Insert Month Here

November is Diabetes Awareness Month but I just can’t get behind it this year. There’s plenty of great advocacy and causes out there — I totally support the Big Blue Test and World Diabetes Day and all the efforts to get the media to get diabetes facts right in their reporting. But this year I missed most of the November #dsma chats on Twitter, didn’t log any of my exercise (even though I did some) on the BBT, only caught about 15 minutes of the 24 hour #dsma chat for WDD, and didn’t wear blue on Fridays. I’m not proud of any of that (especially falling down on the big blue test) but here we are on November 25 and I’ve been an advocacy wasteland.

For me, November has always been more about depression than diabetes. I’m sure some of it is the short days and the rest is just my body chemistry. In the cyclical nature of my dealings with depression, the fall is often a low time. This fall I stopped being consistent taking meds and sure enough, that was good proof that the meds actually do work when I take them. I slowly became much more aware of depression just when everyone else was working to raise awareness about diabetes.

I’ve been feeling much too aware of diabetes – too frustrated over diabetes tech stuff, too tired of not seeing useful patterns in downloads, too overwhelmed with all the site changes, supplies, prescription management, doctor’s appointments, nighttime checks, exercise balancing, etc. Just exhausted by diabetes details in general. Add onto that everything that comes with depression and I just don’t have it in me to try to raise anyone else’s awareness.

I am aware of all the hard work that is going on out there in the DOC and I’m grateful for it. So, at least I’m on the right page for Thanksgiving.

Posted in Balance, Burnout, Depression, Living with Diabetes | Leave a comment


We diabetics are surrounded by numbers all the time. Current blood sugar, CGM reading, last A1c, number of carbs in lunch, number of servings in that bag of chips, weight, blood pressure, lipid panel, years since diagnosis, shots or boluses per day, TDD of insulin…

Today, I got to get two numbers I never have before: A bib number and a finish time for my first (another number!) 5K (they’re everywhere!).


34:28 (we didn’t take a picture of me next to the screen with my time so you’ll have to take my word for it. Set myself a goal of “under 50 minutes” so I’m feelin’ pretty good :)

Me! Waving (pink shorts)

At the start of the race. Me! Waving (pink shorts)


And the finish line: barely visible, pink shorts, sunglasses

Finish Line! I’m coming in to the left of friend Kate, barely visible, pink shorts, sunglasses




I have spent plenty of time wishing that I was able to run farther and faster, bemoaning the knee pain that has been plaguing me the last 4-5 weeks, and being very insecure about doing a 5K at all, but right now I’m just going to feel proud of myself for sticking with it, running the whole way, and coming in at a better time than I thought possible. I think I probably share those feelings with most of my Beginning 5K teammates. But, I’m also going to feel proud that I did all of that with diabetes — I did it with a blood sugar in the high 200s (what is up with that?? was worried about lows, not highs…); I did it carrying my PDM & Dexcom receiver, wearing a pod & sensor, carrying glucose tablets and juice; I did all those practices dealing with unpredictable blood sugars, explaining why I would carry so much stuff with me, cursing diabetes for slowing me down in so many ways; I did it while working full-time at my job and at caring for my own diabetes and our daughter’s diabetes.


What’s next?

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Here We Go Again

(the continuing saga of finding an endocrinologist)

I had my first appointment with (yet another) a new endocrinologist this week. I feel like I have been looking for a new endo for about 7 years, since my first endo departed for Western Massachusetts – too far away for me to reasonably follow. Not actively looking, a lot of time spent treading water with the replacement endo. But, a lot of time *thinking* about looking, or at least being dissatisfied with the status quo. I’ve written a couple of posts about this here and here*.

This new endo is associated with a different hospital than the one I consider to be “mine” and I had some serious reservations about that – especially since this hospital has a not-great reputation in a couple of specific areas. But, I’m only going to end up in the hospital and needing an endo in an emergency situation so would be at “my” hospital anyway. Overall, I have only heard positive things about this practice though, and one of the endos I would have switched to in my old practice moved to this practice. The thing that pushed me over the edge was my nutritionist/CDE’s (a bit about her here) recommendation & assurance that one particular doc would likely be a good fit for me.

After a positive start (comfortable waiting room, efficient, friendly & professional office staff), my cautious optimism was boosted by the MA who managed to be friendly, competent, and quick. She even asked me about wearing a CGM since I hadn’t thought to give it to the front desk for downloading — they asked me about downloading my CGM! In the last practice, since all the changes in doctors and the chaos of temporary endos, they resisted downloading both my PDM (“we always have problems with the omnipod software”) and my CGM (something about the wrong cables, etc., etc.).

But, what about the endocrinologist? She entered the room with energy, a smile, and ready to talk with me about my concerns. She had reviewed my records sent over from the other practice, had seen my most recent lab results, and had my A1c result and printouts from both PDM and CGM. She explained her process & confirmed that it made sense and would work for me. We looked at the “big picture” in the downloads and then at the last week in detail, talking through patterns, my usual approach to hypo treatments (temp basals?), bolusing (extended? etc.), and my comfort level with some possible settings changes. She asked me questions and actually listened to my answers.

Maybe all of that sounds like what happens in a run-of-the-mill appointment but if so then you are very fortunate in your doctor. It has been years since I have experienced that much give and take in an endocrinology appointment.

It wasn’t “perfect” – but it was a great beginning. I feel like she is a professional I can work with and (hopefully) learn from and as a result, make some good tweaks to my diabetes management. For now I am going to try seeing her twice/year and seeing the CDE at this practice twice/year, so I will meet the CDE in January. That pattern worked very well for me back in the golden days of endo & CDE #1.

I’m encouraged. And that’s a much better feeling than how I have been leaving the endo office for a long time.

*I thought I had written about this topic more, but as usual I think about it so much I just feel like I have written about it. Bad blogger.

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Immune System Fail

I know, duh! I have T1 diabetes so it is pretty obvious that I had an immune system fail. But truthfully, that fail doesn’t irritate me as much as subsequent ones. I have pneumonia. It is early September, has been running in the 80s – sunny and humid, and no one I know is sick. I have only ever had pneumonia once before and it was two years ago, late August, same-same.

Two years ago I was short of breath in a completely strange way to me. After a week or so I finally went to see my doctor. She couldn’t hear anything in my lungs but sent me off for a chest x-ray just to rule out pneumonia. Chest x-ray clear but my breathing still wasn’t easy so we moved on to two different types of inhaler. No help. Exhaustion was setting in and they sent me in for a CT scan with contrast dye trying to rule out a pulmonary embolism (no other symptoms of that but scary!). The phone call after that was “good news! you have pneumonia!” By then I had been dealing with it for over 3 weeks and I basically took antibiotics and slept for the next 3 weeks trying to get my energy back.

So, last weekend here we go with the shortness of breath again. I thought maybe it’s allergies? Gave it a few more days until the humidity broke but the breathing wasn’t any better, any maybe a bit worse. Went to doctor yesterday, couldn’t hear anything in lungs, but go get a chest x-ray and start on these antibiotics just in case. This morning the call to say that the chest x-ray is clear. This doesn’t make me feel any better. Breathing is a little worse today, a bit more coughing. Nurse will talk to the PA and I should get a call later.

I’m over that initial immune system fail. It’s beyond irritating — it changed my life in some very intrusive ways — but it happened and here we are. BUT, if I’m going to have an immune system that is such an overachiever that it killed off the beta cell function in my pancreas then shouldn’t it keep up that hard work and fight off things like summer pneumonia? Which is it immune system? Are you in or out?

healthy islet & islet under attack from Children with Diabetes siteislet2350islet1350


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This Running Thing

RA5Kgroup0903This fall I signed up for a Beginner 5K group organized by my local runner’s shop. It seemed like a good way to get some exercise motivation a couple of times/week and try something new (running). It has been both easier and harder than I expected but overall I’m really glad I signed up and that I’m doing it. One night last week my blood sugars were not cooperating at all though. I am trying a few different strategies but the same strategy doesn’t seem to work two workouts in a row. This one particular night I had started off doing really well but about 1/3 of the way through the workout things went south and even after having some glucose tablets and a juice I just couldn’t get my body to do all of the running intervals. I walked a lot, one of the coaches dropped back at one point to check on me, and I just felt all-around lousy.

As I walked back to my house after practice, knowing that the BHE would want to know “how it went,” I had two conversations going in my head. My reactive brain and my rational brain had totally different takes…

Reactive Brain Rational Brain
It was awful! What made me think I could run a 5K when my bgs are crazy enough when just walking. And I should have not tried to run/walk as fast at the beginning… I thought I could tweak the insulin but it’s too hard, I never get it right. I feel like an idiot. My stomach is upset from all that sugar and the fast dropping bg and I’ll probably be over 300 in about an hour. I don’t know why I can’t get this right. I hate diabetes. Hate. It. I can’t believe how much I didn’t run. It was ok. I did the same things as the last practice but the bgs reacted totally differently. Not sure why. I may have started off a bit more ambitiously than I should have; need to think more about pacing with running than I do with walking. I wish I had tested with the meter sooner instead of hoping the CGM would level out. Having to eat that much sugar while running makes my stomach feel lousy. I think I can try better pacing next time and forcing myself to test earlier. So, not as good as some of the other practices, and I didn’t run at least 3 of the intervals, but I did finish.

I did go to the next practice, was surprised to find my bgs only at 140 (instead of the 180 where I’ve been trying to start) and a down arrow on the CGM so I kept my temp basal on longer, had a few glucose tablets, and did a much better job pacing my early intervals. BG kept dropping though and I had 11 glucose tablets and a juice before finally realizing that I didn’t think my CGM could be right. Tested and I was 229. Grrr. But, I ran every interval, felt much better than the time before, and learned (relearned?) the lesson to add CGM data to body data to see if I need to verify with a meter test. I hate to stop to test and it is hard to test and run, but I’m going to have to accept that and figure out a way to do it if I want to get better at this running thing.

And, that’s what it’s about. Not being perfect, getting better.

Posted in CGM, Exercise, Getting it Wrong, Living with Diabetes | Leave a comment

What doesn’t kill you…keeps you alive?

[Long post… want to skip to the “point?”]

This has been a challenging summer for training other people to manage the Bear’s diabetes. Since the BHE and I both work full time and we can’t afford to pay $15/hour full time to have our (amazing!) babysitter care for her 40 hours/week, we signed her up for several different camps to get through the summer. Every time a new camp starts, I have to try to explain what they will need to do with Amalia’s meter and pump at snack time, and what to look out for the rest of the time. So far, we haven’t had any camp leaders or counselors who have ever had a kid with T1 in their program – not even one that is older. All of this results in some sort of compromise between the “best” diabetes management and the most camp fun (with the least disruption to the camp). The first morning, the counselor looks at the info I have brought, looks warily at Amalia’s blood glucose meter & pump, and tries to smile. I smile, try not to speak too quickly or in diabetes jargon (the pump delivers insulin to her, not “bolus”), assure them that the Bear can help with some things (like bg testing) if they can just help with reminders, counting carbs (“and everything is labeled! See how easy?” smile. smile.), and listening to her if she says she isn’t feeling well. This really doesn’t cover how quickly things can go wrong, that a million other factors may affect her bgs and therefore her emotions, physical wellness, etc. But, panicking the counselor really won’t do anyone any good either. Most of the camps are only 1/2 day and it is much more likely that the one bg test & snack in the middle along with the encouragement to call me at any time will work out just fine. So. Today. First day of yet another camp – we get a bit of a rough start because of a blister so we aren’t as early as I had hoped. Still, the head counselor is an adult (nice, since all of the counselors at rec camp are in their early 20s and don’t inspire confidence) and she seems happy to take the time to look everything over. We go through the routine and though we don’t look at the pump itself or do a “practice” bolus, we walk through the instructions with pictures and she really seems on top of things. The Bear has been entering carbs into the pump more often these days too so I am feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I drive 1 hour to pick up my mother and take her to a neurology appointment about 20 minutes from her house. [Did someone say Sandwich Generation?] On the drive to the office, I get a call from the office. They have done her bg test (226) and just want to doublecheck that they understand the procedure from there. So, we talk through the Bear eating her snack, them adding up the grams of carbs, entering the bg number into the pump, then the grams of carbs, then delivering the insulin. All good. Just as we are about to walk into the doctor’s office, I get another call from the camp: “We’re not sure what happened. We put in the bg number (226) but never got to put in the grams of carbs and now it is delivering insulin but we don’t know how much. {deep breath. maybe it is just giving a correction for the 226 and I can walk them through entering just the carbs once this dose is complete}. They explain that the Bear was entering stuff and before they got to telling her to enter 20g for carbs she said “oops – I don’t know what I did”, they looked at the pump and could see it was counting up the dose. By the time they called me (not long, but pumps deliver boluses quite quickly), and I asked them what was on the screen, it was up over 8 units and counting. {8 UNITS! When she probably should have had about 1.2????} I asked them to look closely and be sure there was no decimal point – that it wasn’t 0.8. No, definitely (now) 9.something and still going. Tried to remember canceling bolus to talk them through it but it finished before we got to the right menu. {At this point I can feel my heart racing, my eyes burning, my brain scrambling to both sound calm and give them good instructions. Of course, all I want to do is scream, hang up the phone, abandon my mom in the waiting room, and drive 1 hour+ back to the camp} They were away from the camp so didn’t have access to all the food packed in her bag but did have a granola bar and they were heading back right then. Had them unclip her pump, give her the granola bar, and told them to test her as soon as they got back & to call me right away. The counselor asked, “just how dangerous is this?”. Someone who wasn’t really me calmly explained that too much insulin could be very dangerous and it was very important to keep giving her food and drink and testing her bg. The person who was really me was internally screaming, crying, and scared – so scared. It’s amazing how quickly your mind can think of options, judge them, and then move on to the next one. I contacted the Bear’s (did I mention that she is amazing?) babysitter who said that she could get to the camp as soon as possible (she lives about 30 minutes from it) which would get her there about a half hour before she would have otherwise. We talked about what would constitute the need to go to the ER. I called our pediatric endo office to get their thoughts on what the right things to do were – and whether I should just have the camp call 911. They calmly said that first we should verify how much insulin the Bear actually got. Then calculate how many grams of carbs she would need to counteract the extra. Then, as long as she was able to take in carbs, there was no need to go to the hospital. This made me feel better. Passed this on to Super-babysitter and waited. When they got back to the camp and tested the Bear she was at 52 — I instantly did not feel better. Told them to give her a juicebox and all of the glucose tablets in her backpack (do those tubes hold 8 or 10?? couldn’t remember but didn’t really matter). Then to test her in 15 minutes and hopefully by then Super-babysitter would have arrived. Next communication was that the Bear did get 10 units of insulin, was at 89, chatty, and wanted to finish out camp (another 10 minutes). When she came out at the end she was 84 so I told the babysitter to keep her unclipped from the pump, have her drink another juice, and leave the pump unclipped until they could eat lunch. We did all the math and she could have that juice and her whole lunch without getting insulin. Through all of this, my mom saw the neurologist, I tried to pay attention, and I drove my mom home. Every instinct in my body said I needed to get to where the Bear was and bring her home. But, every rational cell in my brain said that she was safe, happy, and I should go to work as planned. I myself was 60-ish for my bg and even after eating 12 glucose tablets (all I had with me) my CGM still pointed down. So, I called work, then stopped at CVS for more chalky tablets and headed home. I am so done for today. I am scared for my daughter and for my mother. I certainly don’t want to deal with my own diabetes. I am worried about a rebound high for the Bear that we’ll spend the rest of the afternoon trying to fight without causing more hypoglycemia. I don’t want to send her to camp tomorrow or any other days before school starts. But. I can’t let my fear run her life. I can’t be the Angel of Death and try to control everything. At the end of 2013 I said that I hoped to be able to let go of some of my fear baggage so that I could let the Bear do the things she needs to do… These kinds of experiences are going to happen and I can’t let them dictate what we let her do in the future – though we can learn from them to try to prevent similar situations.

Insulin. She has to have it to stay alive. There are no other options. We are lucky to have the tools we have — an insulin pump, a CGM (which she isn’t wearing this summer because it is too complicated/overwhelming for all of these camps — arrrrrgh!), a fast and relatively painless way to test her bg, carb counting and food labels, and insulin itself. But, none of that can change the fact that miscalculating the dose of insulin can kill her. In trying to do the very thing that saves her life every minute of every day, we put her life at risk. How can this be? 

Posted in Balance, Getting it Wrong, Living with Diabetes, Medications, Others caring for your T1 kid, Sandwich Generation, T1 Kid On the Loose | 1 Comment

Who Has the D?

This past week we had* appointments with the Bear’s CDE and the practice’s associated social worker. I didn’t have anything specific for the social worker but was just feeling like it was important. The BHE assured me that this was fine — it’s ok to say that something feels important and what does she (social worker) think?

By the end of the hour, I felt like I had gone to therapy**. I thought that maybe the Bear would talk a bit about how she feels about diabetes, her pump, the CGM — all those mornings when she cries or screams about hating to wear her pump (which honestly aren’t very often but so traumatic for me that they loom large in my memory). Or that the social worker would get her to talk about school, other kids. Really, I didn’t know, but I didn’t expect to be talking about my guilt about the Bear’s eating habits, high bgs, combative lows. My. Guilt.

D-parents are in a strange relationship with chronic illness. They (we) are managing the illness but not physically experiencing the symptoms. [disclaimer: yes, I also have T1 so I experience the physical manifestations of this disease, but I don’t experience the Bear’s T1, only my own] We have our own feelings about the disease and its impacts but we aren’t the patient. I know many D-parents worry that they can’t fully understand what their child is going through, and I have that same worry. I was diagnosed at age 29, so never had to deal with diabetes at school or through the teenage years. At this age I think it somewhat helps the Bear that I also test my bg and change out pump sites. But at some point, that won’t be comforting — it will be one more way in which she wishes she wasn’t like her mother and she’ll need other people to talk to. <– That’s kind of a digression, sorry.

It’s bizarre to have the responsibility and worry of the chronic illness without actually having it. The social worker clearly sees this all the time with the families she is working with. The Bear seemed perfectly happy playing with the toys in the office and gave us both a look of disbelief when we wondered how she was feeling. Duh. Fine.

I set a few goals for our family around healthy eating and the Bear trying new things and we got our school orders from the nurse. And that’s kind of diabetes in a nutshell. Emotional struggles and everyday life; playing, talking, and solving problems.

*Well, when we got there it turned out I had the day wrong and we were there 1 week early. We drive about 1 hour to get to the appointment and of course I had taken time off from work. Our fabulous practice managed to do some magic and get us in to see the social worker about 30 minutes after our first appt was scheduled and then one of the nurses for pattern management, etc. I was so grateful.

**Which I have :) My therapist who specializes in chronic illness & T1 diabetes pretty much saved my life 6 months after my diagnosis.

Posted in Balance, Living with Diabetes | 1 Comment