tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61774328653761476862024-03-12T21:44:38.690-04:00Diabetes Blog: BETA BUDDIESA Day-In-The-Life Of Parenting a Child With Type 1 DiabetesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.comBlogger195125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-54659399380189547592018-11-06T08:55:00.002-05:002018-11-06T09:02:38.639-05:00#DAM Drinking Plan<div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" data-ad-preview="message" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_5w0">
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_5be19965b02ca9301022904">
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/dam?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz"></span><span class="_58cm"></span></span></a><br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/practicaljoe?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">practicalJoe</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/adrinkingplan?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">adrinkingplan</span></span></a>?<br />
<br />
A couple of weeks ago, in the car, on our way to hockey...<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<br />
'Well I don't like carbonation, so no beer.'<br />
<br />
'Joe, there are other types of alcohol.'<br />
<br />
'I don't see any point in drinking, it seems dumb ... and it costs money.'<br />
<br />
While I appreciate his 15 year old views on alcohol consumption and his
aversion to all things carbonated, this is a conversation that will
need to be re-visited over the years.<br />
<br />
'Joe, you may change your
mind. I know how things go.... You may try drinking at some point.
The important thing is that you have a plan.'<br />
<br />
He was looking down at his phone...I think I lost him<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f71/1/16/1f614.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😔</span></span>. <br />
<br />
But, I kept going. This topic...is another anxiety inducing topic for
me. You see, the liver is not a great multi-tasker. The liver can be
helpful if you are having a low blood sugar, it helps release glucose
into the bloodstream. But, if alcohol enters the picture, the liver
moves detoxifying the alcohol to priority number 1. This can cause
severe hypoglycemia ... add in that you might be passed out drunk...in
the early morning hours; this is an extremely dangerous situation.<br />
<br />
'If you do decide to drink, you will need a "plan". It is something we
should talk to your doctor about. The plan may be as simple as eating
an extra snack before going to bed, or checking your number more often,
or not drinking on an empty stomach....' <br />
<br />
(I think I talk too much)<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f34/1/16/1f914.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🤔</span></span> <br />
<br />
As the "drinking plan" discussion came to a quiet end, I realized "the
drinking plan" sounds like way too much responsibility for a partying,
possibly inebriated college-aged male. <br />
<br />
Who am I kidding!? I'm humbled.<br />
<br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/makediabetesvisable?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">makediabetesvisable</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/t1d?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">t1d</span></span></a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oEDDWW4hGBY/W-Ge6EmkoEI/AAAAAAAAMJs/nwliGtzOBNAHsqQD40txvsecs8aEYIn4wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20181103_162504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="676" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oEDDWW4hGBY/W-Ge6EmkoEI/AAAAAAAAMJs/nwliGtzOBNAHsqQD40txvsecs8aEYIn4wCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_20181103_162504.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-31460983411570953752018-11-05T08:51:00.000-05:002018-11-06T08:52:12.629-05:00#DAM D' Drama<div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" data-ad-preview="message" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_5w3">
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_5be19965b09a97674629647">
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/dam?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz"></span><span class="_58cm"></span></span></a><br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/d?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">d</span></span></a>'rama on day 5 of DAM ...one would think having a month dedicated to awareness should be enough.<br />
<br /> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/nothingscaresthebejeezusouttaadmamalikeastomachbug?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">nothingscaresthebejeezusouttaadmamalikeastomachbug</span></span></a><br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
11:30-something last night...while I was sleeping...<br />
<br />
I hear a 'I've been low for hours...had 4 juices...stomach doesn't feel good'...my eyes snap open<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fc8/1/16/1f440.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">👀</span></span>.
Joe has a death ate a cracker look to him. His number is hovering in
the 50s and 60s. The only thing I can do here, is to turn his pump off
for a couple of hours and pray to all that is good and holy that he
doesn't have a GI Bug.<br />
<br />
2:17 a.m. - The retching sounds let me know that the good and holy unleashed the bad and evil. <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f84/1/16/1f92e.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🤮</span></span> <br />
Since, we have checked blood sugars every 2 hours, ketone checks every 4
hours, hydrated and bolused insulin as aggressively as his BG allows.<br />
<br />
A GI illness can (and has) meant a trip to the ER for Joe. For a person
with t1d, GI illnesses, common colds, and influenza can be dangerous
and can lead to hospitalization and even death. <span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/getaflushot?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">getaflushot</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/washyourhands?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">washyourhands</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/stayhomewhenyouaresick?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">stayhomewhenyouaresick</span></span></a> <br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/makediabetesvisable?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">makediabetesvisable</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/t1d?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">t1d</span></span></a><br />
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="_3x-2" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div class="mtm">
<div class="_6o4 _1b5w clearfix _45vb _69f7 _5dec" id="u_jsonp_9_1e">
<div>
<span><span class=""><span><div class="_1c_u _4010" id="u_jsonp_9_1k">
<div class="_53j5" id="u_jsonp_9_1l" style="height: 290px; width: 516px;" tabindex="0">
<video class="_ox1 _21y0" controls="" data-ad-preview="video" data-video-height="290" data-video-width="516" height="290" id="u_jsonp_9_1m" preload="auto" src="https://video.fbed1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t42.4659-2/19044186_1307637746016249_3576202972826173440_n.mp4?_nc_cat=111&_nc_ht=video.fbed1-1.fna&oh=53e973fca8ba7013edb4d5e469701f9a&oe=5BE1D5BC" width="516"></video></div>
</div>
</span></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="_ipo">
<div class="_36_q">
<a class="_ipm _-56" data-comment-prelude-ref="action_link_bling" data-ft="{"tn":"O"}" data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-uri="/ufi/comment/tooltip/?ft_ent_identifier=10210692745269610&av=1678068051" href="https://www.facebook.com/reyna.maher/posts/10210692745269610?comment_tracking=%7B%22tn%22%3A%22O%22%7D" role="button">20 Comments</a></div>
</div>
<span class="_3t54" role="toolbar" tabindex="0"><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_7" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210692745269610&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_1" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210692745269610&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_2" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210692745269610&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a></span><a class="_2x4v" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210692745269610&av=1678068051" rel="ignore" role="button"><span class="_1g5v"><span data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-uri="/ufi/reaction/tooltip/?ft_ent_identifier=10210692745269610&av=1678068051">28</span></span></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-76712651113468604992018-11-04T08:48:00.000-05:002018-11-06T08:48:53.840-05:00#DAM Fall Back <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/theoneeye?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">theoneeye</span></span></a> <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f49/1/16/1f441.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">👁️</span></span><br />
<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f49/1/16/1f441.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
Many nights, that's all it requires; one eye. There's an internal
2-ish a.m. alarm in me. I wake. Eyes closed, I fumble for the phone on
my nightstand. My right eye reluctantly opens. It scans the Dexcom
app to make sure he is at an ok number.<br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
The app will alarm if he goes below 70 or above 300. I don't have it
on for other deviances, like if it loses signal or rapid drops and
climbs...if I did, it would alarm all.the.time.<br />
<br />
Last night was a good night to sleep. <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/thankful?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">thankful</span></span></a><br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/makediabetesvisible?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">makediabetesvisible</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/t1d?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">t1d</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/needtotweakbasalrate?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">needtotweakbasalrate</span></span></a><br />
<br />
T1d people change time on your pumps! <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f29/1/16/1f551.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🕑</span></span><span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f91/1/16/1f504.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🔄</span></span><br />
</div>
<div class="_3x-2" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div class="mtm">
<div style="position: relative;">
<div class="_1ktf" data-ft="{"tn":"E"}">
<a class="_4-eo _2t9n _50z9" data-ft="{"tn":"E"}" data-ploi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45415097_10210686002021033_8255942275612278784_o.jpg?_nc_cat=104&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=7a71f9326294c1d51968399772112547&oe=5C7EAEF6" data-plsi="https://scontent.fbed1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45359192_10210686002061034_4789855121724932096_n.jpg?_nc_cat=108&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-1.fna&oh=60d7d5dd480af29695a9241a43426957&oe=5C7EFB2F" data-render-location="timeline" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10210686001981032&set=a.1822315532483&type=3&eid=ARBgaAC8grNlN9Pu18cgqRgagG2JWyMvdKYVwnGUpOqhk9zJ88RAtQTdzvv_jfBDV16OpRV3LOylfUwM" rel="theater" style="width: 516px;"><div class="_46-h _517g" style="height: 774px; width: 516px;">
<img alt="No automatic alt text available." class="_46-i img" height="935" src="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/p526x296/45415097_10210686002021033_8255942275612278784_o.jpg?_nc_cat=104&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=8ec3f554e01b7414583f7076e10c3db7&oe=5C46DE19" style="left: -5px; top: 0px;" width="526" /></div>
</a></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="_ipo">
<div class="_36_q">
<a class="_ipm _-56" data-comment-prelude-ref="action_link_bling" data-ft="{"tn":"O"}" data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-uri="/ufi/comment/tooltip/?ft_ent_identifier=10210686002261039&av=1678068051" href="https://www.facebook.com/reyna.maher/posts/10210686002261039?comment_tracking=%7B%22tn%22%3A%22O%22%7D" role="button">1 Comment</a></div>
</div>
<span class="_3t54" role="toolbar" tabindex="0"><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_1" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210686002261039&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_2" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210686002261039&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a></span><a class="_2x4v" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210686002261039&av=1678068051" rel="ignore" role="button" tabindex="0"><span class="_1g5v"><span data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-uri="/ufi/reaction/tooltip/?ft_ent_identifier=10210686002261039&av=1678068051">33</span></span></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-45151558519631090222018-11-03T08:42:00.000-04:002018-11-06T08:42:34.058-05:00#DAM The 9 Lives of Joe<br />
I have many fears re: Joe and diabetes. One of them is he goes into an
empty locker room while low. I worry he'll lose consciousness and no
one will find him for awhile.<br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
A week, or so, ago...<br />
<br />
At the end of hockey practice, Joe headed into the locker room. His
Dexcom picked up his signal. The CGM app alarmed 43 and arrow diagonal
down.<br />
<br />
I sat on a bench in the rink's warm room, my eyes glued
to the locker room door ....hoping, wishing I'd see him any moment ..how
long should I wait? Another 2, 4, 5 minutes? Then what? Send in some
random guy to see if he's still conscious?<br />
<br />
<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f95/1/16/1f629.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😩</span></span>*Joe would KILL me* <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fbf/1/16/1f62c.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😬</span></span><br />
<br />
So, I waited some more. Then, finally, I saw him lumbering out of the locker room. My heart.<br />
<br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/makediabetesvisable?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">makediabetesvisable</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/t1d?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">t1d</span></span></a><br />
</div>
<div class="_3x-2" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div class="mtm">
<div style="position: relative;">
<div class="_1ktf" data-ft="{"tn":"E"}">
<a class="_4-eo _2t9n _50z9" data-ft="{"tn":"E"}" data-ploi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45320282_10210683059067461_108705729635942400_o.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=2a3c4a30f8c1e37a45be60e8929bd0aa&oe=5C87D0A4" data-plsi="https://scontent.fbed1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45452633_10210683059107462_538655118724169728_n.jpg?_nc_cat=111&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-1.fna&oh=2dc2152136fa4364d965eaa7eb2e78ac&oe=5C73030A" data-render-location="timeline" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10210683059027460&set=a.1822315532483&type=3&eid=ARCIgFV75nYbdhq-mdZtYEW2Qmlfj-8uvKOOI3d9_nhRlz8bf2VDOeVSJwUgCFUqE4E6R2ZgtynnbuhR" rel="theater" style="width: 516px;"><div class="_46-h _517g" style="height: 689px; width: 516px;">
<img alt="Image may contain: 1 person, standing, ocean, child, outdoor, water and nature" class="_46-i img" height="701" src="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/p526x296/45320282_10210683059067461_108705729635942400_o.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=097f664da6668281b44dc1ed15387156&oe=5C843F7A" style="left: -5px; top: 0px;" width="526" /></div>
</a></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<span class="_3t54" role="toolbar" tabindex="0"><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_1" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210683059267466&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_2" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210683059267466&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_3" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210683059267466&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a></span><a class="_2x4v" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210683059267466&av=1678068051" rel="ignore" role="button"><span class="_1g5v"><span data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-uri="/ufi/reaction/tooltip/?ft_ent_identifier=10210683059267466&av=1678068051"></span></span></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-36765049918809748092018-11-02T08:35:00.000-04:002018-11-06T08:36:31.282-05:00#DAM Broom Closet Bolusing While I admired his initiative, a broken insulin pump, mid-vacation, at 7:30pm, on a weekend is not a time for amateur hour.<br />
<br />
This past summer...during vacation...while we were eating dinner with family...<br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
Joe's pump failed. He excused himself from the dinner table to replace
the pump. He's been independently changing pump sites since he was 9.
So, when I heard the 'Mom, I need help!' yelled down the stairs, I was
surprised <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f2e/1/16/1f633.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😳</span></span>.<br />
<br />
As I entered the bedroom, Joe gave me the lowdown. He apparently tried
to change his pump, but the pump had malfunctioned, gave an error
message requiring a call to the company. Joe apparently looked up the
pump company's number on his phone. He called the pump company where he
and the representative attempted to revive the pump to no avail. <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f2e/1/16/1f633.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😳</span></span> I guess it was at this point the pump company rep realized Joe was a minor...<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f4e/1/16/1f644.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🙄</span></span><br />
<br />
'Mom, you need to call them back...they need to talk to someone over 18 to ship out a new pump.' <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fee/1/16/1f611.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😑</span></span><br />
<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f30/1/16/1f910.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f30/1/16/1f910.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🤐</span></span>(*#$ #@$& $@&#)<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f30/1/16/1f910.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🤐</span></span><br />
<br />
The abbreviated version of what transpired after: I called Omnipod. Pump was broken. <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fee/1/16/1f611.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😑</span></span> They overnighted one to us on vacation. Which was actually two days.. because late hour on a weekend day<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fe/1/16/1f622.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😢</span></span>. Luckily (or maybe not) I brought a 9 year old, discontinued "back-up" pump. <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fa3/1/16/1f61f.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😟</span></span> PROBLEM...pump LED light could only be barely seen in pitch-black broom closets<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f82/1/16/1f92c.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🤬</span></span>...and piston sounded bogged down (by sand?)<span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f30/1/16/1f635.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">😵</span></span>.
Anyways, I decide to go the shot route for basal insulin and plug him
into pump for boluses. PROBLEM...we didn't have basal insulin. Called
on-call MD for Lantus order. Ran to pharmacy to get Lantus and
syringes. Next two days consisted of broom closet bolusing <span class="_5mfr"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fb3/1/16/1f913.png"); font-size: 16px; height: 16px; width: 16px;">🤓</span></span>and a shot of Lantus.<br />
<span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz"> </span></span><br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/omnipod?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">omnipod</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/animas?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">animas</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/makediabetesvisible?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">makediabetesvisible</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/t1d?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">t1d</span></span></a> <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/travelingw?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">travelingw</span></span></a>/t1d<br />
</div>
<div class="_3x-2" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div class="mtm">
<div style="position: relative;">
<div class="_1ktf" data-ft="{"tn":"E"}">
<a class="_4-eo _2t9n _50z9" data-ft="{"tn":"E"}" data-ploi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45186791_10210676036851910_8270045552347971584_o.jpg?_nc_cat=104&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=f40a4ff779b341f07160b58a2b4fd75d&oe=5C775AF9" data-plsi="https://scontent.fbed1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45218030_10210676036811909_8418020515863592960_n.jpg?_nc_cat=109&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-1.fna&oh=bb304fc02838fe737d09c119c71382be&oe=5C85476C" data-render-location="timeline" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10210676036771908&set=a.1822315532483&type=3&eid=ARCB1jzsM56y24nbbBxZrJmcbYpr-boo8_iyFaIVDj-mVQipfSY_lgxid99pWhd6kcF1_MZpnBZjPxzI" rel="theater" style="width: 516px;"><div class="_46-h _517g" style="height: 689px; width: 516px;">
<img alt="Image may contain: one or more people, people standing, ocean, sky, outdoor, nature and water" class="_46-i img" height="701" src="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/p526x296/45186791_10210676036851910_8270045552347971584_o.jpg?_nc_cat=104&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=44a4a478e1cac084af9a7c0675fe19d6&oe=5C7B1F16" style="left: -5px; top: 0px;" width="526" /></div>
</a></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<span class="_3t54" role="toolbar" tabindex="0"><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_1" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210676037011914&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_2" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210676037011914&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a><a class="_3emk _401_" data-testid="ufi_bling_token_3" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210676037011914&av=1678068051" rel="dialog" role="button" tabindex="-1"><span class="_9zc _2p7a _4-op _3uet _4e-m"></span></a></span><a class="_2x4v" href="https://www.facebook.com/ufi/reaction/profile/browser/?ft_ent_identifier=10210676037011914&av=1678068051" rel="ignore" role="button"><span class="_1g5v"><span data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-uri="/ufi/reaction/tooltip/?ft_ent_identifier=10210676037011914&av=1678068051"></span></span></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-3978053178026941662018-11-01T08:31:00.000-04:002018-11-06T08:37:37.410-05:00#DAM It Is Not12
long years ago Diabetes Awareness month became a 'thing' I think about
on November 1st. He's living well. He's strong. He's grown up ahead
of his years. I don't say much about it these days, in part because
everyone has their 'thing'...know this, we are still here doing
fingersticks, counting carbs, dosing insulin, battling highs and lows
day in and out. We make it look easy. It is not.<br />
<br />
<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"type":104,"tn":"*N"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/makediabetesvisible?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cl _5afz">#</span><span class="_58cm">makediabetesvisible</span></span></a><br />
<br />
<div class="_3x-2" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div class="mtm">
<div class="_2_qm">
<div class="uiScaledImageContainer _35ph" style="height: 246px; width: 492px;">
<img alt="Reyna Tosta Maher's photo." class="scaledImageFitWidth img" height="492" src="https://scontent.fbed1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/p526x296/44077181_10210578558775019_3179585128410120192_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-1.fna&oh=2b60616c115da295f9f2c377bc712c65&oe=5C401A41" style="top: -61px;" width="492" /></div>
<a class="_2_qn" data-ploi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45174524_10210671977350425_8493618661897011200_o.jpg?_nc_cat=106&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=7b275ba8ea176934f875f3b9e3f09f81&oe=5C3C61C0" data-plsi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45161931_10210671977390426_7029290471889305600_n.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=926ef51761a47f7c836a16eddd41b81f&oe=5C408284" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10210671977310424&set=a.1301643876017&type=3" rel="theater"></a><br />
<div class="_19wj">
<a class="_2_qn" data-ploi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45174524_10210671977350425_8493618661897011200_o.jpg?_nc_cat=106&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=7b275ba8ea176934f875f3b9e3f09f81&oe=5C3C61C0" data-plsi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45161931_10210671977390426_7029290471889305600_n.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=926ef51761a47f7c836a16eddd41b81f&oe=5C408284" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10210671977310424&set=a.1301643876017&type=3" rel="theater"><img alt="" class="_s0 _4ooo _1x2_ _1ve7 _4nos img" src="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/p370x247/45161931_10210671977390426_7029290471889305600_n.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=2c5d1e0e116f613aac795d0596122b30&oe=5C4399F2" style="height: 364px; width: 364px;" /></a></div>
<a class="_2_qn" data-ploi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45174524_10210671977350425_8493618661897011200_o.jpg?_nc_cat=106&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=7b275ba8ea176934f875f3b9e3f09f81&oe=5C3C61C0" data-plsi="https://scontent.fbed1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/45161931_10210671977390426_7029290471889305600_n.jpg?_nc_cat=102&_nc_ht=scontent.fbed1-2.fna&oh=926ef51761a47f7c836a16eddd41b81f&oe=5C408284" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10210671977310424&set=a.1301643876017&type=3" rel="theater">
</a>1</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-51570861792415273342018-02-07T07:42:00.000-05:002018-02-07T07:48:27.981-05:00The MirrorAs we walked side-by-side through the parking garage into the hospital yesterday, his 6' frame towering over me...he said 'I don't really even think about having diabetes except on Endo days and sometimes when I have to check a number.'<br />
<br />
'Really?'<br />
<br />
'Yeah'<br />
<br />
He then went onto say something that briefly caused my eyes to sting. He said, 'it's weird, but when I look in the mirror...I don't see my POD anymore. I don't see the CGM. I just see me.' <br />
<br />
When Joe thinks of himself, he says diabetes doesn't even enter his definition of who he is.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDf9LlY1jxg/Wnrt0z4eKjI/AAAAAAAAIes/hjY8nhq6R50Ex7-oUKbEPJpkv8JGKPxbQCLcBGAs/s1600/MVIMG_20180206_105048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDf9LlY1jxg/Wnrt0z4eKjI/AAAAAAAAIes/hjY8nhq6R50Ex7-oUKbEPJpkv8JGKPxbQCLcBGAs/s640/MVIMG_20180206_105048.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The Endo appointment went well. Joe continues to do the majority of his care. He is an active high school freshman and manages to juggle school, being an athlete, and managing diabetes successfully. His A1C was 7. A fine number considering his growth and his independence.<br />
<br />
He turns 15 at the end of April. We discussed his drivers permit with his endocrinologist. You see, driving with diabetes adds another element of risk to just the act of driving. People with t1d need Medical Clearance Paperwork, in order to get their driver's permit or license. When Joe starts to drive, he should check a blood glucose prior to driving and every hour if he is driving for more than an hour's time. He should not drive unless his blood glucose is 90mg/dL, or higher. Driving low is more dangerous than driving inebriated.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure how I am doing with all of this. Actually, that's a lie. I do know how I've been doing. I've been fairly anxious. High school has been more of an adjustment for me...than for him; I think. I have had to back off as a hands-on pancreas and trust that I have taught him well. I have. Can I just say, at this age, sometimes having that damn Dexcom is a blessing and a curse all in one. Watching his blood sugar remotely can cause my mascara-fringed eyeballs to bulge outta their orbits when his number is tanking to the 40's, while he is at school or at a hockey practice. There isn't a darn thing I can do to help him. I watch. I wait. I worry, then I hope and I trust things will be OK.<br />
<br />
A day-in-the-life update.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-1694333751527744082017-11-10T17:33:00.002-05:002017-11-10T17:43:42.201-05:00He Should Do That, He Can Eat That, And His Diabetes May Vary<div>
<div>
Daily, I am reminded we each, each and everyone of us, have
our "thing". I believe most of us want others to understand, or attempt
to understand, our "thing". </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I want more
understanding and acceptance for Joe and all persons with t1d. The
daily care, attention, and psycho-social-emotional toll the disease
demands can be overwhelming. To an outsider we can look like we are
micromanaging things and making a bigger deal out of things than there
needs to be. Many people do not realize the attention to detail that
must occur, in order for things to run smoothly and safely for Joe
throughout his days...and his nights. Misinformation and
misunderstanding and subsequently the judgment of persons dealing with
this high maintenance chronic condition can be frustrating. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UbdoXecjpLU/WgYpFwpMQeI/AAAAAAAAHvI/7v9fnfrTT2kLfiuNXTxba9oJFnB1qGW_QCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UbdoXecjpLU/WgYpFwpMQeI/AAAAAAAAHvI/7v9fnfrTT2kLfiuNXTxba9oJFnB1qGW_QCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2922.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The following conversation took place a few weeks ago.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<b>"Hi, is this Joe's mother?"</b><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An apprehensive "yes", was answered.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>"This is Mrs. (blank), his (blank) teacher." </b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*Silence. He's never liked the subject matter this teacher teaches. I entered the conversation with trepidation.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>"I wanted to learn more about his type 1 diabetes."</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Ohhkay. What would you like to know about?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>"Well, it seems like he is doing a lot of 'stuff' for his diabetes during my class."</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Joe had just experienced a couple of weeks of low-ish numbers. So, this did not surprise me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"What time of day is he in your class?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>"At the end of the day."</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Oh
well that makes sense. He has been running a bit low and he most
likely is looking at his number and taking sugar. After school he
either walks a couple of miles home or he has hockey practice. He
typically would need to eat a snack for hockey and he might take some
sugar tablets prior to walking home... what have you seen him doing?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>"Yes..he
is taking some tablets and I have seen him eat. ..... I also overheard
him...and I didn't want to call him out in front of his friends...but he
was telling his friends how he drank a chocolate milk, some orange
juice, and he ate some Cheerios. I know that probably isn't good for
his diabetes and thought you should maybe know."</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*This is where I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am thankful this teacher called me and wanted to learn more*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"It's
totally fine if he eats those things. He would need to give himself
insulin for them to cover the carbohydrates. Sometimes, he uses those
foods to boost up his blood glucose or to treat a low."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>"Well,
it's just..that.... I have some friends who have diabetes.... It
seems like Joe is doing more work ...with his diabetes... than they do."</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*This is where I again, take a deep breath and remind myself of my gratefulness for her phone call*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I
think your friends may be a little bit older than Joe (like by 50 years) <like 40="" 50="" or="" years=""> <like 40-50="" maybe="" years=""> and they may not have the same type of diabetes, and
they are most likely not as active, and they may not be trying to keep
their blood sugar in the range that Joe is trying to keep his in. Each
person's diabetes can vary quite a bit."</like></like><br />
<br />
<br />
Teaching teacher about our day-in-the-life. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-76899694240792601002017-10-29T16:46:00.000-04:002017-10-30T06:37:08.050-04:00Some Ding Dang Blunt Honesty<div class="m_-9221878602060531547gmail-gs" style="margin-left: 44px;">
<div class="m_-9221878602060531547gmail-ii m_-9221878602060531547gmail-gt m_-9221878602060531547gmail-adP m_-9221878602060531547gmail-adO" id="m_-9221878602060531547gmail-:1jq" style="font-size: 12.8px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px;">
<div class="m_-9221878602060531547gmail-a3s m_-9221878602060531547gmail-aXjCH m_-9221878602060531547gmail-m15f2f01da5de8d25" id="m_-9221878602060531547gmail-:1jr">
<div dir="ltr">
What he was expressing isn't emoted often. It's rare for him to complain about t1d. He truly just goes about his day-in-the-life of teenager-hood like a teenager-y boy in a teenager-ish manner.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S7WmCR3O7TI/WfY8N2DXc1I/AAAAAAAAHqk/3XMzWAZ1IvsA9qXtvOwY6_KYTK5epR_dQCLcBGAs/s1600/83DCA734-A31F-4FB0-AB54-C54B2F314EA8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="976" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S7WmCR3O7TI/WfY8N2DXc1I/AAAAAAAAHqk/3XMzWAZ1IvsA9qXtvOwY6_KYTK5epR_dQCLcBGAs/s400/83DCA734-A31F-4FB0-AB54-C54B2F314EA8.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being a Teenager</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">About a week, or so, ago...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Perhaps
it was because he does most of his care now. Maybe it coulda been
because he was being a typical 14 year old boy. And it most definitely
could have been because I scheduled his annual lab draw, a flu shot, his
Endocrine appointment, and a 504 meeting all on the same day. I forget
- it's alot....type 1, it's management, and the crap that accompanies it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">He was slumped over and apparently taking a
"nap" during our 10 minute drive to his Endo appointment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">I was definitely resembling a chatty, perky, 40-something-year-old, mom-type as I rattled off questions with a brisk tongue; trying to engage in some sort of meaningful conversation with my boy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">He hardly responded to me, as in I mean there were moans, groans, and single syllable words used. I think I was annoying him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">'Joe aren't you happy you get today off of school?'</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">A ..'For sucky reasons' was mumbled.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">'It's not so bad.' An attempt to encourage him to be more positive was made.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Joe
then sat up straight and and then set me straight. 'I get to go get my
blood drawn, get a flu shot and see a doctor about a disease that I
don't want....I then get to go sit in a conference room ... with a bunch
of my teachers ... and discuss the disease that I don't want. It's
the worst.'</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">'I can think of
worse things.' I then mentioned something about death, death of
loved ones, and maybe squeaked in the death of his beloved dogs all
being way worse than his day with the disease that he doesn't want.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">His response...'it's the worst that I've experienced in my life, so far.'</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Good
point. I wish I'd keep my mouth shut sometimes. As we chiseled our
way through the diabetes "to do" list, his attitude improved. His A1C -
6.9. He had some insight into his 504 Plan and discussed it with his
team. He was back to "the Joe" I typically see. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Blunt honesty about his day-in-the-life.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-11207270452483100542017-09-03T13:24:00.001-04:002017-09-03T13:24:49.458-04:00Eye Protection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nyaVeK8G5P0/Waw6KK-5LeI/AAAAAAAAHXg/Q7Emk5YOqc82QBK4NqVBSVihNyU0J2iLgCLcBGAs/s1600/403D41BE-9F62-4070-A3C3-A83E6653B2A3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nyaVeK8G5P0/Waw6KK-5LeI/AAAAAAAAHXg/Q7Emk5YOqc82QBK4NqVBSVihNyU0J2iLgCLcBGAs/s640/403D41BE-9F62-4070-A3C3-A83E6653B2A3.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
How Joe makes bacon snacks. 😎<br />
<br />
A day-in-the-life of carb-free snacking.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-60443098129460730122017-07-20T16:50:00.000-04:002017-07-20T16:54:35.288-04:00They Don't Train You About This Stuff#theydonottrainyouforthisatdiagnosis<br />
#nightchecksdothematyourownrisk<br />
<br />
There was no time for a thought to flicker in my thought feed, as I dropped to the floor like a 140 pound sack of potatoes.<br />
<br />
Last week... <br />
<br />
It was 2-ish a.m. I had just checked Joe's blood sugar and turned off his bedside lamp and was traversing my way around and through what looked like laundry fields, hills, and mountains. The laundry - some piles clean, some dirty, and some were possibly unknown (clean or dirty or both) is a typical scene in Joe's room these days. He does his own laundry. I think he has a system?<br />
<br />
Back to me...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was maneuvering myself through the laundry landscape and came upon a crumpled up large blanket. I decided to walk on the blanket pile. The pile was large; it looked soft; it looked safe. One step onto the blanket and my right toes hooked into a metal laundry basket catapulting it up on end to impact my right shin, tripping me. The laundry basket then falls to the ground in time for the top metal edge to absorb the impact of my anterior thigh.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qjUX1-kHyp0/WXEYVfz2ucI/AAAAAAAAG4Q/RXiizx6piQcMctLRFhAyXNyonYZNaijwACLcBGAs/s1600/FullSizeRender%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qjUX1-kHyp0/WXEYVfz2ucI/AAAAAAAAG4Q/RXiizx6piQcMctLRFhAyXNyonYZNaijwACLcBGAs/s1600/FullSizeRender%25287%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Do not underestimate the impact of our day-in-the-life.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-69378766702451295862017-06-29T12:14:00.001-04:002017-06-29T12:17:23.615-04:00Confidence in the Desired OutcomeThe title...I think that means "hope". <br />
<br />
Where has the time gone? He is starting high school in the fall. He's been living with, living well with t1d for like 11 years now. I've been typing away on this blog on and off over the course of 7 years.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_qky_pDlwz8/WVLHrr3j9VI/AAAAAAAAEMw/39pex4bLFjk2TxWxXK5ncGdqk90DRMN3ACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2904.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="181" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_qky_pDlwz8/WVLHrr3j9VI/AAAAAAAAEMw/39pex4bLFjk2TxWxXK5ncGdqk90DRMN3ACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2904.PNG" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graduation from Middle School </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Woodchuck (I think normal people call it a "diabetes bag") has evolved from a camouflage-murse to a gray kinda-like messenger bag to a royal blue Nike string-strapped backpack. This new bag, well...it's not as convenient for me to assess supply needs, as everything is just jumbled up on the bottom. Joe prefers it though. It looks like what many of his friends carry.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ELEOzh-QdQg/WVUmMIGvq8I/AAAAAAAAENk/whJDf7XNu2sOtXbcr5Qa-5t8EfX51YaPwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ELEOzh-QdQg/WVUmMIGvq8I/AAAAAAAAENk/whJDf7XNu2sOtXbcr5Qa-5t8EfX51YaPwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2906.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NIKE Woodchuck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
He wears a medical ID now; dog tags. It's a must as he traverses the community without me present. I expressed the importance of
having some sort of identification on him...you know, in case. It's
hard to phrase things like you might need help if you go so low that you
can't talk...a.k.a. you are unconscious or maybe having a seizure...So I just kinda mumble through those moments. He knows. He knows he may need help at some point. The ID is worn daily; no reminders needed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Joe. Joe seems pretty typical to me. He is checking his blood sugar regularly. He boluses for snacks and meals. He doesn't appear uncomfortable with his diabetes-ness. His CGM and POD are on his arms. They are visible often. He performs his care in front of his peers. This is where I think an early diagnosis maybe has helped us; helped Joe. He knows no different. Having "something" has been his norm.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Me. I go from this elated feeling of 'WOW...he's a teenager and he's still doing pretty well with the daily grind of managing t1d.' My life has gone from micro-managing blood glucose levels, carb counting, bolusing, pump-site inserting, CGM inserting, blood sugar boosting 24/7 x 365. Now, I assist with CGM insertions only. Joe does the rest. Occasionally, I check in on his self care with a "what's your number?" or a "did you bolus?". I am pleasantly surprised by his response to a "how many carbs are you counting that as?" and his reply is within 5 grams of my calculation. There is a huge relief in all of this. He can participate in sports, solo, with minor d'-sasters here and there; these are learning experiences. Each season he becomes better and better at handling the rigors of t1d and activity. I say all of these things and then it sneaks in; the fear. Fear of nights, of driving, of college. Eleven years ago, when he was 3, I couldn't imagine us here. He is thriving. This is what I hold onto as I look forward to the next several years.<br />
<br />
A day-in-the-life of hope...confidence that Joe will grow up happy and healthy and live a long life. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-41376609717486030592017-06-27T16:12:00.000-04:002017-06-27T16:12:42.843-04:00The Exam Table<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There was a time I had to lift him up to the exam table. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-js2r_P32gCk/WVK7CVhkD7I/AAAAAAAAEMg/jif_HsT0F-4_5B9FJ2drzgotYAaN08hzACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-js2r_P32gCk/WVK7CVhkD7I/AAAAAAAAEMg/jif_HsT0F-4_5B9FJ2drzgotYAaN08hzACEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_2896.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
His A1C was 7.1%. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
An 8:15 a.m. appointment, during his first week of summer vacation, was not a cool start to his day-in-the-life. 😀</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-23779833570086906612017-06-27T16:03:00.000-04:002017-06-27T16:03:05.351-04:00...On A Stick<div>
As he stumbled to the pantry for a juice box, an 'I feel like a butt cheek on a stick' was heard.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
'What's your number?'</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
'38'<br />
<br />
A teenage boy's description of a low in the day-in-the-life. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-52984176463117484502017-05-25T17:29:00.000-04:002017-05-25T17:31:54.916-04:00Letting Go ... A Bit More<div>
Sometimes I feel like this d' mom business is like being drug down a path, not of my choosing - mind you, by my 4th toenail; I claw and scratch and dig at the earth in resistance. I worry. Many times I feel alone with that worry, as it can be belittled by those who don't truly understand the nuances of t1d.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oUXw9qtKO44/WSdL6rrJTqI/AAAAAAAAD3I/AcVnzIwxDuEouI4g0ExxA7Uxt1jRb4glwCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="214" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oUXw9qtKO44/WSdL6rrJTqI/AAAAAAAAD3I/AcVnzIwxDuEouI4g0ExxA7Uxt1jRb4glwCLcB/s400/FullSizeRender%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yesterday...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Maybe it's because he hasn't really ran this far before.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe it's because it's a crowded and chaotic event.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe it's because we really have no experience with basal reduction and carb boosting with distance running.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe it's the logistics of him running 5.3 miles out and then needing to take a shuttle, on his own, to get back to the finish line. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe it's because I'm running the whole marathon and I won't be able to get to him easily if he needs help.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My friend offered Joe a leg in the <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.vermontcitymarathon.org/&source=gmail&ust=1495833618263000&usg=AFQjCNE7bHCuJH81ohCAskGvB4uw_qD8Sg" href="https://www.vermontcitymarathon.org/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">Vermont City Marathon</span></a>. It is taking place <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1242168592" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ"><span style="color: #222222;">this Sunday</span></span></span>. I am registered to run the marathon and Bridget is going to do a half marathon. It's a big event for Burlington, Vermont. The news has been broadcasting updates on the weather and marathon details for over a week now. Downtown Burlington is congested with thousands and thousands of people: runners, spectators, and volunteers. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When my friend asked Joe about the leg, I was sitting in between her and Joe. Joe perked up and confirmed he would like to run the leg. I kinda did a grumbly-mumbly under my breath 'uhm...we aren't really prepared for him to run a leg.'</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My friend: 'Oh don't worry my kids haven't done that distance either.'</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Me: 'No...d...ddiabetes."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I felt bad for even saying that. I don't think Joe heard me. Yes, I have always tried to show him he can do anything despite having diabetes. He has....but...I've always been there. I've been there with sugar sources, back-up supplies, and a brain that can make split decisions about bolusing, boosting, and adjusting pump settings. This will be a 5 mile jog without his parents close by, but surrounded by thousands of people...and aid stations...and even medical stations...and there is even a race tracking app. I guess it's as good of an event as any to let go a bit more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Last night..</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
'OK..you can do it, but you need to have sugar with you, your phone with you...and you have to wear your medical ID.'</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
'I will Mom.'</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-36904411068648686062017-03-06T17:17:00.000-05:002017-03-06T17:19:23.196-05:00The Game5:18 am - no signal on his CGM.<br />
<br />
I should check him. If he is high, there is plenty of time to correct; a little over 5 hours. I was careful not to wake him. He needs his sleep; especially today. I lifted his ring finger and pressed the lancing device firm to his finger tip, hoping to avoid the need for multiple pokes to get a blood drop. He was 386. Not a great number. I corrected and plodded out of his room and down the stairs.<br />
<br />
Was the ringing tinnitus? Or his POD? I went to the bottom of the stairway and didn't hear anything, so assumed it was me and my aging ears.<br />
<br />
5:38 am - Joe came down the stairs. The ringing was his POD; it failed. The beeping from the POD woke him. He's up. It's game day. It's State Championship game day. I hate diabetes.<br />
<br />
Joe changed his POD. We bolused for the portion of the correction not given, due to the failure. Joe ate; bolused for that too.<br />
<br />
Around 8am - BG remained 386; a correction was given. There was still 3 hours until game time.<br />
<br />
9:30-ish am - BG 156. Two juice boxes (44grams CHO) were chugged in the car en route to the rink.<br />
<br />
10:10 - BG 171. Skittles (a fistful) was consumed.<br />
<br />
10:50 - BG 263. A good place to be for Joe to play the game.<br />
<br />
All this work. *sigh*<br />
<br />
All this work...he endures daily.<br />
<br />
He went down in the first eight minutes or so of the game. His hip had been an issue the prior week. It popped while he was skating and he went down. The game was paused, while he removed himself from the ice. He hobbled off the ice, off the bench, and into the locker room. When I got to him...tears. He was removing his pads; they were forcefully chucked into his bag. Win or lose, more than anything else... he wanted to be playing with his team. He watched the remainder of the game from the bench. His team was the Runner Up for the State of VT; they lost the state championship 2-1.<br />
<br />
I wish I didn't feel like this. I wish I could just write that we've got this. I wish I could say we are warriors and nothing gets us down. Frankly, I'm disappointed for him. And. I feel a bit bitter. He endures enough...just to get to the stupid game. Sorry.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PPqwc0uuwOA/WL3fnl-iabI/AAAAAAAAD2c/RDSpbnW81_8_104QL71UetZcewK2iooWQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PPqwc0uuwOA/WL3fnl-iabI/AAAAAAAAD2c/RDSpbnW81_8_104QL71UetZcewK2iooWQCLcB/s400/IMG_1961.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
His blood sugar after the game, after all those carbs and then not skating...126. Nice.<br />
<br />
Kinda pissed off about the day-in-the-life. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-16197256944273444862017-02-06T06:00:00.000-05:002017-02-06T06:00:20.154-05:00I'm a Checker, but not a Mice Checker...Yo<div>
A few days ago.. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Pre-post note: We are currently besieged by mice. Traps are set in the basement and the main level of our home. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
The words "GI BUG" scare the BeJeezus outta even the most resilient, calm, cool, and collected of d' rents. Joe currently has one. I was up at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_545229096" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">3 am</span></span> ... <b>checking</b> a blood glucose, ketones, and then bolusing insulin.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As Dave woke, I updated him on the night care provided.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Me: "I <b>checked</b> his BG...high 200s, ketones were OK...I've bolused twice over the last three hours."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Him: "What about the mice?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Me: "What?"</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vz6IAT9oKvg/WJUViCgx2WI/AAAAAAAAD1s/OvV2NgxbA88qb7oilSOjm_cS9vBgHZMYwCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vz6IAT9oKvg/WJUViCgx2WI/AAAAAAAAD1s/OvV2NgxbA88qb7oilSOjm_cS9vBgHZMYwCLcB/s400/FullSizeRender%25286%2529.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sick Joe with Oscar. Miniature Schnauzers are supposed to be mousers! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Him: "Did you <b>check</b> the mice?" (<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">referring to our traps)</span></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Me: "I'm the ketone <b>checker</b>; you're the mice <b>checker</b>."</div>
<br />
<br />
Checking in on the day-in-the-life, but not on the mice. 😱<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-44215490932334751742017-02-03T06:00:00.000-05:002017-02-03T06:00:07.546-05:00Maturi-D'<div>
Over the years, I've tried to teach him the proper way to do
things. A healthy diet was discussed and modeled. But... he did his
own thing, choosing to eat from the "Brown and Beige Club" for years -
chips, bread, mac and cheese, chips, crackers. Now, lean meats and
vegetables are consumed regularly. Blood glucose checks were encouraged
multiple times daily. This has been his routine for the most part, but
with some nagging. Rotating pump sites, took years; like 9 to be
exact.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
The lumps and bumps are persistent in one
arm; his right. Until this last year, he used the backs of his arms
exclusively for pump sites and CGM sites. He was reluctant to try a new
area. Reluctant should be translated as "refused". <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Several
months ago, Joe first found these lumps. I explained it was most
likely due to lack of site rotation - lipohypertrophy. I encouraged
rotation, but didn't say much more. A few weeks later...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_UBEiFOScTY/WJJaD4DVVZI/AAAAAAAAD1M/IKkol2cqAm8mClyY0wFcXOyk0fqxzylHgCLcB/s1600/IMG_1811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_UBEiFOScTY/WJJaD4DVVZI/AAAAAAAAD1M/IKkol2cqAm8mClyY0wFcXOyk0fqxzylHgCLcB/s400/IMG_1811.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
A little more maturity in the day-in-the-life.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-5850428979419820662017-02-01T16:52:00.001-05:002018-11-29T05:03:09.596-05:00Growin' Up D'<div>
Just like when you questioned their ability to one day pee and poo
on the potty, to feed themselves using a utensil, or to tie a shoelace, a
parent of a child with t1d questions the ability of their child to
perform the tasks involved in managing t1d, independently. The tasks
are one thing. They are fairly straight forward. First do "this", then
"this", and then "this". This approach can be used to teach checking a
blood glucose, carb counting, and delivering a bolus of insulin. There
is a whole other level to managing t1d; the critical thinking aspect.
If "this", then "this", but if "this", then think of "this" and then try
"this", but do "this" if "this" is happening. This is much more difficult and challenging to impart.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
About a week ago...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
In
an early morning hour, I entered the kitchen. The blood ketone monitor
and a scrumpled strip wrapper was laying on the island. When Dave
woke, I asked him about it. He didn't use it. Eventually, Joe woke.
He explained it. He decided to check ketones before going to bed the
night before. He had been in the 300's all day (due to a cold) and was
in the 400's prior to going to bed. He thought it would be a good idea.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When
he was diagnosed at three, the thought of teaching him how to check a
blood glucose seemed unattainable. It happened...when he was four.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The thought of him learning to bolus was overwhelming. Again, it happened...when he was five.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Carb counting seemed out of the question. It, too, occurred ... I think it was when he was 7-ish or 8-ish.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Pump site changes... yup...he started those when he was 9.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The
previously mentioned tasks are just that. They are tasks. They are
the foundation of managing t1d. The next level is where the critical
thinking skills come in: managing activity, managing illness, managing
pump settings. We are at this point now. He's doing it. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SadtOfD0xu0/WJJYQyMX-8I/AAAAAAAAD1A/-0pXo8EUEdUbesHTNM0du4b9VmfBCCviQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SadtOfD0xu0/WJJYQyMX-8I/AAAAAAAAD1A/-0pXo8EUEdUbesHTNM0du4b9VmfBCCviQCLcB/s400/IMG_1995.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Independence and it's progression in the day-in-the-life.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-63587732190425230002017-01-27T18:09:00.001-05:002017-01-27T18:26:26.715-05:00Feelin' "Got"<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">I'm not sure if isolation quite describes
it. I suppose it is a feeling of loneliness and of feeling misunderstood. Today, I didn't feel that
way. Today, I felt "got". Today, my eyes teared up as I read an email
from one of Joe's teachers. This email was not in response to any
recent issues. It was an unexpected email of praise for Joe. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">A portion:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">'I
can only imagine how challenging it is to live each day with diabetes,
and the impacts it has on Joe's personal and academic life. And, as if
managing the health aspects of it isn't enough in itself, he also has to
learn how to advocate for himself and build new coping skills to manage
it's impact on all aspects of his life. I see so much growth in these
areas as well.' </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">The
blood sugar checking, the carb counting, and the insulin dosing are one
thing. Sure, at times, the numbers cause physical discomfort. Yes,
the management, the needles hurt. The thing about diabetes is... the
actual disease and the management are so enmeshed and interconnected
throughout our days and our nights that it is impacted by just about
everything; it impacts just about everything.</span><br />
<br />
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5MBP6b5bH-c/WIvSrU4xsZI/AAAAAAAAD0o/ztdzYmZePEAqXjFYtR6Tl9MzFNAzTkP-ACLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5MBP6b5bH-c/WIvSrU4xsZI/AAAAAAAAD0o/ztdzYmZePEAqXjFYtR6Tl9MzFNAzTkP-ACLcB/s400/FullSizeRender%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
</div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Proud of Joe and how he handles his day-in-the-life.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-29869580141084389192017-01-20T17:14:00.001-05:002017-01-21T06:48:15.530-05:00Chromebook Confiscation<div>
NOTE: Joe does not have a Chromebook Confiscation history.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
knew, over the years, we'd run into difficulties of not being
understood. Sure. We all deal with that in our day-in-the-life. I
guess I didn't think I'd be saying things like this to an educator:
'Not only is his access to his school day limited by treating and
waiting out lows, but to take away his Chromebook for the remainder of
the school day, because of his medical condition... limits his access
further.' My voice was measured. My temper in check. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The
blood sugar checking, the carb counting, and the insulin dosing are one
thing. Sure, at times, the numbers cause physical discomfort. Yes,
the management, the needles hurt. The thing about diabetes is... the
actual disease and the management are so enmeshed and interconnected
throughout our days and our nights that it is impacted by just about
everything; also, it impacts just about everything. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ag89jRuj_cg/WIKK74XOs4I/AAAAAAAAD0U/26LFbtmWsysxK75fwReE7gvsEVnyKUJVACLcB/s1600/IMG_2097.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ag89jRuj_cg/WIKK74XOs4I/AAAAAAAAD0U/26LFbtmWsysxK75fwReE7gvsEVnyKUJVACLcB/s400/IMG_2097.PNG" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
About a month ago...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Joe
experienced a school day riddled with lows; blood sugars hovered from
the 50's to the 70's. He spent some time in the Health Office, but for
the most part he remained in the classroom. At one point in his day, he
left his Chromebook in a hallway. He forgot it as he was dealing with
another low. The Chromebook was confiscated for the remainder of the
school day. It was confiscated because it was unattended.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At
the end of the school day, Joe visited the Chromebook Confiscator and
let him know he had a medical issue that caused the infraction leading to
the "confiscation". The Chromebook Confiscator made Joe promise it
would not happen again. Joe promised. His Chromebook was given back to
him.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Within a week's time...a week where lows
were plaguing his days and nights...again, the Chromebook was
confiscated by the Chromebook Confiscator. Joe went to gym class. He
placed his binder and his Chromebook on a bench in the locker room; not
in his locker like the students have been instructed to do. You see, he
was nervous about going low during gym. The shakiness of his hands
make maneuvering a combination lock challenging; making access to his
belongings quite difficult. Even if a low was treated, it could take 15
to 20 minutes for him to feel better, for the shakiness to subside.
Joe did end up low. His Chromebook, gone from the locker room
bench...taken away for the rest of the school day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So,
it is at this point... at Chromebook Confiscation #2 that I stepped
in. Joe needed an advocate. He was missing class due to
managing low blood sugars AND the only mechanism to access his work
electronically, at school, was being taken away from him. It was being
taken away from him because of diabetes, none-the-less. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I
spoke with the Chromebook Confiscator. I explained Joe's medical
condition. I explained how low blood sugars can impact executive
functioning. I explained when he feels low, he needs to treat the low
promptly. The Chromebook Confiscator's solution was when Joe feels low,
he could walk his Chromebook to his locker and then treat the low.
Tears, while not yet visible, could be heard in my voice. 'You aren't
understanding me. He should not have extra steps added into his routine
when he feels low. He needs to treat the low...not walk to a
locker...unlock a locker...and place his Chromebook in the locker.' </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So,
then the Chromebook Confiscator proposed, Joe not even have a
Chromebook. He proposed a desktop be provided for Joe in each classroom
he attends: Math, Social Studies, Spanish, English, Science...I
explained firmly, this was not an option. Not only was the proposal
just plain wrong, but hey...let's make Joe feel even MORE different...
he has a pump, a CGM, sees the nurse multiple times daily...oh and let's add ...
there's the kid who has to use the desktop computer in FIVE different
classrooms. Awesome. Ugh. The conversation left me feeling alone,
misunderstood, and questioning myself. Am I asking too much? Am I
over-complicating things? It also left me feeling a bit sorry for Joe
and for myself. Why can't things just be easy? This life, of managing
t1d, is difficult enough.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the end, Joe's
School Nurse and the Principal met. A sticker was placed on Joe's
Chromebook that states something like "If found, return to the Nurse." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Chromebook Confiscator disrupting our day-in-the-life.</div>
<div>
'</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-59928429352126009322017-01-17T07:00:00.000-05:002017-01-17T07:00:13.980-05:00Night Shift<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y1Pw6RXfjh4/WH0-0m9AA0I/AAAAAAAAD0A/-bdSg0B2m4c0CE6Z47ZhQP2QMyDiu_RPgCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y1Pw6RXfjh4/WH0-0m9AA0I/AAAAAAAAD0A/-bdSg0B2m4c0CE6Z47ZhQP2QMyDiu_RPgCLcB/s400/FullSizeRender%25283%2529.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least he piled up the juice boxes neatly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The above is the scene that greeted me, as I went in to wake him a few weeks ago.<br />
<br />
'Joe, the juices are not for snacking on.'<br />
<br />
'I was low in the middle of the night.'<br />
<br />
'Three times?!'<br />
<br />
'Yes.'<br />
<br />
Over the years, people have asked me ... 'When will Joe start taking care of his diabetes during the night?' These people are well intentioned. I've been pretty adamant that Joe sleep when he can. Diabetes keeps him up enough. He wakes, at times, when he is poked. He wakes, at times, when I am cramming a juice straw into his mouth. He wakes, at times, to the beeps from a pump failure.<br />
<br />
He is a growing teenager. His energies should be focused on school, sports, friends, video games....and other teenager-y things. He needs his sleep for typical growth and development. I have slept with the CGM by my bedside, nightly, for years. It alarms, I wake, I take care of what needs taking care of.<br />
<br />
On the three-juice-low-night, Dave checked Joe prior to bed ... and accidentally left the CGM in Joe's room. While I found it reassuring that the alarm woke the sleeps-like-the-dead-Joe, I will still cover the night shift. I know, one day ... soon enough, he will need to manage that, as well. For now, it will continue to be me.<br />
<br />
More on on our day-in-the-life of nights.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-16752702130359650412017-01-16T16:31:00.000-05:002017-01-16T16:31:18.983-05:00Choke It DownA couple of weeks ago, after a hockey game, Joe bought an apple strudel-y muffin from the rink snack bar. He was going to eat it on our 30 minute trip home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nCuWQjwSNS8/WH07Jeyy-8I/AAAAAAAADz0/4UJv3kuHi3kCkTs2GD_b0uKo4BNKpcPYgCLcB/s1600/IMG_1964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nCuWQjwSNS8/WH07Jeyy-8I/AAAAAAAADz0/4UJv3kuHi3kCkTs2GD_b0uKo4BNKpcPYgCLcB/s400/IMG_1964.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
'My number is 223...60 grams..I'm not going to correct, but will cover the muffin.'<br />
<br />
A 5.5 unit bolus was then cranking into his subcutaneous tissue to cover this muffin ... which he hadn't yet tasted. I chimed in with a 'I sure hope you like it.'<br />
<br />
'If I don't, I can either cancel the bolus and drink a juice ... or ... I'll just have to choke it down.'<br />
<br />
A day-in-the-life of knowing you may have to 'choke in down'.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-64112515245524524922017-01-16T16:17:00.001-05:002017-01-16T17:17:24.782-05:00School Nurse CallAt about 3pm, the end of the school day, a few days ago... I received a call from Joe's school nurse. She notified me of a recent low; he treated. He left school without re-checking his blood glucose; he didn't want to miss his ride home. <br />
<br />
'Ok...so your telling me to call him and make sure he makes it home alive (laughter) ... and if he doesn't, I won't hold you responsible.' Laughter closed the conversation between Joe's school nurse and I.<br />
<br />
These are the things you say, cuz they are kinda true. He's meandering the community, alone...sometimes low. At times, I just gotta have blind faith that he'll be alright. He knows what to do. I have taught him well. And. I also realize..there could be times, he may not be ok. There are no guarantees with anything in this life; certainly not with t1d.<br />
<br />
I called him.<br />
<br />
'You ok?'<br />
<br />
'Yeah. I'm 120s. I didn't want to miss my ride..'<br />
<br />
Conversations with the school nurse while dealing with the day-in-the-life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6177432865376147686.post-27467009235404714842017-01-03T17:04:00.000-05:002017-01-03T17:04:39.528-05:00Meatloaf<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Joe cut this meatloaf-loaf into thirds this morning. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hKaUVWJjnfA/WGwbgG4jtrI/AAAAAAAADzQ/9g1psv7ZCWYEfYQnANBmY8U-LgI_bp1aACEw/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hKaUVWJjnfA/WGwbgG4jtrI/AAAAAAAADzQ/9g1psv7ZCWYEfYQnANBmY8U-LgI_bp1aACEw/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meatloaf pic added for comic relief.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
His plan; take a 1/3 of the loaf to school for lunch each day over the next few days. <br />
<br />
We no longer use the "<a href="https://www.scribd.com/doc/25909098/Scan-0002" target="_blank">daily log</a>".<br />
<br />
We transitioned to a scrap of paper for carb counts; he says he doesn't need it, but it gives me some sense of security.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T3OmUX6JBas/WGwdgSzzPxI/AAAAAAAADzY/_QMJCWm1Qvc2Xn1KIXl4MMm-VrLJR91vACLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T3OmUX6JBas/WGwdgSzzPxI/AAAAAAAADzY/_QMJCWm1Qvc2Xn1KIXl4MMm-VrLJR91vACLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
A less micro-managed day-in-the-life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895126112651188056noreply@blogger.com0