A Diabetic without a Kitchen . . . .

As I sit here typing this, I’m waiting for a floor guy to come measure our kitchen.  This seems to be a normal occurrence these days, as I believe this will be the third set of measurements taken . . . at least.  But thats okay, because in the next month or two we will be deep in the throws of a complete kitchen remodel.  If you’ve ever seen my kitchen, you’ll understand just how excited I am.  I have the ugliest kitchen in the world.  You probably think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not.

Of course, along with being excited, I’m also stressed out and neurotically nervous about the renovation - because I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t completely stressed out and expecting the worst.  When you live in a house built in 1921 there are a lot of things that can go wrong with any house project.  And then, of course, there is diabetes.  Because diabetes adds an extra layer of stress to just about anything, right?

Here’s the thing.  In the next month or so my kitchen will be gutted.  For approximately five weeks I’ll have no stove or sink, and the contents of my cabinets will be in boxes.  Hopefully we can stick the refrigerator in the dining room to hold some food . . . . and cream for coffee made in a borrowed Keurig.  As long as I have coffee and some fruits and vegetables I’m good for breakfast and lunch.  But dinner is what I’m worried about.  Dinners for five weeks with no kitchen.  Dinners at restaurants for five weeks.  I don’t see how my blood sugars (or my pants size) are going to handle that.  Help!!!

Have you ever gone through a similar renovation?  How did you manage to eat healthy when you had no kitchen?  I could sure use any tips!

Pretty Purple . . . .

I’ve been really loving purple lately.  My pump is purple, my iPad cover is purple, and many of my newest pieces of clothing are purple.  I’m even sporting a big purple bruise where my last CGM sensor was.


I wasn’t surprised that the sensor left a bruise, because upon insertion it bled.  It bled a lot.  But it finally stopped and I hooked up the transmitter, and for the entire life of the sensor my readings were SPOT ON.  The accuracy of that sensor made me smile, much like the smiley face I see where the sensor used to be.  (You see it too, right?)

Purple bruises may not be all that pretty.  But if they give my CGM super accuracy?  They are pretty darn gorgeous in my eyes!

When the Scary Crashes In . . . .

Living with diabetes is a delicate balance for me.  I need to be mindful of the horrible things this disease can bring.  But I can’t let myself dwell on them too much because I have to LIVE my life.  Sometimes, though, the scary just crashes in.


Sunday night, for the first time in my life, I needed Glucagon.  I actually don’t remember that part at all and was completely shocked when Pete said “You remember I gave you Glucagon, right?”.  I vaguely remember some juice I wouldn’t drink, and that’s about it.  Pete was pretty intimidated by the LONG list of instructions and HUGE needle - when he stuck it in my leg he expected me to jump up screaming like they do on T.V.  Apparently all I did was tell him to “Stop pinching me” - but then again, the needle was in my thigh, not in my heart like on T.V.

I spent all day yesterday feeling like I’d been run over by a truck.  (I was unprepared for how awful I’d feel, either from the Glucagon or the low itself or the combination of the two.)  But anyway, I’m okay.  Well, I’m physically okay.  Mentally?  I’m still kind of freaked out.  I don’t quite know what to write, what to think, what to say.  I’m not quite ready yet to dive in to any more details of the night.  For now, I just need to put it behind me and keep going . . . . .

Over-Treater: An Exposé

Created using this cool meme maker I found.

There are many facets of my diabetes routine that could use some improving, but treating lows had never been one of them.  I pretty much had the “low-treat-move on” routine down.  But lately, something has changed.  I’m in a cycle of “low-treat-treat-treat some more-high-correct-correct-correct some more-low again-repeat-repeat-repeat”.  What’s up with that?  It’s time for some in-depth analysis, yes?

After some keen observation and deep-down soul searching, I’ve uncovered two causes of my newly developed over-treating addiction.  Discomfort and fear.  In the past I didn’t mind lows so much.  Sure I felt a bit fuzzy and shaky, but it was fine.  Lately, however, my lows seem to be accompanied by an indescribable feeling that is, for lack of an actual description, downright majorly sucky.  I treat and try to wait it out, but every five minutes feels like five miserable hours.  So instead of re-testing after 15 minutes, I find myself eating a little bit more every five minutes just to make that “OMG make it stop” feeling go away.

You would think uncomfortable and scary would go hand in hand, but for me and my lows that isn’t the case.  Or maybe the fear just over-rides the discomfort . . . . I don’t know . . . . it’s not like I’m thinking all the clearly in that situation.  All I know is lately some lows have been popping up where I feel like my rational thought and state of consciousness are slipping away.  It’s usually when I’m home alone and it always scares the daylights out of me.  It sends me to the kitchen determined to eat anything and everything I can get my hands on.

I bet you can guess where both of these paths lead once the low is gone.  I’m left with a high blood sugar from hell.  I hate to be high.  I really really hate to be high.  So I correct.  And when it doesn’t budge, I start to rage bolus.  And we all know where that leads . . . . .

I guess it’s time to check myself in to Over-Treater Rehab.  I’ve figured out what makes me over-treat and I know what I have to do to stop it.  But come on, when I’m sweaty and shaky and my brain isn’t working right and I feel completely horrible and I’m really scared, calmly eating the correct number of grams feels like the most difficult thing in the world.  I know I should believe I can absolutely do it, but I’m pretty sure I can’t.  And that is a huge part of what makes diabetes so freaking frustrating for me.

Free Stuff Friday . . .

Today I’m so thrilled to be posting over at Lauren’s Hope as part of their Free Stuff Friday series.  I’m talking about summer, and the challenges it can bring to dealing with diabetes.

“High temperatures can make my insulin spoil. Summer barbeques and cocktails are a challenge to my blood sugar management. Water from the pool or the ocean (or even my own sweat, eeewww) can be dangerous to my insulin pump. And vacation travel can really throw me off.”

To read the rest of what I had to say, head on over to the Lauren’s Hope blog.  Actually, you should head over there even if you couldn’t care less about what I had to say.  Because as I said, today is Free Stuff Friday and Lauren’s Hope is giving away THREE medical i.d.’s - one cuff, one stainless steel bracelet, and one necklace.  That’s three chances to win, but you need to leave a comment on my guest post over at Lauren’s Hope blog to enter!

Thank you, Lauren’s Hope, for inviting me to guest post and for involving me in Free Stuff Fridays!

Hello, Old Friend . . . .

** I’m not calling today’s post a “Wordless Wednesday” or even an “Almost Wordless Wednesday” because I blabber too much! **

I know, I woke up low.  No worries, my coffee will boost me right back up!

Yesterday I inserted a fresh CGM sensor and started it up . . . . . and it felt like such a relief!  You see, I had been without my CGM for over a week.  Somehow I had lost track of how many sensors I had left until I inserted my last one right before I left for Friends for Life.  I could’ve ordered a new box right away, to be delivered while I was away, but that seemed like a really bad idea.  It was blazing hot out, and I knew the box of sensors could easily sit on my porch in 90+ temps and beating sun for hours until my parents came in the evening to collect the mail and feed the cat.  So I decided to wait until I got home to order a new box of sensors.

I lived with diabetes for 30 years before starting on a CGM.   So I was unprepared for how odd it would feel to go just one week without it.  It wasn’t all bad - I tested a lot more often and I learned to listen to my body more.  But it’s still a relief to have my blood sugar graph on my hip and hear the alarms blaring to alert me to lows I don’t feel.

Hello, old friend, good to have you back.  How did I manage all those years without you?  I sure will keep better track of your supplies from now on!

Here’s Your Sign . . . .

You know the Bill Engvall “Here’s Your Sign” bit, right?  Stupid people should have to wear signs that say “I’m stupid” on them, so we don’t waste our time taking to them.  Makes me laugh every single time.

But I’m not so concerned with people handing me an “I’m Stupid” sign . . . . I say stupid stuff all the time so I’m pretty sure I’ve already got one plastered across my forehead.  Instead I’m thinking about a sign that says “I’m D-Brained”.  You know, for all the times diabetes takes over your brain and injects diabetes into every single situation.  And I earned my “I’m D-Brained” sign the other day, while doing laundry.  I was folding Pete’s running shorts when I saw this . . . .



and my first though was “Why does Pete have an insulin pump pocket in his running shorts?".  Ummm, duh, the pocket is for i.d. and keys, not pumps - here’s your sign.

Do you have any “D-Brained” moments you’d like to share, or it is just me who thinks of diabetes 24/7?

Being “The Rule” . . . . .

Most days, diabetes makes me feel like the “exception to the rule”.  In almost any social situation, I’m the only one who needs to check my blood sugar.  I’m the only one worried about the carb content and glycemic index of the food and beverages served.  I’m the only one who has to pause in the middle of a physical activity to treat a low and wait for it to come back up.  I’m the only one who runs to the bathroom dozens of times because a high blood sugar is making my bladder fill up faster than my twitter feed during a #dsma chat!  Most days I truly feel like I’m the exception and the rest of the world is the rule.

But for the last six days I was at Friends for Life, and a huge part of the magic for me is that I’m the rule, not the exception.  At FFL when I pop a 250+ blood sugar after breakfast, I can look around the room and know a bunch of others are fighting down a post-breakfast high with me.  If I run out of test strips, someone will probably have my back.  If I forgot my glucose tabs, just about everybody will have my back!  When it’s time to eat, each buffet item is beside an index card displaying the carb count.  Everywhere I look there are pumps clipped to clothing, CGM sensors peeking out from sleeves, tubing trailing down from waistbands, and fingertips rife with callouses.  If I need to vent and cry during a session it’s okay, because most of the room is venting and crying right along with me.  At Friends for Life, I just feel like everybody really understands because they are living it too.

Key chain tangled up in your pump tubing?  Yup, I’ve been there too!

It’s not always so bad being the exception.  These days I’m usually confident enough not to care that diabetes makes me different.  But sometimes?  Well sometimes it is just such a relief to be the rule.