
Thank you Lisa for all you do! Without you, our team wouldn’t stand a chance.
Love ya psycho SIL!
Some days I am completely focused, I have my eye on the ball and I smack that ball again and again…homerun after homerun. Other days, it’s hit or miss. I’ll get a double or two, but mostly singles with the occasional strike out. On my bad days I close my eyes and swing the bat like I’m swatting a swarm of bees. I’m clumsy, exhausted and miss most of what I swing at.
But I don’t stop swinging. Stopping is not an option on this field. That would be letting this visitor win, and I refuse to let that happen while I’m up to bat.
So I swing with all my heart, and hope for the best. I can’t let my team down.
You might wonder how I find the strength to keep swinging. How can I do it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with no seventh inning stretch to rest my weary arms?
There is an easy answer for that.
I have a pinch hitter, silly. And her name is Lisa.
Lisa is my sister in law, and when I get exhausted and just can’t swing anymore, she effortlessly takes my spot and swings like a pro. She is on the sidelines every minute of the day, always ready and willing to step up to bat. She never has hesitation. Her answer is always, “I am ready when you need me.”
Enough of the baseball. My brain hurts.
She takes the kids almost every Saturday. Yup, my husband and I go out almost every weekend. And she knows what to do! She absorbs all the information my hurty brain can spit out and never needs clarification. She gets it, and she is up for the task.
But it goes so much further than that. She’ll pick the boys up after School for me. She picks the boys up before school once a week to have breakfast at their Omi’s house. She takes them out to eat. She carpools when I need an extra person. She volunteers in their classrooms; she goes on fieldtrips with their class. She bakes with them. She reads to them. She takes them on bike rides and walks to pick berries. She’ll take them overnight so my hubby and I can get away. She has sat through more bad music concerts and plays than she can shake a stick at. She just isn’t afraid to take over their care.
I often throw information at her and then give her a long look of, "I'm asking too much of you." And she'll always smile and say, "I'm not scared." She is a second mother to the boys, and when I leave them with her, my brain can shut down…my arms can rest so to speak, and I know that my boys will be safe and taken care of.
Is there any better gift?
I always tell her thank you, but it is such a joke. She deserves so much more than a thank you; she deserves some kind of Medal of Honor or something.
An example of her stellar performance is this last Saturday. As Ryan and I were walking out of Iron Man 2, I gave her a ring.
“J is throwing up” she says.
“We are on our way.” I say.
“No!” she says, “It’s going to be a long night for you, go to dinner, or go home and take a nap…I got this.”
Hello!! Best pinch hitter EVER!
She gives me the time to rest so that when it is my time up at bat, I am at my best.
My husband is amazing.
My mother in law is phenomenal.
My mother is awesome.
Lisa is my angel.
Thank you Lisa for all you do! Without you, our team wouldn’t stand a chance.
Love ya psycho SIL!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
An open letter to Glucose Tablets:
Dear Tabs, (Can I call you Tabs?)
Hi there! It’s me, Meri. I want to first of all thank you for all the hard work you do for the diabetic community. You save lives. What can I say? I think we both know- that you know- how wonderful you are. It’s kinda’ obvious you KNOW the good that you do. I mean look at you sitting there…you look like you mean business, and your label is so smugly appealing! You’ve got it going on!
Yeah, but here’s the thing…You are chalky and gross and my boys hate you.
I KNOW!! Craziness! How can it be?? You are like a nutritional staple in so many diabetics lives…how in the world can my boys shun you? How can they reject you when you come in so many amazing flavors? Hello, Sour Apple…I mean, I would eat you in a heartbeat.
But not my cutie patootie boys. Honestly, I’m not being dramatic when I say they would rather pass out than eat you. Harsh I know…but when they are really low, and I shove one of you in their mouth, you are rejected every time. They won’t have you. They push you out with their tongue, they spit you out, OR…they gag.
They would rather have apple juice when they are really low. Who woulda thunk it? Sweet silky satisfying apple juice…sounds gross to me. But what ev’…I’m not diabetic.
And when they need a boost with a little fat, (because apple juice may get the job done, but it’s not gonna bring em home if you know what I mean…Do you know what I mean? I mean apple juice will bring them up, but won’t keep them there, so it’s good, but not great)….anyway if they are above 70 and want to go up and stay up THEY CHOOSE three different options. Yogos, pudding or a banana. These guys bring my boys bloods sugars up…and KEEP them where they are supposed to be. How can I argue…it works. They aren’t all my first choice of food groups for my boys, but the results are so satisfying, and the boys happiness IS the most important thing to me in the world...so...
Not that you wouldn’t do the job too, it’s just that…it is what it is.
And what it is…is…they hate you.
And I can’t MAKE them like you.
So please. Stop jumping into my cart at Target…because no matter how many times I bring you home…they WILL NOT CHEW YOU!
Someday, when they are older…they will find you much more convenient, and I’m sure they will cherish every last one of you. But until then…it’s Auf Wiedersehen . (But between you and me, I’m going to keep one little tube of you in my purse. Just in case they grow up already and agree to eat you.)
In closing, as much as I love, and appreciate your contribution….it is pretty much over.
Thanks for the love Tabs. And if you ever figure out how NOT to be chalky, but creamy and appetizing…let me know. I’ll sneak you into the food cupboard and pass you off as new hole-less lifesavers, and then maybe they’ll give you a whirl.
Sincerely, Meri
Mother of 3 wonderfully picky diabetic boys.
Hi there! It’s me, Meri. I want to first of all thank you for all the hard work you do for the diabetic community. You save lives. What can I say? I think we both know- that you know- how wonderful you are. It’s kinda’ obvious you KNOW the good that you do. I mean look at you sitting there…you look like you mean business, and your label is so smugly appealing! You’ve got it going on!
Yeah, but here’s the thing…You are chalky and gross and my boys hate you.
I KNOW!! Craziness! How can it be?? You are like a nutritional staple in so many diabetics lives…how in the world can my boys shun you? How can they reject you when you come in so many amazing flavors? Hello, Sour Apple…I mean, I would eat you in a heartbeat.
But not my cutie patootie boys. Honestly, I’m not being dramatic when I say they would rather pass out than eat you. Harsh I know…but when they are really low, and I shove one of you in their mouth, you are rejected every time. They won’t have you. They push you out with their tongue, they spit you out, OR…they gag.
They would rather have apple juice when they are really low. Who woulda thunk it? Sweet silky satisfying apple juice…sounds gross to me. But what ev’…I’m not diabetic.
And when they need a boost with a little fat, (because apple juice may get the job done, but it’s not gonna bring em home if you know what I mean…Do you know what I mean? I mean apple juice will bring them up, but won’t keep them there, so it’s good, but not great)….anyway if they are above 70 and want to go up and stay up THEY CHOOSE three different options. Yogos, pudding or a banana. These guys bring my boys bloods sugars up…and KEEP them where they are supposed to be. How can I argue…it works. They aren’t all my first choice of food groups for my boys, but the results are so satisfying, and the boys happiness IS the most important thing to me in the world...so...
Not that you wouldn’t do the job too, it’s just that…it is what it is.
And what it is…is…they hate you.
And I can’t MAKE them like you.
So please. Stop jumping into my cart at Target…because no matter how many times I bring you home…they WILL NOT CHEW YOU!
Someday, when they are older…they will find you much more convenient, and I’m sure they will cherish every last one of you. But until then…it’s Auf Wiedersehen . (But between you and me, I’m going to keep one little tube of you in my purse. Just in case they grow up already and agree to eat you.)
In closing, as much as I love, and appreciate your contribution….it is pretty much over.
Thanks for the love Tabs. And if you ever figure out how NOT to be chalky, but creamy and appetizing…let me know. I’ll sneak you into the food cupboard and pass you off as new hole-less lifesavers, and then maybe they’ll give you a whirl.
Sincerely, Meri
Mother of 3 wonderfully picky diabetic boys.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Reenactment (A day in the life of Our Diabetic Life)
I am going to attempt to give ya’ll a glimpse into our diabetic life. In doing so I’m afraid you will also be given a glimpse of my swelly hurty brain. I can’t write out everything that I think in one day…my brain will explode and your brain will surly over heat, so I’m going to attempt to give you a little looksie into our craziness. A typical Wednesday… Enjoy :)
1:30 am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP x 10,000
(That is my alarm…I sometimes jump up on the third or fourth beep…but usually I let it go for awhile, sometimes for even an hour. Unknowingly of course, but ridiculously annoying none the less.)
1:30-2:30am: Up I go…zombie in motion.
Pee. (If I wait, I usually get the rush to go while wrestling with B’s hand. He has a tendency to yank it away when I test at night. He also likes to sleep on top of his pump. Every night I dig for it, like I’m fishing for the elusive white whale. Inevitably, if I haven’t gone first…I have to go at this point…NOW!)
Check L. Check B. Correct L if need be…correct B if need be. Check J. Correct or feed. Feed B or L if needed.
Set alarm as needed…sometimes I check again in a couple hours, usually it is set for 6:30.
6:30am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
I’m up like a shot. I don’t want my alarm to wake the boys…this is ME time.
On goes the computer…and I check out the D community blogs, email and facebook.
7:00am: LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
I usually sing to wake up the kids, something annoying…annoying enough to get them up, but with silly words so they won’t get too mad at me.
Check sugars x3. Negotiate breakfast…they would have waffles everyday if I’d let them…and then bolus x3 accordingly. (I am not a weigher…I’m a guesser, although an educated one. The boys have 4 different breakfasts that they rotate through, and the carb amounts are all stored in my swelly hurty brain.
Lunches. Shower. Dress. Clean. Cell phones? Sometimes more blood sugar checks, depending on how the night has gone. Off they go to school at 8:30am.
9:00am: Worry, second guess myself.
10:00am: B calls with his blood sugar reading and what he plans to eat for snack. B boluses himself. (This is actually one of my favorite parts of the day…he is always in such a euphorically good a mood, it is contagious.)
10:15am: I’m out the door to L’s kindergarten class to check his sugar and bolus for the snack that was brought in for the day.
11:00am: Worry. J usually doesn’t call anymore. Did his check, did he bolus?? Send J a text telling him the President called and it is a matter of national security that he test his blood sugar.
1:30 am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP x 10,000
(That is my alarm…I sometimes jump up on the third or fourth beep…but usually I let it go for awhile, sometimes for even an hour. Unknowingly of course, but ridiculously annoying none the less.)
1:30-2:30am: Up I go…zombie in motion.
Pee. (If I wait, I usually get the rush to go while wrestling with B’s hand. He has a tendency to yank it away when I test at night. He also likes to sleep on top of his pump. Every night I dig for it, like I’m fishing for the elusive white whale. Inevitably, if I haven’t gone first…I have to go at this point…NOW!)
Check L. Check B. Correct L if need be…correct B if need be. Check J. Correct or feed. Feed B or L if needed.
Set alarm as needed…sometimes I check again in a couple hours, usually it is set for 6:30.
6:30am: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
I’m up like a shot. I don’t want my alarm to wake the boys…this is ME time.
On goes the computer…and I check out the D community blogs, email and facebook.
7:00am: LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
I usually sing to wake up the kids, something annoying…annoying enough to get them up, but with silly words so they won’t get too mad at me.
Check sugars x3. Negotiate breakfast…they would have waffles everyday if I’d let them…and then bolus x3 accordingly. (I am not a weigher…I’m a guesser, although an educated one. The boys have 4 different breakfasts that they rotate through, and the carb amounts are all stored in my swelly hurty brain.
Lunches. Shower. Dress. Clean. Cell phones? Sometimes more blood sugar checks, depending on how the night has gone. Off they go to school at 8:30am.
9:00am: Worry, second guess myself.
10:00am: B calls with his blood sugar reading and what he plans to eat for snack. B boluses himself. (This is actually one of my favorite parts of the day…he is always in such a euphorically good a mood, it is contagious.)
10:15am: I’m out the door to L’s kindergarten class to check his sugar and bolus for the snack that was brought in for the day.
11:00am: Worry. J usually doesn’t call anymore. Did his check, did he bolus?? Send J a text telling him the President called and it is a matter of national security that he test his blood sugar.
11:50am: L has All Star Reading after school. I bring him his lunch, and check his sugar.
I brain scan his meal, carb guess, bolus, pray he eats it all, and leave him for another hour with his teacher.
12:35pm: B calls with blood sugar number and gives animated explanation of what he ate for lunch, that usually sounds something like…”Three bites of apple…3/4 of my sandwich…most of my chips, all of my yogurt and 1 cookie that Bobby gave me.” After which I “confidently” guess…and he hangs up.
12:36pm: (one minute later) Worry.
12:50pm: J checks in for the first time. Fills me in on his blood sugar readings that day, if he in fact did test, and then he runs through what he ate, and tells me the carb amounts he is going to give himself. If he is way off…I’ll correct him, but 90% of the time I agree with him and he hangs up.
1:00pm: Pick up L. A quick trip home and then…
1:15pm: I usually get a call from B. Someone has brought in a special snack for their birthday, or report, or holiday. Honestly I get this call a few times a week. Why must these people celebrate EVERYTHING with a cupcake??? Long conversation ensues about the size of said cupcake, the frosting and accompanying candy decor. Guess a carb amount. Hang up.
1:45pm: They boys get out an hour early every Wednesday for Teacher meetings. Pick up B, J and M.
2:00pm: Home. Blood sugar checks. Small snacks. Guess carbs, bolus.
3:00pm: B to scouts. Snacks in his pocket and a blood sugar monitor clipped to his belt loop.
3:30pm: Lawton usually alerts. The odds of all three boys experiencing blood sugar nirvana at the same time are against us.
4:00pm: Pick up B…and off to in laws for dinner.
How many carbs in homemade German noodles….hmmmmm…let me guess!! I LOVE to guess!!! I must think it is the funnest thing to do in the world…because I do it ALL. The. Time!
EPIPHANY! When someone asks if I have a hobby…my answer will be GUESSING!!
5:30pm: Blood sugar checks, corrections ect…
6:30pm: Leave in laws and off to scouts for the older boys. Cell phones? Snack in J’s pocket? Blood sugar monitor clipped to his belt loop? Off they go. Will they be tying knots…or running the mile? Who knows? I REALLY try not to think about it, and TRY to believe that J has got it all under control.
7:00pm: Usually another alert. Check out the situation and fix whatever is going on.
8:30pm: Ryan picks up sweaty/blood sugar dropping boys, while I put the two youngest to bed.
“Check before you go to sleep!!”
9:00pm: AHHHHHHH>>>>Grown-up time! TV…computer…chatting…loving…
9:05pm: Stop! J comes out remembering he is almost out of insulin in his pump. The 3 insulin pumps are gathered. Supplies, insulin, rocket are accounted for, and the set changes ensue.
10:00pm: Grown up bed time. (If I’m lucky. Depends on the results of the checks.) Check the boys. Correct, feed or change basals as needed.
10:30pm: I think this is when I go to bed…but honestly I don’t remember anything once my butt hits the bed…I am down for the count…until…
1:30am: BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! X 10,000
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Proof Positive!
B gave me my Mothers Day Card today...isn't the front sweet. :)
But it's the inside that is pure magic.
For your viewing pleasure...proof positive that B is from my loins. (You can click it to make it larger.)
Please take note that my EIGHT YEAR OLD SON made me a mothers day card, and twice...YES TWICE...used the ellipsis.
And how cute are his colon/letter D smiley faces??!!
LOVE. HIM.
Happy Mothers Day to all the wonderful mothers in the world!
But it's the inside that is pure magic.
For your viewing pleasure...proof positive that B is from my loins. (You can click it to make it larger.)
Please take note that my EIGHT YEAR OLD SON made me a mothers day card, and twice...YES TWICE...used the ellipsis.
And how cute are his colon/letter D smiley faces??!!
LOVE. HIM.
Happy Mothers Day to all the wonderful mothers in the world!
Diabetes Blog Week
Karen over at Bitter-Sweet had an idea. Unite the D blogging community for one week. Have each of us blog every day for seven days on the same topics. Any blog can participate, and everyone is encouraged to give it a shot.
This week I will be joining the ranks, and blogging EVERY DAY about the topics put in front of me.
Please pop over to Karen's blog to learn more, and to jump on board if you would like.
She also has a master list of all the blogs that will be participation HERE.
Monday will be the first day of posting...Subject? A day in the life.
A day in Our Diabetic Life? It's not going to be a short post...I'll tell ya that much.
See you tomorrow bright and early!
Friday, May 7, 2010
Lawton vs. Bike
This last week has been beautiful here in good ol’ Northern Cali. The hills are bright green, the trees are blooming and the weather has been hovering in the paradisical 70’s. It’s a rough life, but someone’s got to live it, right?
Any hoo…the other night we were eating dinner on my in-laws patio…enjoying leftovers from our big Sunday dinner. The two youngest boys hoovered up their meals, (because really, is there any other way when you are 6 and 8?) And then began riding their bikes around the patio table.
They were giggling and laughing, hard and loud enough to bring my father in law outside with his threatening fist in the air. I love this image. He’ll come out and yell “HEY!” and thrust his fist in the air like he going to knock them to moon, all the while sporting a giant smile...or trying his damndest NOT to smile. He can’t be mad at those boys…he tries…but the smile always comes.
So they were riding and Lawton comes up and alerts me. For those who are new here, we have a dog from Dogs4Diabetics. He is our miracle. I don’t write a lot about him, I kinda feel like Braggie McBraggerson when I do…but he so deserves his own post this week, so I’m REO Speedwagoning it...AKA “I can’t fight this feeling any longer!”
Okay, Lawton alerts. The boys finished dinner less than 5 minutes earlier. There is no way. I’m lazy, I’m comfy, I let it go. Lawton walked off indignantly…I was so enthralled with the doves that were perched on the fence I didn’t think much of it.
About 5 minutes later…Lawton goes up to B and jumps in front of his bike. Stopping him from riding. I mean literally, he jumped in front of a moving bike people. What was he thinking?? B avoided hitting him, just barely, and then moved his bike around him to continue riding, only to have Lawton put his head on his lap to stop him again. It was a sight to see: B was peddling, and Lawton was keeping pace with him, his head stubbornly perched on B’s lap.
My sis in law and I looked at each other. "What the heck is Lawton doing??" And before finishing the sentence we both knew. Almost in unison we yelled, “B! Check your sugar!”
He was 72. He had loads of insulin on board.
Now before you go chastening me…I don’t often ignore Lawton. It’s just he has a history of a few false alerts when it’s right after dinner at my in laws. He alerted once, and got a treat when he shouldn’t have…and now he tries every once in awhile to get away with it. He was the little doggie who cried wolf, so I suppose he had to go to great lengths to get us to believe him this time.
Lesson learned.
The dog has been ON FIRE. He has caught so many impending lows this week, he is a rock star. And the brilliance of it all is he is alerting me when they are between 80-100. Before things get out of hand. He knows they are dropping and he has been spot on with his alerts.
Lawton is crazy wonderful.
When I count my blessings…I for sure, ALWAYS count Lawton twice.
Any hoo…the other night we were eating dinner on my in-laws patio…enjoying leftovers from our big Sunday dinner. The two youngest boys hoovered up their meals, (because really, is there any other way when you are 6 and 8?) And then began riding their bikes around the patio table.
They were giggling and laughing, hard and loud enough to bring my father in law outside with his threatening fist in the air. I love this image. He’ll come out and yell “HEY!” and thrust his fist in the air like he going to knock them to moon, all the while sporting a giant smile...or trying his damndest NOT to smile. He can’t be mad at those boys…he tries…but the smile always comes.
So they were riding and Lawton comes up and alerts me. For those who are new here, we have a dog from Dogs4Diabetics. He is our miracle. I don’t write a lot about him, I kinda feel like Braggie McBraggerson when I do…but he so deserves his own post this week, so I’m REO Speedwagoning it...AKA “I can’t fight this feeling any longer!”
Okay, Lawton alerts. The boys finished dinner less than 5 minutes earlier. There is no way. I’m lazy, I’m comfy, I let it go. Lawton walked off indignantly…I was so enthralled with the doves that were perched on the fence I didn’t think much of it.
About 5 minutes later…Lawton goes up to B and jumps in front of his bike. Stopping him from riding. I mean literally, he jumped in front of a moving bike people. What was he thinking?? B avoided hitting him, just barely, and then moved his bike around him to continue riding, only to have Lawton put his head on his lap to stop him again. It was a sight to see: B was peddling, and Lawton was keeping pace with him, his head stubbornly perched on B’s lap.
My sis in law and I looked at each other. "What the heck is Lawton doing??" And before finishing the sentence we both knew. Almost in unison we yelled, “B! Check your sugar!”
He was 72. He had loads of insulin on board.
Now before you go chastening me…I don’t often ignore Lawton. It’s just he has a history of a few false alerts when it’s right after dinner at my in laws. He alerted once, and got a treat when he shouldn’t have…and now he tries every once in awhile to get away with it. He was the little doggie who cried wolf, so I suppose he had to go to great lengths to get us to believe him this time.
Lesson learned.
The dog has been ON FIRE. He has caught so many impending lows this week, he is a rock star. And the brilliance of it all is he is alerting me when they are between 80-100. Before things get out of hand. He knows they are dropping and he has been spot on with his alerts.
Lawton is crazy wonderful.
When I count my blessings…I for sure, ALWAYS count Lawton twice.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
LOST
I am a LOST junkie. I watch it every week faithfully. I think I love it. I don’t know why I look forward to it so much…it is just so intriguing to me. I love speculating what it all really means. The thrill of the hunt I suppose.
For those who are not LOST fanatics...let me give you a SUPER brief teeny tiny synopsis of what is going on.
The show has been on for 6 seasons. In the very first episode, there was a plane crash and now these people that survived are on this mysterious island…faced with monsters, things from dreams, shadows from their past, and mysterious groups of people, all there for different reasons it seems. (One such group for example, is called “The Others.”)
Point is…they don’t know what is real, and what is not. Who is good, or who is bad. It is a mess of confusion and it is up to the audience to determine what it all means. Different characters view their journey different ways. In the beginning, John Locke was known to be the man of faith. He believed he was brought to the island for a reason. Jack Shephard was a man of science. He believed that it was all neither here nor there…but just focused on how he could get off the island. As the seasons have progressed, so has the cast of characters attitudes and beliefs.
Where are ya goin’ Meri?
Well…Im kinda fellin’ like this whole diabetic life is a bit like LOST. What does it all mean? Were we brought to this point for a purpose? Is it all just dumb luck?
We were all wrecked here, right? We were planning to go to freakin’ Italy so to speak…and ended up nose diving into this LOST world. We have been stranded with a community of people that we wouldn’t have given a second look to, and yet they have become our best allies…The people we rely on to get us through the times when the smoke monsters spread confusion. We are finding we NEED each other. And in the process we are realizing we would have missed out on all of this if we were not stranded on this island in the first place. There are the “Others” of the Type 2 community. They are muddling along with us…their experiences here somewhat different than ours…but at the same time, they are on the same cruddy island living with very similar living conditions.
If diabetes never happened I wouldn’t be here. I would be living my life in a different place mentally all together…with a different perspective for sure.
But would that perspective be a better one?
The characters on LOST this season are in the process of finding out which would be better…a life where they NEVER landed on the island and NEVER witnessed that trials and horror that existed there, or a life living through the hell on the island, and growing because of it. Loving more. Feeling more. Living more. Each life brought a different set of values and completely different life perspectives. BUT! It is important to point out that both lives have value and both are worth living.
Now I’m going to stop here for a second and ask you t STOP your train of thought. NO! I am not HAPPY that we were wrecked her on Diabetic Island. It is scary here and this life isn’t just affecting me, but my husband and more than anyone, my children. But if my family HAS to be wrecked…I’m glad it is with good peeps that have my back. Just sayin’. Okey dokey, moving on…
The running theory for the LOST finale, is that the characters will have a choice…they have lived the life with the island, and they have lived a parallel life where the island never existed. Knowing what they have learned, knowing that both lives have molded them into different people…which life will they ultimately choose? I think they will all choose differently. And I think in our community, it would be the same way.
What is your perspective on all of this? I’m sure, just like the characters in LOST, your perspective has changed over time…and will continue to change as you grow, and experience all this island has to offer. The good and the bad. Like LOST, it is up to us to determine what it all means. Dumb luck? A divine hand? I can’t say what way I believe…I think I flip flop between the two. But what I can say is that through all of the trials that the last 12 years have handed out, I have more thoughtful priorities…priorities that I wouldn’t have had if none of this ever happened. Not that I’m happy about it or anything…but it is what it is.
So yeah, I’m LOST. Like the show, there are good days and bad days, there is heartbreak and joy…but an enduring spirit none the less. I go back and forth between science and faith…”When can I get off this flippin' island?” And “Wow, there are some wonderful beaches, how lucky am I to be here!” (Maybe I have some kind of island fever, I dunno.)
Through it all I have to wonder, will my family live here forever? Maybe…so I’m getting comfortable. I’m enjoying the scenery, focusing on the task or the monster that is in front of me at the moment, and in the process, getting to know the wonderful people that are stranded here with me.
Because whether I like it or not…I believe I am a different person for being here. And maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing.
For those who are not LOST fanatics...let me give you a SUPER brief teeny tiny synopsis of what is going on.
The show has been on for 6 seasons. In the very first episode, there was a plane crash and now these people that survived are on this mysterious island…faced with monsters, things from dreams, shadows from their past, and mysterious groups of people, all there for different reasons it seems. (One such group for example, is called “The Others.”)
Point is…they don’t know what is real, and what is not. Who is good, or who is bad. It is a mess of confusion and it is up to the audience to determine what it all means. Different characters view their journey different ways. In the beginning, John Locke was known to be the man of faith. He believed he was brought to the island for a reason. Jack Shephard was a man of science. He believed that it was all neither here nor there…but just focused on how he could get off the island. As the seasons have progressed, so has the cast of characters attitudes and beliefs.
Where are ya goin’ Meri?
Well…Im kinda fellin’ like this whole diabetic life is a bit like LOST. What does it all mean? Were we brought to this point for a purpose? Is it all just dumb luck?
We were all wrecked here, right? We were planning to go to freakin’ Italy so to speak…and ended up nose diving into this LOST world. We have been stranded with a community of people that we wouldn’t have given a second look to, and yet they have become our best allies…The people we rely on to get us through the times when the smoke monsters spread confusion. We are finding we NEED each other. And in the process we are realizing we would have missed out on all of this if we were not stranded on this island in the first place. There are the “Others” of the Type 2 community. They are muddling along with us…their experiences here somewhat different than ours…but at the same time, they are on the same cruddy island living with very similar living conditions.
If diabetes never happened I wouldn’t be here. I would be living my life in a different place mentally all together…with a different perspective for sure.
But would that perspective be a better one?
The characters on LOST this season are in the process of finding out which would be better…a life where they NEVER landed on the island and NEVER witnessed that trials and horror that existed there, or a life living through the hell on the island, and growing because of it. Loving more. Feeling more. Living more. Each life brought a different set of values and completely different life perspectives. BUT! It is important to point out that both lives have value and both are worth living.
Now I’m going to stop here for a second and ask you t STOP your train of thought. NO! I am not HAPPY that we were wrecked her on Diabetic Island. It is scary here and this life isn’t just affecting me, but my husband and more than anyone, my children. But if my family HAS to be wrecked…I’m glad it is with good peeps that have my back. Just sayin’. Okey dokey, moving on…
The running theory for the LOST finale, is that the characters will have a choice…they have lived the life with the island, and they have lived a parallel life where the island never existed. Knowing what they have learned, knowing that both lives have molded them into different people…which life will they ultimately choose? I think they will all choose differently. And I think in our community, it would be the same way.
What is your perspective on all of this? I’m sure, just like the characters in LOST, your perspective has changed over time…and will continue to change as you grow, and experience all this island has to offer. The good and the bad. Like LOST, it is up to us to determine what it all means. Dumb luck? A divine hand? I can’t say what way I believe…I think I flip flop between the two. But what I can say is that through all of the trials that the last 12 years have handed out, I have more thoughtful priorities…priorities that I wouldn’t have had if none of this ever happened. Not that I’m happy about it or anything…but it is what it is.
So yeah, I’m LOST. Like the show, there are good days and bad days, there is heartbreak and joy…but an enduring spirit none the less. I go back and forth between science and faith…”When can I get off this flippin' island?” And “Wow, there are some wonderful beaches, how lucky am I to be here!” (Maybe I have some kind of island fever, I dunno.)
Through it all I have to wonder, will my family live here forever? Maybe…so I’m getting comfortable. I’m enjoying the scenery, focusing on the task or the monster that is in front of me at the moment, and in the process, getting to know the wonderful people that are stranded here with me.
Because whether I like it or not…I believe I am a different person for being here. And maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing.
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Winners Circle!
Hello my name is Meri, and I am an ellipsis-aholic.
I counted them all…I found myself going through odd phases of cheering for more, and then periods of shame hoping that they would just stop already. I discovered that since my very first blog post, I am steadily using them more and more. My obsession is building…I mean look, I’ve already used them twice in this first paragraph!
But after intense self reflection, (if intense self reflection is eating your weight in Chinese food…) Yes, after deep reflection, I have come to peace with my ellipsis usage. It is part of me…just as much as my flat hair and disproportioned figure.
So without further ado…the total number of times I used the ellipsis, (…) in my past 100 posts is… (don’t you like how I ended that sentence with … just to mess with your heads…)
Is… (HA! I did it again!)
Is…
963!
Winners:
Tracy! She has won the magnet. She didn’t put what prize she wanted so she gets what she gets and she can’t throw a fit.
Jr’s Dad! He has won the Movie…because he said his wife would torture him with it…and since I just celebrated my 17th wedding anniversary this weekend…I am inclined to let her do it. We wives have to get our kicks somehow.
FeltFinland! (Who yes, is in fact really in Finland!) She has won the Medronic skin. Her son hooks up with his new pump this week and it will be fun for him to pick one out!
So the drawing will be for the stationary, which no one wanted. I don’t blame ya, I got it when Boarders Books was going out of business and apparently I don’t want it either. So I’m sending it to you so it isn’t in my house anymore.
I put everyone’s name in a bowl…and my husband picked out the name…and we both agreed that who wins wins and we will be 100% honest. You should have heard our discussion; it was like someone was winning a corvette or something...
and the person who won is…
Lora!
So Tracy and Lora, I have your addresses from our Christmas card list…but Jr’s Dad I will need yours. Please email me: rmmjbls@yahoo.com. Felt Finland…I have your email, so I’ll send word with the details!
Congrats to the winners! But really people, are not we all winners? (hehehe)
Thanks for playing along. :)
I counted them all…I found myself going through odd phases of cheering for more, and then periods of shame hoping that they would just stop already. I discovered that since my very first blog post, I am steadily using them more and more. My obsession is building…I mean look, I’ve already used them twice in this first paragraph!
But after intense self reflection, (if intense self reflection is eating your weight in Chinese food…) Yes, after deep reflection, I have come to peace with my ellipsis usage. It is part of me…just as much as my flat hair and disproportioned figure.
So without further ado…the total number of times I used the ellipsis, (…) in my past 100 posts is… (don’t you like how I ended that sentence with … just to mess with your heads…)
Is… (HA! I did it again!)
Is…
963!
Winners:
Tracy! She has won the magnet. She didn’t put what prize she wanted so she gets what she gets and she can’t throw a fit.
Jr’s Dad! He has won the Movie…because he said his wife would torture him with it…and since I just celebrated my 17th wedding anniversary this weekend…I am inclined to let her do it. We wives have to get our kicks somehow.
FeltFinland! (Who yes, is in fact really in Finland!) She has won the Medronic skin. Her son hooks up with his new pump this week and it will be fun for him to pick one out!
So the drawing will be for the stationary, which no one wanted. I don’t blame ya, I got it when Boarders Books was going out of business and apparently I don’t want it either. So I’m sending it to you so it isn’t in my house anymore.
I put everyone’s name in a bowl…and my husband picked out the name…and we both agreed that who wins wins and we will be 100% honest. You should have heard our discussion; it was like someone was winning a corvette or something...
and the person who won is…
Lora!
So Tracy and Lora, I have your addresses from our Christmas card list…but Jr’s Dad I will need yours. Please email me: rmmjbls@yahoo.com. Felt Finland…I have your email, so I’ll send word with the details!
Congrats to the winners! But really people, are not we all winners? (hehehe)
Thanks for playing along. :)
Thursday, April 29, 2010
100 days of me.
This post that you are reading right now, this one right here… is my 100th post! I’m not sure if this is THAT big of a milestone or not…but I do think it is something fun to blog about. It’s my blog…my prerogative, I can write about ANYTHING I want to!
So how to commemorate such an occasion???
By diving into the depths of traditional blog culture and doing a GIVE AWAY BABY!!!
I mean really, you have put up with me this long! My long posts, my bad sense of humor, my overuse of the words ‘seriously’ and ‘awesomeness,’ my terrible spelling, (hello ASSES instead of ASSESS!) And not to forget my love of the infamous dot dot dot, (…)
Do you not deserve a little something for your kindness? Do you not YEARN for a little piece of me to hold on to? Ok, it’s ok if you answered no to the second question, but really…I know you want something for free…it is engraved in our genetic makeup!
So how to work all of this?
I have gone back and read ALL 100 of my posts and actually counted how many times I used these … dot dot dot. (Which by the way is called an ELLIPSIS thank you very much Wikipedia!) I want you to make an educated guess of how many times I’ve used said ellipsis in my last 100 posts, and then go ahead and type your guess in the comments. The three closest answers will receive one of these lovely prizes!!
A magnet that I bought the other day that made me smile.
A coupon for a free skin for a Minimed pump.
This super cute stationary and Mom OrganizHer.
And last, but not least, my favorite movie, The Princess Bride.
I know, AMAZING prizes, right? Haha. And yes, I AM aware that there are 4 prizes, but one will be reserved for a simple drawing where everyone will have an equal chance. (Because I always lose at guessing games, and this is my give away, my rules!) Which prize will that be? I don’t know…I’m making this up as I go along!
Rules: I will accept comments/guesses until midnight, Saturday May 1.
If you would like to mention your favorite prize (And how you’ll do that, I have no idea, they are all SOOO AMAZING!) priority will be given to the person who had the best guess. Please also let me know if you have a minimed pump!!
Also, I don’t care if this is the first time reading my blog, or if you live in another country, or if you are not a family that lives with diabetes! If you want to enter and show me some love, I will get the prize to you! No worries about the shipping! Sure I might have to send it on a boat/barge, and it might take 4 months to get to you…but I’ll get it to you! Also, Facebook Peeps, you can leave a message on this link on Facebook instead of here if you don't have a google account.
Good luck to all, and thank you again for listening to me, understanding me, and more than anything telling me that I am WAY more wonderful than I actually am!!
Love and hugs! Here is to the next 100 posts!
So how to commemorate such an occasion???
By diving into the depths of traditional blog culture and doing a GIVE AWAY BABY!!!
I mean really, you have put up with me this long! My long posts, my bad sense of humor, my overuse of the words ‘seriously’ and ‘awesomeness,’ my terrible spelling, (hello ASSES instead of ASSESS!) And not to forget my love of the infamous dot dot dot, (…)
Do you not deserve a little something for your kindness? Do you not YEARN for a little piece of me to hold on to? Ok, it’s ok if you answered no to the second question, but really…I know you want something for free…it is engraved in our genetic makeup!
So how to work all of this?
I have gone back and read ALL 100 of my posts and actually counted how many times I used these … dot dot dot. (Which by the way is called an ELLIPSIS thank you very much Wikipedia!) I want you to make an educated guess of how many times I’ve used said ellipsis in my last 100 posts, and then go ahead and type your guess in the comments. The three closest answers will receive one of these lovely prizes!!
A magnet that I bought the other day that made me smile.
A coupon for a free skin for a Minimed pump.
This super cute stationary and Mom OrganizHer.
And last, but not least, my favorite movie, The Princess Bride.
I know, AMAZING prizes, right? Haha. And yes, I AM aware that there are 4 prizes, but one will be reserved for a simple drawing where everyone will have an equal chance. (Because I always lose at guessing games, and this is my give away, my rules!) Which prize will that be? I don’t know…I’m making this up as I go along!
Rules: I will accept comments/guesses until midnight, Saturday May 1.
If you would like to mention your favorite prize (And how you’ll do that, I have no idea, they are all SOOO AMAZING!) priority will be given to the person who had the best guess. Please also let me know if you have a minimed pump!!
Also, I don’t care if this is the first time reading my blog, or if you live in another country, or if you are not a family that lives with diabetes! If you want to enter and show me some love, I will get the prize to you! No worries about the shipping! Sure I might have to send it on a boat/barge, and it might take 4 months to get to you…but I’ll get it to you! Also, Facebook Peeps, you can leave a message on this link on Facebook instead of here if you don't have a google account.
Good luck to all, and thank you again for listening to me, understanding me, and more than anything telling me that I am WAY more wonderful than I actually am!!
Love and hugs! Here is to the next 100 posts!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Rookie Mistake.
Last night I stayed up until 10:30. My husband usually tests the boys at 10 before we go to bed, but he had to go to work in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, so he left the task to me.
Big deal, right? Mom is in charge...she’s a pro…what ever could go wrong?
So like I said before…it was 10:30 before I realized I was a half hour late checking sugars. (In my defense, it was a really good episode of Castle and I was enjoying the quietness of the house.)
So I walked into the boys’ room and saw Lawton, Out. Like. A. Light. Never a good sign. If there was a problem, he was not going to alert me to it. Usually he is a very light sleeper and greets me when I check the boys. But once in awhile he is down for the count. In this case he had a long day outside enjoying the sun and was now drooling on his bed, dreaming of tug o wars and breakfast I am sure.
I checked B-106, a little too low for him.
I checked J-152, a little too high for him.
I checked L- 25.
FREAK OUT TIME.
I try apple juice…too cold…a couple sips, he no likey. He ate half a glucose tab and the other half he just moved to the side of his cheek…he had NO interest in eating it. I tried to talk him into it, I told him it was a new candy and that I stole it from B, but he just pushed it out with his tongue.
OK, so on to plan B. (Not to be confused with my son, B.)
I ripped open the cupboards…and found YOGO’s…his favorite low snack. I fed him an entire pack and he started to come to. I carried him to the couch, (which was NOT EASY, the kid is made of cement,) and with lots of kisses and talking, I got him to finish the juice. As we walked back to bed he was shaking/shivering.
“Momma, can I please have more Yogo’s?”
That voice. That little sweet voice. “Dang straight you can have more Yogo’s!”
That was 45 carbs I put into that boy in 15 minutes. Subsequent tests within the next 10 minutes read 56, 69, 88.
After the 88 I was feeling a little better and went to the monitor. It was all such a blur I wanted to see what his initial blood sugar was exactly.
52.
52?
Fifty-flippin-two???
Turns out, I was holding the meter upside down when I checked him originally.
52…still sucky…but not 25. Not anywhere near the panicky attack of 25.
Stupid One Touch Mini. Your green-ness is uber cool…but your design is not conducive for blurry eyed mothers who check their children’s blood sugars at night by the sliver of light that washes in from the kitchen.
Alright, so it was a tad my fault…a bit of a Rookie mistake for sure.
2am check revealed a 250 blood sugar. I guess it could have been worse. But there was no way, after that freak-out-worry-attack I had, that I was going to correct for any of those 45 carbs I coerced into his body. I may have gone to bed shaky and with a few extra grey hairs, but L was safe and sound, fast asleep. And keeping it that way was the most important thing.
So in conclusion, I would like to submit:
Defense Exhibit A
Defense Exhibit B
Now come on…does it, or does it not say 25???
If this went to a jury, I think I would win. Hands. Down.
Big deal, right? Mom is in charge...she’s a pro…what ever could go wrong?
So like I said before…it was 10:30 before I realized I was a half hour late checking sugars. (In my defense, it was a really good episode of Castle and I was enjoying the quietness of the house.)
So I walked into the boys’ room and saw Lawton, Out. Like. A. Light. Never a good sign. If there was a problem, he was not going to alert me to it. Usually he is a very light sleeper and greets me when I check the boys. But once in awhile he is down for the count. In this case he had a long day outside enjoying the sun and was now drooling on his bed, dreaming of tug o wars and breakfast I am sure.
I checked B-106, a little too low for him.
I checked J-152, a little too high for him.
I checked L- 25.
FREAK OUT TIME.
I try apple juice…too cold…a couple sips, he no likey. He ate half a glucose tab and the other half he just moved to the side of his cheek…he had NO interest in eating it. I tried to talk him into it, I told him it was a new candy and that I stole it from B, but he just pushed it out with his tongue.
OK, so on to plan B. (Not to be confused with my son, B.)
I ripped open the cupboards…and found YOGO’s…his favorite low snack. I fed him an entire pack and he started to come to. I carried him to the couch, (which was NOT EASY, the kid is made of cement,) and with lots of kisses and talking, I got him to finish the juice. As we walked back to bed he was shaking/shivering.
“Momma, can I please have more Yogo’s?”
That voice. That little sweet voice. “Dang straight you can have more Yogo’s!”
That was 45 carbs I put into that boy in 15 minutes. Subsequent tests within the next 10 minutes read 56, 69, 88.
After the 88 I was feeling a little better and went to the monitor. It was all such a blur I wanted to see what his initial blood sugar was exactly.
52.
52?
Fifty-flippin-two???
Turns out, I was holding the meter upside down when I checked him originally.
52…still sucky…but not 25. Not anywhere near the panicky attack of 25.
Stupid One Touch Mini. Your green-ness is uber cool…but your design is not conducive for blurry eyed mothers who check their children’s blood sugars at night by the sliver of light that washes in from the kitchen.
Alright, so it was a tad my fault…a bit of a Rookie mistake for sure.
2am check revealed a 250 blood sugar. I guess it could have been worse. But there was no way, after that freak-out-worry-attack I had, that I was going to correct for any of those 45 carbs I coerced into his body. I may have gone to bed shaky and with a few extra grey hairs, but L was safe and sound, fast asleep. And keeping it that way was the most important thing.
So in conclusion, I would like to submit:
Defense Exhibit A
Defense Exhibit B
Now come on…does it, or does it not say 25???
If this went to a jury, I think I would win. Hands. Down.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Pump Parade: Medronic MiniMed Paradigm
After my post, “You Say Tomato, I say Pump”, I planned on another post titled: “You say Potato, I say MiniMed.” (Come on…It’s a little clever, right??) But instead I came up with what I think is a brilliant idea…THE PUMP PARADE!!! I get so many questions about our pump and why we chose it, it came to me that I should post about the many reasons we went the way we did. Information is power baby!
But in the interest of fairness, and honest curiosity, I asked two of my lovely friends if they would post why they chose their pumps. Today Hallie is posting on the Animas Ping and Laura is posting on the OmniPod! For those who are curious…I hope these posts answer questions for you and take the mystery out of pumps and how they work.
Hooray!! A Parade!!
So join me for the fanfare, because I’m ready to march march march!
Many choose the OmniPod because it is tubeless. (Awesomeness!) And many choose Animas Ping because of its remote. (So Cool!) What would compel someone to choose MiniMed?
Four words.
Easy. Peasy. Lemon. Squeezy.
It is just so simple to use. Very few button presses leads to less frustration and days added to your life. In the interest of full disclosure, we had an Animas pump for about 3 years. It was the same pump as the ping, but without the remote. Any pump is brilliant…and I’m not going to go into why we choose MiniMed over Animas…but I will say the most compelling reason for making the full on change to MiniMed, was ease of use.
So without further ado, I’m going to drive my point home and show you two videos featuring two amazing boys that I get to call mine. All my boys could bolus themselves by 5 years old. It is so nice just to tell them what to do…and know they can do it! With added safty features, like the pump always keeping tabs on insulin on board, I don't have to worry too much of the boys stacking insulin.
Now prepare yourself...you are going to hear my voice now...shattering any and all thoughts of normalcy that you have hereto before thought of me. (Who am I kidding, you all know I'm not normal...)
Hello adorableness!! On the front of the pump there are also two big arrows. You can set those arrows to whatever insulin amount you would like. I have B's set to 0.5 units of insulin, and I have L's set at 0.1 units. If we are on the go, and I want to give B a quick unit of insulin before he jumps into his snack all he has to do is push the arrow up twice and press act. It's called an easy bolus, and I LOVE. IT.
One of the questions I get most often is how do my boys bathe with a pump that is not waterproof. (It can get wet…trust me…it can get drenched…but it is not under warranty if it stops working because of damage from water.) SOOOOO we take it off when they shower or bath, or swim. It’s so easy, but since there is a lot of curiosity of how…here you go…my big J…
I love turning the basal down…I love not ALWAYS having to feed the boys in the wee hours of the morning. Each situation is unique, and for sure there are many instances where food is best. But this technique, when appropriate, is quick and easy. (Am I driving home the point that I am all about easy??)
My last two videos are of my sweet husband doing a set change. They showcase the a BIG reason why we love this pump. J has even learned how to do it. He puts it all together, but still prefers my husband to do the actual insertion.
Ok, so I said L's real name in there...let's just pretend you never heard it...and do me a favor and forget it....riiiiiiight now! And NO, you don't need to go back and listen to it again if you missed it...watch the next video instead...
OK...my husband can do this in his sleep. He has done it SO many times it's like brushing his teeth, he doesn't even have to think about it. When you do it for the first time it is going to take you a lot longer because you are going to have to actually think about what you are doing, but in time...it will be just as easy for you.
Another reason we love MiniMed is the Continuous glucose monitor that works with it. It is a separate site insertion…but it is wireless and “speaks” directly to the pumps. Graphs on the pump screen show trends…and arrows show if blood sugars are going up or down. Our CGM has been a dream!
MiniMed has just launched its brand spankin new pump called the Revel. And to my delight…Diabetes Mine has JUST posted a little bit about it! Please follow THIS link to read more about it if you’d like. But the main thing that I think my readers would find most important is that it has the smaller basal rates like the Animas does, AND when connected to the CGM it will now give you predictive alerts…telling you that you will be low soon…or high soon. Really cool!
The last thing I want to tell you all about is the customer service. They are there 24/7 and awesomely fast in responding to our needs! A little example…Last year, on a Friday at 8:00pm, one of the boys pumps stopped working properly. One call and we had a new pump on our doorstep before 11:00am the next morning. What a relief that they had our back! What a relief that I can call for any reason and they act like I am their most important call of the day. (Nope, I haven’t been paid one red cent to write any of this.)
I think I feel so strongly about it because I depend on it to keep my boys alive…and it is doing a dang good job of it. It is reliable…and it has people behind it who care.
And it’s easy to use. (hehehe I had to say it one more time. :)
So I’m going to end now. And remind you to follow the parade over to Hallie…to learn more about the Animas Ping. And over to Laura…to learn more about the OmniPod.
Now go on…get outta here! Learn something! And tell them Meri sent you!
(Reminder: I’m not a doctor, just a D Mom. Please talk to your doctor…or better yet, your Endo, if you would like to try some of the techniques you read about in this post.)
But in the interest of fairness, and honest curiosity, I asked two of my lovely friends if they would post why they chose their pumps. Today Hallie is posting on the Animas Ping and Laura is posting on the OmniPod! For those who are curious…I hope these posts answer questions for you and take the mystery out of pumps and how they work.
Hooray!! A Parade!!
So join me for the fanfare, because I’m ready to march march march!
Many choose the OmniPod because it is tubeless. (Awesomeness!) And many choose Animas Ping because of its remote. (So Cool!) What would compel someone to choose MiniMed?
Four words.
Easy. Peasy. Lemon. Squeezy.
It is just so simple to use. Very few button presses leads to less frustration and days added to your life. In the interest of full disclosure, we had an Animas pump for about 3 years. It was the same pump as the ping, but without the remote. Any pump is brilliant…and I’m not going to go into why we choose MiniMed over Animas…but I will say the most compelling reason for making the full on change to MiniMed, was ease of use.
So without further ado, I’m going to drive my point home and show you two videos featuring two amazing boys that I get to call mine. All my boys could bolus themselves by 5 years old. It is so nice just to tell them what to do…and know they can do it! With added safty features, like the pump always keeping tabs on insulin on board, I don't have to worry too much of the boys stacking insulin.
Now prepare yourself...you are going to hear my voice now...shattering any and all thoughts of normalcy that you have hereto before thought of me. (Who am I kidding, you all know I'm not normal...)
Hello adorableness!! On the front of the pump there are also two big arrows. You can set those arrows to whatever insulin amount you would like. I have B's set to 0.5 units of insulin, and I have L's set at 0.1 units. If we are on the go, and I want to give B a quick unit of insulin before he jumps into his snack all he has to do is push the arrow up twice and press act. It's called an easy bolus, and I LOVE. IT.
One of the questions I get most often is how do my boys bathe with a pump that is not waterproof. (It can get wet…trust me…it can get drenched…but it is not under warranty if it stops working because of damage from water.) SOOOOO we take it off when they shower or bath, or swim. It’s so easy, but since there is a lot of curiosity of how…here you go…my big J…
I love turning the basal down…I love not ALWAYS having to feed the boys in the wee hours of the morning. Each situation is unique, and for sure there are many instances where food is best. But this technique, when appropriate, is quick and easy. (Am I driving home the point that I am all about easy??)
My last two videos are of my sweet husband doing a set change. They showcase the a BIG reason why we love this pump. J has even learned how to do it. He puts it all together, but still prefers my husband to do the actual insertion.
Ok, so I said L's real name in there...let's just pretend you never heard it...and do me a favor and forget it....riiiiiiight now! And NO, you don't need to go back and listen to it again if you missed it...watch the next video instead...
OK...my husband can do this in his sleep. He has done it SO many times it's like brushing his teeth, he doesn't even have to think about it. When you do it for the first time it is going to take you a lot longer because you are going to have to actually think about what you are doing, but in time...it will be just as easy for you.
Another reason we love MiniMed is the Continuous glucose monitor that works with it. It is a separate site insertion…but it is wireless and “speaks” directly to the pumps. Graphs on the pump screen show trends…and arrows show if blood sugars are going up or down. Our CGM has been a dream!
MiniMed has just launched its brand spankin new pump called the Revel. And to my delight…Diabetes Mine has JUST posted a little bit about it! Please follow THIS link to read more about it if you’d like. But the main thing that I think my readers would find most important is that it has the smaller basal rates like the Animas does, AND when connected to the CGM it will now give you predictive alerts…telling you that you will be low soon…or high soon. Really cool!
The last thing I want to tell you all about is the customer service. They are there 24/7 and awesomely fast in responding to our needs! A little example…Last year, on a Friday at 8:00pm, one of the boys pumps stopped working properly. One call and we had a new pump on our doorstep before 11:00am the next morning. What a relief that they had our back! What a relief that I can call for any reason and they act like I am their most important call of the day. (Nope, I haven’t been paid one red cent to write any of this.)
I think I feel so strongly about it because I depend on it to keep my boys alive…and it is doing a dang good job of it. It is reliable…and it has people behind it who care.
And it’s easy to use. (hehehe I had to say it one more time. :)
So I’m going to end now. And remind you to follow the parade over to Hallie…to learn more about the Animas Ping. And over to Laura…to learn more about the OmniPod.
Now go on…get outta here! Learn something! And tell them Meri sent you!
(Reminder: I’m not a doctor, just a D Mom. Please talk to your doctor…or better yet, your Endo, if you would like to try some of the techniques you read about in this post.)
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A post title without a swear word.
(I couldn't think of a title for this post that did not contain a swear word. So I am generically entering the above title to protect the meek and mild.)
If it were physically possible for a brain to explode from sheer anguish…
OR, if it wasn’t just a saying, but true to life that a heart could explode from worry…
Last night…
I would have been found on my living room floor in pieces.
Literally.
We haven’t had a night like that…I don’t know…ever.
We were on in a 400 story building going up on the diabetes elevator, and someone thought it would be funny to press EVERY button for EVERY floor. Blood sugars had to go up all night long. No matter what we did, we could not come down. We were stuck…and we didn’t even have any crappy elevator music to calm us down.
Let me just tell you…all three were out of whack. ALL. THREE. Even B. B is never out of whack! He is my predictable one. He is my safe diabetes place. And to throw it in my face more, he was the one in the worst shape last night too.
We did all the trouble shooting. We changed sets…we changed more sets. We did system checks…We tried everything except a new bottle of insulin.
WAIT! I’m sure you are all like, “Meri! Why on God’s green earth did you not open a new bottle of insulin???”
Because…we didn’t have any more. We were out. (See how easily I typed that...like OH, Silly! We just didn't HAVE anymore insulin! It is so absurd I can't even wrap my head around it.) We filled all the reservoirs the night before. That was the end of it. We had full reservoirs of insulin…insulin that apparently had lost its potency.
Does Kaiser have a 24 hour pharmacy open within a 100 mile radius of my home? No.
Is there ANY 24 hour pharmacy within 60 miles of my home? No.
Was I willing to pay full sticker price for a brand spankin new bottle of insulin? Yes.
Can you just buy insulin off the shelf? I don’t know. I never found a pharmacy that I could ask.
All I know is we rode the highway to hell last night, and it was every bit as wonderful as the Highways name implies.
After blousing EVERY KID at 10, 12, 1:30, 2, 2:45, 4:00 and 5:00…we finally got them all down to wake up at 79, 95, and 150. And when they woke up it was like nothing happened. They were honestly smiley, happy, energetic kids bouncing off the walls, ready for their day. I was going to keep them home, but they wanted to go. “Why?” They said, “We feel fine!” So they get to go, and if they call me with high numbers at snack recess…it is straight home. By then I will have brand new insulin in my fridge and all will be right with the world again.
Just to put a cherry on top of all of this…last night my husband was supposed to wake up and go to work at 3:00am. I had fallen into bed at 2:45. His alarm went off for almost an hour and neither of us heard it. He woke up an hour late and in his haste, got a speeding ticket on the freeway.
Gee, could this day get any freakin better??? Best day ever for sure! :P~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It has been years since I cried about diabetes. I really don’t let it get to me. It is self protection. Don’t let diabetes win. If there is a problem, fix it.
But last night…in its entirety, was cry-worthy. And I cried. Long and hard. Last night we had a storm come in…as I laid there in bed listening to the rain drops, clutching my Kleenex and hiccuping through my tears, for a moment, it felt like the earth was crying with me. Like all of the D mothers and fathers in the world were there with me…crying too.
Hating what this does to our children.
So I’m picking up the pieces of my exploded self and moving on. I will go to the pharmacy and get insulin. I will call my doctor and tell her I need a bigger prescription than what we are getting. We are down to the wire every month, and it isn’t ok. I will hug my husband even though I am furious we have a $400 ticket to pay. I will take Advil for my cry headache. And I will say my prayers, thanking the Lord that even after the worst of nights, my boys could run out the door this morning…vibrant and happy.
(Please excuse all the grammer and punctuation mistakes, I am writing this post on empty, it's a miracle I got down what I did.)
If it were physically possible for a brain to explode from sheer anguish…
OR, if it wasn’t just a saying, but true to life that a heart could explode from worry…
Last night…
I would have been found on my living room floor in pieces.
Literally.
We haven’t had a night like that…I don’t know…ever.
We were on in a 400 story building going up on the diabetes elevator, and someone thought it would be funny to press EVERY button for EVERY floor. Blood sugars had to go up all night long. No matter what we did, we could not come down. We were stuck…and we didn’t even have any crappy elevator music to calm us down.
Let me just tell you…all three were out of whack. ALL. THREE. Even B. B is never out of whack! He is my predictable one. He is my safe diabetes place. And to throw it in my face more, he was the one in the worst shape last night too.
We did all the trouble shooting. We changed sets…we changed more sets. We did system checks…We tried everything except a new bottle of insulin.
WAIT! I’m sure you are all like, “Meri! Why on God’s green earth did you not open a new bottle of insulin???”
Because…we didn’t have any more. We were out. (See how easily I typed that...like OH, Silly! We just didn't HAVE anymore insulin! It is so absurd I can't even wrap my head around it.) We filled all the reservoirs the night before. That was the end of it. We had full reservoirs of insulin…insulin that apparently had lost its potency.
Does Kaiser have a 24 hour pharmacy open within a 100 mile radius of my home? No.
Is there ANY 24 hour pharmacy within 60 miles of my home? No.
Was I willing to pay full sticker price for a brand spankin new bottle of insulin? Yes.
Can you just buy insulin off the shelf? I don’t know. I never found a pharmacy that I could ask.
All I know is we rode the highway to hell last night, and it was every bit as wonderful as the Highways name implies.
After blousing EVERY KID at 10, 12, 1:30, 2, 2:45, 4:00 and 5:00…we finally got them all down to wake up at 79, 95, and 150. And when they woke up it was like nothing happened. They were honestly smiley, happy, energetic kids bouncing off the walls, ready for their day. I was going to keep them home, but they wanted to go. “Why?” They said, “We feel fine!” So they get to go, and if they call me with high numbers at snack recess…it is straight home. By then I will have brand new insulin in my fridge and all will be right with the world again.
Just to put a cherry on top of all of this…last night my husband was supposed to wake up and go to work at 3:00am. I had fallen into bed at 2:45. His alarm went off for almost an hour and neither of us heard it. He woke up an hour late and in his haste, got a speeding ticket on the freeway.
Gee, could this day get any freakin better??? Best day ever for sure! :P~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It has been years since I cried about diabetes. I really don’t let it get to me. It is self protection. Don’t let diabetes win. If there is a problem, fix it.
But last night…in its entirety, was cry-worthy. And I cried. Long and hard. Last night we had a storm come in…as I laid there in bed listening to the rain drops, clutching my Kleenex and hiccuping through my tears, for a moment, it felt like the earth was crying with me. Like all of the D mothers and fathers in the world were there with me…crying too.
Hating what this does to our children.
So I’m picking up the pieces of my exploded self and moving on. I will go to the pharmacy and get insulin. I will call my doctor and tell her I need a bigger prescription than what we are getting. We are down to the wire every month, and it isn’t ok. I will hug my husband even though I am furious we have a $400 ticket to pay. I will take Advil for my cry headache. And I will say my prayers, thanking the Lord that even after the worst of nights, my boys could run out the door this morning…vibrant and happy.
(Please excuse all the grammer and punctuation mistakes, I am writing this post on empty, it's a miracle I got down what I did.)
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
You say tomato...I say pump...
Let me tell ya, I don’t pretend to know everything….even though sometimes I am convinced I do. There is some bit of logic that hangs around that tells me…”Meri, you still have a load to learn.” As a mom, I like to think I know more than my kids, but every day they surprise me. Every day they come up with a something that throws me for a loop, which makes me stop and say, “Whoa! That was crazy insightful!” They are rock stars like that…
(I am getting off topic…I’m going to reign myself in now.)
Any hoo…I am not all knowing. Do I know more than a lot of people about diabetes? Hell yeah!!
Do I know more than everyone? Hell no!!
But what I do know…what I promise I KNOW with every fiber of my being…is I do know how to handle my boys highs and lows. I know my boys reactions to foods better than everyone other than the man upstairs. I know what foods work best for lows…I know the best corrections to use at certain times of the day…I know so many tiny seemingly insignificant details that it would drive a normal person mad. (Heck, I’m halfway to Madville!)
I know MY boys. Doesn’t mean I’m always right…but I am the BEST person to make decisions on their behalf.
That being said, just because pudding at midnight works for my youngest like a magic doesn’t mean it will work for your kiddo. Just because I turn off my youngest pump for an hour when his blood sugar is 100 at 10:00pm, doesn’t mean doing that for your child will yield the same results.
That is the thing...diabetic dilemmas can be handled a slew of different ways. Just because I am convinced that bananas at 8:00pm are the miracle answer to nighttime lows…doesn’t mean that will work for everyone else. (Come on…I have a million and one different examples…you’re not getting sick of them already???)
That is why it is SOOOO important in our community to say what you would do, and do it in a way that lets that person know, “If you don’t do it my way, it doesn’t mean you are doing it the wrong way.” Because…THERE ARE MANY DIFFERENT WAYS! Especially with diabetes. I think our community is mostly on board with this. Everyone has always been very kind with their comments, and have been as helpful as they can be without stepping on toes…
Through blog comments and observations it boggles my mind the things different people come up with! I will be sure I am handling things correctly when someone will come along with a completely new approach! I love hearing everyone’s input! I love hearing what others would do if they were in my situation! Hey, just recently I heard that upping a basal rate for 8 hours after pizza can help the “after pizza hurricane” go away. (Basel rates!) It might not work for my kids…but heck, it is worth a try. And I choose to give it a try…
But, if I didn’t, would that make me a bad mother?
Which brings me to my point, (I know it always takes me FOREVER to get there,) But I am here now, and my intended topic is this…pump pushing. Poor Lora has had me on her case for months. I’ve tried REALLY REALLY hard not to push it on her. Like seriously, I had to make a conscience effort. I KNOW that the pump is easier. I know that living life on your own schedule and not your insulin’s schedule is a blessing. But just because I know this for me…doesn’t mean it is 100% right for her. Only she can tell you if I have pushed too hard…but beyond that…I hope she feels like this is her decision, and not something she HAS to do.
Because I have to continually remind myself that, believe it or not, there are many people in this world on MDI, (multiple daily injections,) and they are thriving.
And when you have been doing MDI for so many years, and your child’s blood sugar numbers are good, there is a comfort in that. There is comfort in knowing what to do at 8:00 at night, when your child is 102…that this many carbs will do the trick of bringing so and so up to where they need to be. Beautiful predictability…it is an awesome thing!
Now look, pump pushing seems like kinda a harsh phrase…but I am sitting her raising my hand straight up in the air as guilty as the rest of the world…I know without a shadow of a doubt that the diabetic community is encouraging others to go on the pump with only love and the best of intentions. We want everyone to feel the weight it took off our shoulders; we want the world to have the ease of use! I honestly want to shout from the rooftops PUMPS ARE THE BEST INVENTION IN THE HISTIORY OF THE WORLD!!!! And I’m not saying that I haven’t done that before. :)
But, and this is a big but…we all started pumps on our own clock…the time in our lives when it made sense to us. Hell, it took 4 years for our endo to convince us to go on. And I resisted, because shots were doing their job…blood sugars were as good as they could be for our toddler…so I fought it like any protective, caring mother would. And one day shots were not working anymore, and I literally gave in. I raised the white flag, and gave up. “Fine, I’ll give the pump a try, but I’ll probably hate it. I don’t like having a constant reminder of my child’s diabetes, but if this is my last resort, I’ll take it.” It was ultimately my choice, or better explained as my rock and my hard place, but after getting used to the pump it was a no brainer for me to have my other two boys put on pumps immediately after their diagnosis.
But that was my path to take.
And everyone deserves the freedom to make their own informed decisions.
One of my friends has two boys that are T1. One is on the pump. One is on MDI. If you sat with her and listened to her reasoning, you would agree that their decision was brilliant. The best choice for their family!
So here I sit…conflicted yet resolved. Yes, pumps are the best thing since sliced bread. No, you are not a bad mother (or father) if your child is not on a pump.
That is my crazy brain, and I’m stickin’ to it.
(I am getting off topic…I’m going to reign myself in now.)
Any hoo…I am not all knowing. Do I know more than a lot of people about diabetes? Hell yeah!!
Do I know more than everyone? Hell no!!
But what I do know…what I promise I KNOW with every fiber of my being…is I do know how to handle my boys highs and lows. I know my boys reactions to foods better than everyone other than the man upstairs. I know what foods work best for lows…I know the best corrections to use at certain times of the day…I know so many tiny seemingly insignificant details that it would drive a normal person mad. (Heck, I’m halfway to Madville!)
I know MY boys. Doesn’t mean I’m always right…but I am the BEST person to make decisions on their behalf.
That being said, just because pudding at midnight works for my youngest like a magic doesn’t mean it will work for your kiddo. Just because I turn off my youngest pump for an hour when his blood sugar is 100 at 10:00pm, doesn’t mean doing that for your child will yield the same results.
That is the thing...diabetic dilemmas can be handled a slew of different ways. Just because I am convinced that bananas at 8:00pm are the miracle answer to nighttime lows…doesn’t mean that will work for everyone else. (Come on…I have a million and one different examples…you’re not getting sick of them already???)
That is why it is SOOOO important in our community to say what you would do, and do it in a way that lets that person know, “If you don’t do it my way, it doesn’t mean you are doing it the wrong way.” Because…THERE ARE MANY DIFFERENT WAYS! Especially with diabetes. I think our community is mostly on board with this. Everyone has always been very kind with their comments, and have been as helpful as they can be without stepping on toes…
Through blog comments and observations it boggles my mind the things different people come up with! I will be sure I am handling things correctly when someone will come along with a completely new approach! I love hearing everyone’s input! I love hearing what others would do if they were in my situation! Hey, just recently I heard that upping a basal rate for 8 hours after pizza can help the “after pizza hurricane” go away. (Basel rates!) It might not work for my kids…but heck, it is worth a try. And I choose to give it a try…
But, if I didn’t, would that make me a bad mother?
Which brings me to my point, (I know it always takes me FOREVER to get there,) But I am here now, and my intended topic is this…pump pushing. Poor Lora has had me on her case for months. I’ve tried REALLY REALLY hard not to push it on her. Like seriously, I had to make a conscience effort. I KNOW that the pump is easier. I know that living life on your own schedule and not your insulin’s schedule is a blessing. But just because I know this for me…doesn’t mean it is 100% right for her. Only she can tell you if I have pushed too hard…but beyond that…I hope she feels like this is her decision, and not something she HAS to do.
Because I have to continually remind myself that, believe it or not, there are many people in this world on MDI, (multiple daily injections,) and they are thriving.
And when you have been doing MDI for so many years, and your child’s blood sugar numbers are good, there is a comfort in that. There is comfort in knowing what to do at 8:00 at night, when your child is 102…that this many carbs will do the trick of bringing so and so up to where they need to be. Beautiful predictability…it is an awesome thing!
Now look, pump pushing seems like kinda a harsh phrase…but I am sitting her raising my hand straight up in the air as guilty as the rest of the world…I know without a shadow of a doubt that the diabetic community is encouraging others to go on the pump with only love and the best of intentions. We want everyone to feel the weight it took off our shoulders; we want the world to have the ease of use! I honestly want to shout from the rooftops PUMPS ARE THE BEST INVENTION IN THE HISTIORY OF THE WORLD!!!! And I’m not saying that I haven’t done that before. :)
But, and this is a big but…we all started pumps on our own clock…the time in our lives when it made sense to us. Hell, it took 4 years for our endo to convince us to go on. And I resisted, because shots were doing their job…blood sugars were as good as they could be for our toddler…so I fought it like any protective, caring mother would. And one day shots were not working anymore, and I literally gave in. I raised the white flag, and gave up. “Fine, I’ll give the pump a try, but I’ll probably hate it. I don’t like having a constant reminder of my child’s diabetes, but if this is my last resort, I’ll take it.” It was ultimately my choice, or better explained as my rock and my hard place, but after getting used to the pump it was a no brainer for me to have my other two boys put on pumps immediately after their diagnosis.
But that was my path to take.
And everyone deserves the freedom to make their own informed decisions.
One of my friends has two boys that are T1. One is on the pump. One is on MDI. If you sat with her and listened to her reasoning, you would agree that their decision was brilliant. The best choice for their family!
So here I sit…conflicted yet resolved. Yes, pumps are the best thing since sliced bread. No, you are not a bad mother (or father) if your child is not on a pump.
That is my crazy brain, and I’m stickin’ to it.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Mommy Growing Pains
Today was the first day back to school from spring break. It was a dismal scene last night as I confirmed that yes, school night bedtime will remain 8:30pm.
Today was a wonderful day. No extreme lows after basal changes made during the break, and my boys remembered to call me, which is no small miracle in itself…
Which leads me to why I’m blogging…
I was so happy to see the boys after school! I had a super day, and I was eager to hear how their first day back went. One by one I gave the boys the once over with questions and observations about dirty hands and homework habits.
When I got to B, I got a little more than I bargained for.
A little background first. My boys do not go to the school we are supposed to go to. They go to another school across town for two very good reasons. 1) It is a better school. 2) My mother is the yard duty for lunch recess.
Scratch that…my mother USED to be the yard duty at lunch recess. She jumped ship and started working at another school a few weeks ago. Which, really…it is her life...she can work where she wants. EXCEPT! She used to grab B after recess and give him her cell to call me with his lunchtime bg numbers and carb intake. Since she no longer works there, it is up to B to remember to call me on his own.
Which isn’t working out too well. I would say he is 50/50. When he forgets, I have to call the office and have them patch me through to his classroom, which is no biggie, but it does interrupt the class…and it is slightly embarrassing for my Big Boy B.
I even went into the office and asked if they thought the new yard duties would be willing to remind him, and they thought that they would LOVE TO. Except in the week since, they haven’t reminded him once. So I’m back to calling when he forgets.
Alrighty then!! Back to our previously scheduled story!
So I got to B…I said, “B, you were a rock star for remembering to call me today! How in the world did you remember???”
Which received the reply, “Trust me Mom, you DON’T want to know!”
“Oh, but I think I do!”
“Nope, it is a LONG story…trust me, you REALLY don’t want to know.”
(Yes, he is his mother’s son…)
“I’ve got the time, and I would love to hear your LONG story.”
“OK, well, my teacher put a post-it note on my desk that said, ‘Don’t forget to call your mom!’ It was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me in my life!”
(Again, he has flair, he is from my loins…)
“How was that embarrassing?“
“HELLO!!! A bunch of people laughed at me…because I had to call MY MOMMY!”
So, as a mother I want to fix this, right? I work through it with him, problem solving…
“Maybe it can say, CYM…for, Call your mom…it’ll be code, and only you will know.”
“Won’t work mom…everyone will want to know what it means.”
“Tell them it means put Candy in Your Mouth!”
(He rolled his eyes at this point…do you blame him?)
“Maybe it can just say, don’t forget to call, and leave me out of it.” But before I finished my sentence he already had the answer.
“I’ll just tell her to write ‘Call your Dad’ Instead of Mom. Easy! I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
And he happily skipped away.
Apparently, it is ok to call your Dad, and not your Mom.
Apparently my 8 year old is going on 13.
It always happens, it has already happened to me twice before…it is no longer cool to hug when I pick up from school…it is no longer cool to acknowledge your Mom’s existence in the school breezeways…
But when it does happen, I’m never prepared.
He was right…I didn’t want to know.
Today was a wonderful day. No extreme lows after basal changes made during the break, and my boys remembered to call me, which is no small miracle in itself…
Which leads me to why I’m blogging…
I was so happy to see the boys after school! I had a super day, and I was eager to hear how their first day back went. One by one I gave the boys the once over with questions and observations about dirty hands and homework habits.
When I got to B, I got a little more than I bargained for.
A little background first. My boys do not go to the school we are supposed to go to. They go to another school across town for two very good reasons. 1) It is a better school. 2) My mother is the yard duty for lunch recess.
Scratch that…my mother USED to be the yard duty at lunch recess. She jumped ship and started working at another school a few weeks ago. Which, really…it is her life...she can work where she wants. EXCEPT! She used to grab B after recess and give him her cell to call me with his lunchtime bg numbers and carb intake. Since she no longer works there, it is up to B to remember to call me on his own.
Which isn’t working out too well. I would say he is 50/50. When he forgets, I have to call the office and have them patch me through to his classroom, which is no biggie, but it does interrupt the class…and it is slightly embarrassing for my Big Boy B.
I even went into the office and asked if they thought the new yard duties would be willing to remind him, and they thought that they would LOVE TO. Except in the week since, they haven’t reminded him once. So I’m back to calling when he forgets.
Alrighty then!! Back to our previously scheduled story!
So I got to B…I said, “B, you were a rock star for remembering to call me today! How in the world did you remember???”
Which received the reply, “Trust me Mom, you DON’T want to know!”
“Oh, but I think I do!”
“Nope, it is a LONG story…trust me, you REALLY don’t want to know.”
(Yes, he is his mother’s son…)
“I’ve got the time, and I would love to hear your LONG story.”
“OK, well, my teacher put a post-it note on my desk that said, ‘Don’t forget to call your mom!’ It was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me in my life!”
(Again, he has flair, he is from my loins…)
“How was that embarrassing?“
“HELLO!!! A bunch of people laughed at me…because I had to call MY MOMMY!”
So, as a mother I want to fix this, right? I work through it with him, problem solving…
“Maybe it can say, CYM…for, Call your mom…it’ll be code, and only you will know.”
“Won’t work mom…everyone will want to know what it means.”
“Tell them it means put Candy in Your Mouth!”
(He rolled his eyes at this point…do you blame him?)
“Maybe it can just say, don’t forget to call, and leave me out of it.” But before I finished my sentence he already had the answer.
“I’ll just tell her to write ‘Call your Dad’ Instead of Mom. Easy! I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
And he happily skipped away.
Apparently, it is ok to call your Dad, and not your Mom.
Apparently my 8 year old is going on 13.
It always happens, it has already happened to me twice before…it is no longer cool to hug when I pick up from school…it is no longer cool to acknowledge your Mom’s existence in the school breezeways…
But when it does happen, I’m never prepared.
He was right…I didn’t want to know.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
New Sistah in the House!
I would like to introduce you to our new friend, Connie! Her new blog, Hope and Beginnings can be found HERE.
Read her story sistahs and brothahs, your going to need a Kleenex for this one. She has two little girls with Type 1. They were diagnosed less than a year apart. (Sounds familiar to a lot of us, I know.)
Please go over and give her some of that sunshine you all spread so well! Her little girls are the same ages as many of the D moms in our group!
Introduce yourself, she's a keeper. :)
Read her story sistahs and brothahs, your going to need a Kleenex for this one. She has two little girls with Type 1. They were diagnosed less than a year apart. (Sounds familiar to a lot of us, I know.)
Please go over and give her some of that sunshine you all spread so well! Her little girls are the same ages as many of the D moms in our group!
Introduce yourself, she's a keeper. :)
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Reenactment (The Sequel)
Scene: 11:50 am, Car, driving to the movie theater.
Players: Three boys and a frazzled mother. (Son #4 chose to sit this movie out.)
Son #1: "What’s for lunch?"
Mom: “Hello! Popcorn! What else do you eat at a movie??”
Son #2: “Popcorn isn’t lunch mom.”
Mom: “Hold it son! If chocolate rabbits are ok for breakfast, popcorn is ok for lunch, I’m calling this one.”
Son #3: “Can we at least get hot dogs at the theater?”
Mom: “Oh sure, I’ll just take $50.00 out of your savings account and that should cover it.”
Son #1: “Nice try mom, we know you are kidding.”
Mom: “A mom’s gotta try…”
Scene: Waiting in line for tickets, Mom is horrified as she glances at Son #3, also known as B.
Mom: “What the heck happened B! Your pump tubing is flapping in the wind…when did it get ripped out of your pump??”
Son #3: “Seriously Mom, if I knew, I would have told you.”
Mom: “UHG! I’ll MacGyver it…We’ll work it out.”
Son #2: “What is MacGyver?”
Mom: “Not what…who. He is a really smart man…almost as smart at me.”
Scene: Sitting inside the theater, waiting for the movie to start. Boys balancing popcorn on their knees, hands full of hot dogs and napkins.
Mom: “J, bolus for the food, and when it is done, give me your pump, I’ll hook up B and give him insulin through the prime so it doesn’t show up on your IOB. B, hand me your pump, I’ll put in your carb and BG amounts so I’ll know how much to give you through J’s pump.”
(Scary thin balding Man sitting in front turns his head, intrigued at the medical/spy-like jargon.)
B, rifles through his pockets. He pauses. He rifles again. He stands, and thrusts his hands down every pocket his shorts have.
Son #3: “Huh, weird, I don’t have my pump, don’t worry, it’s probably at home.” (Nonchalantly sits down and continues to watch previews like it’s no big deal…)
Mom: (Paralyzed in fear…mind racing…’probably??? Probably???’) “How can you just not know where your pump is B? What do you mean probably? Did you take it out of your pocket? Where is it?!!”
Son #3: “I have no idea…it’s probably at home…don’t freak out mom.”
Mom: Freaking out. Pictures of a lone pump sitting on the sidewalk, with young punks walking by picking up the curious purple video game like contraption, flash through her head. $5000 gone. Just gone. “Does anyone have their cell phone? I left mine at home.” (Nope, not one boy has their cell phone.) “I’m going to the car…stay here! Don’t talk to strangers… (Discreetly pointing to scary bald guy in front of them,) Don’t go to the bathroom…I’ll be RIGHT back!”
Scene: In front of the theater. Mom barges through the theater doors, eyes blazing, hair flying, hands in front of her flat with fingers spread, using the spaces between her fingers as virtual magnifying glasses. Walking quickly, scanning, manic…all the way back to the car…looking in gutters, evil-eyeing the punks…ready to cry…opening the door…
It is there.
On the seat.
The pump.
Probable victim of a seat belt.
(Big fat sigh of relief.)
Scene: Movie theater…again.
Pump has bolused son #2 and son #3 and now is back in son #2’s pocket.
Crisis averted, movie thoroughly enjoyed…
Just another Pancreatical day. (Pancreatic/hysterical=my new favorite word.)
Players: Three boys and a frazzled mother. (Son #4 chose to sit this movie out.)
Son #1: "What’s for lunch?"
Mom: “Hello! Popcorn! What else do you eat at a movie??”
Son #2: “Popcorn isn’t lunch mom.”
Mom: “Hold it son! If chocolate rabbits are ok for breakfast, popcorn is ok for lunch, I’m calling this one.”
Son #3: “Can we at least get hot dogs at the theater?”
Mom: “Oh sure, I’ll just take $50.00 out of your savings account and that should cover it.”
Son #1: “Nice try mom, we know you are kidding.”
Mom: “A mom’s gotta try…”
Scene: Waiting in line for tickets, Mom is horrified as she glances at Son #3, also known as B.
Mom: “What the heck happened B! Your pump tubing is flapping in the wind…when did it get ripped out of your pump??”
Son #3: “Seriously Mom, if I knew, I would have told you.”
Mom: “UHG! I’ll MacGyver it…We’ll work it out.”
Son #2: “What is MacGyver?”
Mom: “Not what…who. He is a really smart man…almost as smart at me.”
Scene: Sitting inside the theater, waiting for the movie to start. Boys balancing popcorn on their knees, hands full of hot dogs and napkins.
Mom: “J, bolus for the food, and when it is done, give me your pump, I’ll hook up B and give him insulin through the prime so it doesn’t show up on your IOB. B, hand me your pump, I’ll put in your carb and BG amounts so I’ll know how much to give you through J’s pump.”
(Scary thin balding Man sitting in front turns his head, intrigued at the medical/spy-like jargon.)
B, rifles through his pockets. He pauses. He rifles again. He stands, and thrusts his hands down every pocket his shorts have.
Son #3: “Huh, weird, I don’t have my pump, don’t worry, it’s probably at home.” (Nonchalantly sits down and continues to watch previews like it’s no big deal…)
Mom: (Paralyzed in fear…mind racing…’probably??? Probably???’) “How can you just not know where your pump is B? What do you mean probably? Did you take it out of your pocket? Where is it?!!”
Son #3: “I have no idea…it’s probably at home…don’t freak out mom.”
Mom: Freaking out. Pictures of a lone pump sitting on the sidewalk, with young punks walking by picking up the curious purple video game like contraption, flash through her head. $5000 gone. Just gone. “Does anyone have their cell phone? I left mine at home.” (Nope, not one boy has their cell phone.) “I’m going to the car…stay here! Don’t talk to strangers… (Discreetly pointing to scary bald guy in front of them,) Don’t go to the bathroom…I’ll be RIGHT back!”
Scene: In front of the theater. Mom barges through the theater doors, eyes blazing, hair flying, hands in front of her flat with fingers spread, using the spaces between her fingers as virtual magnifying glasses. Walking quickly, scanning, manic…all the way back to the car…looking in gutters, evil-eyeing the punks…ready to cry…opening the door…
It is there.
On the seat.
The pump.
Probable victim of a seat belt.
(Big fat sigh of relief.)
Scene: Movie theater…again.
Pump has bolused son #2 and son #3 and now is back in son #2’s pocket.
Crisis averted, movie thoroughly enjoyed…
Just another Pancreatical day. (Pancreatic/hysterical=my new favorite word.)
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