* Arnold and Me *

24 Weeks: Tunnel Vision

2012-02-10T08:13:00.001-06:00

I am 24 weeks pregnant this week. And the cruel reality that I'm 6 months pregnant but I have 4 to go has hit me. Even though I'm over halfway through this pregnancy, I feel like I have a long way to go. Namely because I discussed my labor plans with my OB and endo this week, which means I have to think about her actually being here and that stresses me out because the only thing we've done is paint her room. (Actually, Trey painted. I'm banned from all paint fumes, and thus her room for the next few days.) This post is rather long, so I'll try to break it up into each appointment to give any readers proper intermission breaks.

OB:

My OB appointment last week was filled with more questions on my part. I'm pretty sure I talked more than my OB, but he's a patient guy and willing to indulge me for my sanity. The appointment started out the same as all the others: pee in this cup, step on this scale (I'm up 20 lbs total), sit here while we take your blood pressure (122/70). This was the first appointment where Trey didn't accompany me, and it felt weird. I told him he was welcome to come to any appointments he wanted, but he was busy with grad school shenanigans so I was flying solo this trip. The nurse used the Doppler to find my little monkey's heartbeat, which was whump-whumping at 163 bpm. She cooperated a little more this time, but I think she's running out of room to escape the intrusive wand.

The doctor came in and he immediately noticed my list of questions on my iPod sitting in my lap. "Go ahead. Fire away." The first thing I asked him was the plan for the rest of my appointments going forward. He said the plan is to keep seeing me once a month until 28 weeks, then I'll go to every 2 weeks until 36 weeks. After that I'll be going once a week to check my cervix (sorry, TMI) and baby's position for upcoming labor. In addition, I'll also be doing non-stress tests 2-3 times a week starting at 37 weeks. So for the last month of my pregnancy, I'll be camping at the doctor's office at least 3 times a week. (I think I'm gonna go ahead and start my maternity leave then, because I'll be spending more time with the doctor than at my own office.)

The next thing I asked about was the plans for labor. My OB said the current plan for me is to get to at least 39 weeks, but he will not let me go past 40 weeks. He doesn't want me going into labor on my own. Considering my mother didn't go into labor with me and my brother until 43 and 42 weeks, respectively (What were doctors in the 70s and 80s thinking, anyway?!), it's a good assumption that I will be induced. His reasoning for this is that he wants to keep an eye on my numbers from start to finish. I'm sure I'll do that on my own, especially with a CGM, but he'll be able to give me guidance on insulin dosage depending on what stage of labor I'm in. He also wants me to keep my pump on during labor (thank you! thank you! thank you!), and I'll be allowed to treat lows at my leisure with juice or whatever to eat (so no glucose drip, yes!).

At first, I was kinda "eh" about not being able to go into labor on my own. I'm not a natural childbirth advocate or anything, and I've already said that is not the most important thing to me. But I hate feeling like I don't even have the option. But such is the life with diabetes. Bottom line: there are certain things I'll never be able to do because of this stupid disease like join the military, become an astronaut (even though my friend April is going to break that rule), and be allowed to have a granola experience with child birthing. Now that I've had a few days to think it over, I'm at peace with this plan. I'm more comfortable with things being planned in advance, and I know my doctor won't force my body to do something it's not ready for (I do trust him, by the way). And I'd rather have time to get used to being induced and research it before that day arrives. So it looks like May 28th is the absolute latest for my girl's birthday, or earlier depending upon induction date.

ENDO:

I also had an endo appointment yesterday. I knew my numbers were still solid, but I didn't expect to hover around the 5.1% A1c I had last time. In fact, my A1c crept up to 5.4%. The nurse assured me that this is still a good number for pregnancy, but it's obvious that my insulin resistance is beginning. I've increased my basal rates by 3 units this week alone. But I also know that my number of lows has decreased dramatically. So I'm taking this increase as a sign that things are settling out more than "OMG, need more insulin now!" And I'm all for less lows.

My endo and I discussed my numbers and my recent ER visit. I told him my OB's plan for inducing me, and I asked him if he had any plans, insulin wise, that I should be aware of. I was a little surprised, because my endo told me that once I start having contractions I should suspend my pump. *insert confused face here* He explained that the uterus is one big muscle, and once it starts contracting it's like going through one long workout. And I always suspend my pump if I'm going to workout, so the logic makes sense. I just can't imagine going through such diabetes maintenance for 9 (10!) months just to say "Goodbye, pump! See you in a few hours!" He said even if I suspend my pump, it's still possible for me to see a lot of lows. I'm still wrapping my head around this plan, and a lot of it will be making decisions hour-by-hour. But right now I'm still walking around whispering "No pump? No pump?" I'm sure people think I need a white jacket.

FINALLY:

And finally, I have one big concern that's bothering me: my belly button. I've always been sensitive about my belly button. I don't like anyone to touch it because it feels weird, like a dead sensation where there's no nerve endings but I know someone's touching and I don't like it! It drives Trey crazy because he thinks I have a cute belly button, especially now because it's pushing out into an outie. Well, it's like a half-outie at this point. The top part is pushing out, making my stomach look like a face with no eyes or mouth and a weird looking nose. And so that dead feeling is a constant because my belly button is rubbing on my tight shirts and maternity pants. I know that pregnant bellies are beautiful and people want to touch them, but I'm not liking this, not one bit.

My (whoa!) belly with said half-outie.

So to recap: baby is still in there (she moves all the time!) and doing great, both of my doctors are aware of the plan for the rest of my pregnancy and potential labor, and my expanding belly is sporting an outie belly button. I hope you've enjoyed this super long post, because I need a potty break (something I'm doing every hour I'm awake).

Don't be Afraid to Pee

2012-02-07T08:58:00.000-06:00

Well, this post is by far the most embarrassing post I've ever written. It seems that everything is on high alert with a diabetic pregnancy, or maybe just in my mind. But the two questions my OB always asks me at my appointments are "Any bleeding?" and "Any loss of fluid?" I didn't really understand what "loss of fluid" was, so I asked a nurse to clarify. "Oh, it will feel like you peed yourself." Lovely. So be prepared for an extremely TMI post.

This past Sunday, I was sitting in church and listening to the sermon, which was titled "Do Not be Afraid". We're currently doing a sermon series on trusting God and not being afraid of death, rejection, etc. When we stood up to sing the last song, I felt this "gush" of liquid. I turned to Trey and said, "I'm going to the bathroom". I'm sure he thought I was doing the typical pregnancy thing of going to the bathroom every hour or something.

In the bathroom, I checked but couldn't tell if anything was wrong. I called the on-call doctor as soon as we got out, and he said it might be urine but said to keep an eye on it for the rest of the day. If it was my water leaking, it would be continuous and not one time. Having my water break this early is a scary thing because it means my baby would have to be delivered within 24 hours, not OK with me! So I cautiously went about my day, cleaning the house for a Super Bowl party. I also laid down for a nap later, and still no more "gushing", thankfully.

I called my doctor's office the next day (yesterday) to see if he confirmed the on-call doctor's instructions. And I wanted to at least let him know that I had this issue. He said if it happened again to go straight to the hospital to be monitored. I wasn't sure if I could take this as a relief or instruction to be more cautious and aware.

Yesterday, I went about my day, trying to ignore what didn't happen the day before. I took the dogs for a walk, and Trey and I went to dinner with some friends. When we got home, I tried to decipher if things were more "wet" than normal. It could have seemed like more from sweat from my walk or more pee or more whatever. I finally settled to just go to the ER and have them check me out, since that was my doctor said to do if I felt that it occurred again.

After being admitted, putting on a gown, getting hooked up to a fetal monitor, and answering the bazillion questions required to be admitted as a patient. They took a swab to test to see if what I was experience was my water leaking or something more embarrassing but less scary.

I hung out in my labor and delivery room (somewhere I didn't expect to be for very long time) and watched Castle while I waited for the results. It was getting really late at this point, and I started to feel silly for creating an ordeal for something that is probably all in my head. The nurse came back and said, "Well, it's not amniotic fluid."

So they let me go home with instructions to come back if I felt anything like that again and assurance that I did the right thing. That helped, because I was feeling extremely embarrassed for spending two hours in the ER over the fact that I simply peed myself.

I Still Get Scared

2012-02-02T11:19:00.000-06:00

You'd think being 23 weeks pregnant with a lively, kicking baby would make me feel like I'm "in the clear" as far as anything happening to her or losing her. But I admit that I still get scared, of what I don't know. I just never fully shook the feelings of the first trimester when I was in the "danger zone" until that first appointment. I felt good after that appointment, until a few days before the next one. The day and morning before an appointment, I'm a wreck. I am so overcome with anxiety and worry. "Is she still OK in there? Is she getting too big? Is she too small? Why haven't I felt her move in awhile? Is that stubborn high from last night going to do something to her?"

But as soon as I hear her heartbeat, my fears are instantly eased. My mood leaving the OB's office is a 180 degrees from coming in. I'm good for a few days, feeling confident and less like I'm a high risk pregnant woman. But then the cycle starts all over until my next appointment, which is tomorrow. So you understand where this post is coming from now?

The other thing that makes feel scared all over again is if I have a bad day with diabetes. Like yesterday, I got to work and glanced at Constance before I ate my yogurt, and I also looked at my 24-hour graph and I had only gone high once in the past day (and just for the record, my high threshold is currently set at 160 mg/dL, tight control is a beast). I was feeling pretty good about everything. The little monkey inside me was extremely active the day before, my numbers were good, and I am sporting a nice baby bump that feels huge to me but everyone else says is "so little". Then I went to lunch with my husband and a friend and we picked a Chinese buffet. (You can see where this is going.)

I didn't go crazy at lunch. The most carb-heavy things I had were some fried rice and some ice cream for dessert, other than that I stuck to my obsession when it comes to Chinese food--egg drop soup, delicious and low carb. I SWAG bolused for the meal and added a few units that I call the "pregnancy factor", but I still ended up with a stubborn afternoon high that took me several hours to come down from. I got scared, and the first thing I want to feel when I'm scared is her kicking me or jabbing me or anything that says, "Hey, Mom, I'm right here and I'm OK."

It seems that I need to be on my game everyday to avoid these episodes. Test my blood sugar, take my insulin at least 30 minutes before I eat, know the carb count, correct for lows without over-correcting, exercise. I feel like if I slip in any one of these areas that everything falls apart. I didn't get back on track until this morning, and I'm carefully watching my CGM like I did the first week I had it. I don't like feeling like I can't handle one slip-up without a major emotional breakdown.

I'm hoping my appointment tomorrow will put me at ease, that I can get back to feeling confident with this pregnancy and ready to do my victory lap of conquering a diabetic pregnancy once she's here. Because after tomorrow's appointment, I can officially pack the hospital bag. Not that I'll be expecting to use it for a very VERY long time, but her rate of surviving outside the womb goes up after 25 weeks. Maybe once she's here I'll stop worrying . . . right . . . RIGHT?!?!?!?!?!!?

Meeting the Pediatrician

2012-01-25T15:25:00.000-06:00

So per my OB's request at our last appointment, we started the process of trying to find a pediatrician. The way we went about this was contacting our insurance company and getting a pre-approved list of pediatricians in our area. It was really important to me to meet with a pediatrician first before I decide to go with them. I had a ton of questions I wanted to ask, and I really didn't want to wait until my little girl is here before we do that. Surprisingly, only one doctor on our list agreed to meet with me for a prenatal appointment. I find this a little disturbing--that doctors won't agree to talk to new parents about their practice. Apparently, it's not good enough to see me because I won't have to pay a copay. Oh well, I just hoped that this one doctor would ease my fears and answer my questions.

You'd think I would learn not to schedule an appointment for 8:15 AM, in rush hour, across town. I was trying to follow the directions on my iPod while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, trying not to stress out (too late). But somehow, I managed to pull into a parking spot with 5 minutes to spare before my appointment time (after leaving the house 40 minutes earlier). The place was extremely open and colorful! It's been a long time since I've been to a pediatrician's office, but I couldn't stop staring at all the bright colors and crayons on the wall with the doctors' names on them. They called my name (actually they called my unborn daughter's name, which was so weird and exciting to hear!), and they sent me back to a waiting room.

Of course, in my rush to get to the place on time, I forgot my list of questions in my car. So I was praying that I could remember them all, or at least enough to make me feel confident in this doctor. She comes in, extremely bright and cheerful. I introduce myself and she tells me to go ahead with any questions I had, then she would tell me a little more about the practice. I started firing off the questions as fast as I could because I wanted to get them out while I remembered them. I hope the doctor didn't think she was on some rapid-fire quiz or something.

I'm type 1 diabetic. What, if anything, do we need to do for her? Obviously, watching her blood sugars post-birth will be an issue, but the NICU pediatricians will do that if needed. Other than that, we'll just keep an eye on her if any symptoms pop up (which I know by heart), but no blood screening for potential markers or anything like that. She also said that her getting milk (either by boob or formula) for the first 6 months was very important, more so than when she starts any solid foods. Having that good nutritional foundation is key. I'm also glad she said either breastfeeding or formula would work, because I don't want any added pressure to be a good breastfeeder when it might not be physically possible. Plus, I was breastfed and my brother wasn't, yet I'm the one with type 1 diabetes--it really is just a crapshoot. I briefly mentioned tinkering with a gluten-free diet to add in that extra variable of protection, and she said she's fine with that but didn't say one way for or against.

I got the feeling that my daughter would be treated the same as if any other child whose parents weren't diabetic. I'm not sure how I feel about that right now. On one hand, if we did do the blood screening early on and saw she was destined to have type 1, then there's not much we can do other than wait for the inevitable. But I also don't want to spend her whole childhood watching her and following her around with my meter. If she gets it, she gets it. There's not much I can do. I'm fine with this decision, for now.

How do you handle frantic phone calls in the middle of the night or outside of office hours? This was really important to me, because being a first-time mom is all about figuring this out and going "HELP!" at the same time. Basically, there will always be someone at the other end of the phone, either a nurse or the doctor on call. They like to at least talk with parents over the phone first before going to the ER, because exposing kids to everything in the ER is worse than just waiting for an appointment the next day. I couldn't agree with this more! But if going to the ER is necessary, they coordinate it for you so that someone is waiting on you when you get there.

We are going to a couple weddings within a month after she's here. I posed this more as a statement than as a question. I didn't want her to think that I was considering NOT going to these (one is for a fellow DOCer, anyway!), but I wanted tips on what to do with taking such a new baby out to the "real world". She applauded me for planning to go and said to just ask anyone who wants to hold her/touch her to wash their hands first. So I'm going to be "that mom" at those weddings--armed with a gallon of hand sanitizer and bags under my eyes from very little sleep. Party on!

Overall, I felt really good about this doctor. I still have the feeling that I'll be the one calling the shots on her medical care, which I prefer. I can't stand pushy doctors. I want to feel like we're all a part of a team, much like my plethora of diabetes doctors. I want to feel like we can discuss things together, combining the powers of mother's intuition and many years of medical practice (getting a visual a la Captain Planet).

As I was leaving the office, I was handed a goodie bag of diaper cream and formula samples. Now I'm ready!

I'm jealous of those who can finish their workouts

2012-01-20T08:40:00.001-06:00

I've always had a little insecurity about going to the gym. Most of the time, I'm content to do 30 minutes on the elliptical or follow along with a class. I've never known my way around the gym completely. Between all the different machines and my perfectly-built gym goers, I'd much rather stick to doing something by myself at home either on the Wii or the Total Gym. I don't have to worry about how I look or forgetting my shoes, hairband, or glucose tablets.

But I do have a free gym membership through work, so I might as well take advantage of it. It at least gives me a different scenery for some cardio stuff. And the other day, I happen to meet someone from my office there at the same time. She's a great lady and someone I look up to as far as a professional, but she's also one of those people that make me dread going to the gym. You know who I'm talking about: perfect body, perfect hair, and somehow after having 3 kids. We showed up at the same time and left at the same time, but our workouts were vastly different.

I decided I wanted to do a cardio circuit: 10 minutes on the treadmill, 10 minutes on the bike, and 10 minutes on the elliptical. Even though I had set a reduced temporary basal before I left from work, Constance said I was 73 mg/dL before I started my workout. I decided to ignore it because, darnit, I wanted to get in my workout. By the time I was done with the treadmill, I was below 55 mg/dL. Nevertheless, I kept going and said I was at least going to get in 2/3 of my workout. I started the bike, which was very uncomfortable due to my growing belly--my knees kept hitting the bottom of my belly with each turn. After 5 minutes, I felt my legs getting heavy and my mind getting foggy. I knew I wasn't going to get to the elliptical. Finally, the 10 minutes were over and I sludged my way to the locker room and tested: 29 mg/dL.

I felt frustrated, defeated, and mad at myself that I didn't stop sooner or took some glucose tabs before my workout. I started chomping on my glucose tabs. I don't even remember how many I ate, 10 or 15 at least. I sat in my car and listened to my audiobook while I waited to come up, which was also a stupid move because I could have passed out in the car and no one would have noticed. I concentrated on listening to the rest of the book, and 10 minutes later I was coming out of the fog. I waited a few more minutes before I started the car, I at least had enough sense to tell myself, "Don't you dare try to drive right now!" A few more minutes passed, and I was finally high enough to drive.

As I was pulling out of my spot, I noticed my colleague coming out of the gym after her workout. Now I had a new reason to be jealous of her--she got to finish her workout.

Safe.

2012-01-12T15:56:00.001-06:00

Now that I'm halfway done with my pregnancy, the idea of someone calling me "Mom" one day has me a little weak in the knees. I'm feeling extremely maternal lately, from choosing our daughter's future pediatrician and signing up for baby classes (why are there so many classes?!). But one thing is for sure: I love her already. And there's one thing I want her to feel above anything else:

Safe.

Safe with me, her dad, her whole family. But most of all, I want her to know that she is safe in God's arms. This world is a scary place. It even starts out being scary before she even gets here because she has a diabetic momma, though I doubt she's even aware of that fact right now. But I am. And whenever I feel scared and vulnerable due to a high blood sugar or a scary low and what effect it might have on her, I remember one thing: I am in charge of very little when it comes to her growth. Yes, she's inside me and healthy mommy = healthy baby and all that, but I've been floored with how little this pregnancy has to do with me.

The God that created this universe is in charge of my very small girl. He's the one that gave her her little heartbeat at that first ultrasound appointment. He's the one who's made sure that she is thriving despite my setbacks. And I know that despite my best control, He could take her away from me tomorrow. Scary, and humbling. She is a gift everyday I have her, and I want to engrave it on her heart that God loves her (more than me). She will always ALWAYS be safe under His umbrella.

That's how I describe my Christian faith when people ask. If I lost everything today--my job, my house, my husband--I would still have enough because I have Him. It's that indescribable peace that makes it OK to cry into a pillow all night long and wake up feeling comforted. I've been in situations where I've felt that way. In a not-so distant past (pre-D), I felt that exact feeling after some not-so great decisions on my part. I prayed to simply be back in His loving arms, happy to be the single, crazy cat lady for the rest of my life. But He chose to bless me with an amazing man that I don't deserve and a wonderful life that's 180 degrees from where I was.

And that brings me back to the title of this post. When I got pregnant, my song of choice to soothe me during those high blood sugar/stressed out fits was "Safe" by Phil Wickham. The whole song is amazing, but the chorus is what really gets me and is my personal lullaby to her during those times.

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with You always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

To my little girl, my prayer for you everyday is that you find a safe place in Him. Your dad and I are going to do our hardest to make sure you see Him through us, until you're old enough to find Him for yourself. And Dear God, please help me not to screw it up!

God is my refuge and strength, my very present help in time of trouble. (Psalm 46:1)

20 Weeks

2012-01-11T08:21:00.001-06:00

20 Weeks, a photo by Arnold_and_Me on Flickr.

Things are really starting to pop around here!

19 Weeks: Double Doctor Duty

2012-01-05T19:03:00.002-06:00

Well, it finally happened. The stars and calendars aligned and I had an OB appointment as well as an endo appointment on the same day. The festivities began around 10 AM with my OB appointment, followed by my endo appointment at 1 PM, with a light burrito lunch in the middle.

OB appointment:

This appointment was fairly boring, if there can be such a thing in this world. I knew that the nurse would want my pee, so I drank a large decaf coffee before the appointment. After waiting for 45 minutes, my bladder was nice and ready to give its supply. Next, she took my weight, which has finally taken an upward trend. So far I've gained 10 lbs total this pregnancy, which is right on track for what my doctor wants. It seems my idea of adding a cereal snack at the end of each day worked to beef me up. I just hope it doesn't start a landslide in the weight gain department. Then she took my blood pressure, which was 146/74. It's getting quite comical at this point because my blood pressure was absolutely fine yesterday at the gym and it was 110/70 at the endo's office; it seems I just get anxious at my OB's office--in a good and bad way.

After all the vitals, I was escorted into a room where Trey was waiting on me. Another nurse came in to check for little Ferbie's heartbeat. What happened next is a story so funny that it's definitely one for the baby book. She placed the wand over my exposed belly and was able to find the heartbeat right away. "Good," I thought. But then it disappeared. So the nurse moved the wand to the other side of my belly where she was able to find it again, but it was there for less than a second before it disappeared again. "She's trying to run away from me," the nurse said. Ferbie was not liking having an intruder on her roof, and she began moving up towards my belly button causing me to giggle. The nurse continued this routine for a few more tries: find the heartbeat, it disappears, I laugh because I can feel her moving around, repeat. Finally, she said, "Oh forget it! She's obviously fine in there. I just can't get her to stay still!" I don't know why, but I was feeling quite proud of my daughter at that point and wanted to give her a high five.

Next, the doctor came in and greeted both of us. We went over the standard questions: "Any bleeding? Loss of fluid?" No and no, thankfully. Then he let me ask questions. If I haven't said it already, my OB is great! He'll let me ask all the questions I want to for as long as I want. So I've started keeping a list of questions on my iPod that I reference before my appointments. I asked him about some muscle cramps I've been having, especially at night that wake me up. He recommended a magnesium supplement to hopefully relieve the cramps, although I'm enjoying the husband-hired back rubs everyday. We also talked briefly about pediatricians, which we need to nail down soon before I . . . you know . . . go into labor (!) because they'll need to be there to check her blood sugar after she's born. Then he measured my fundal height--22 cm. My doctor was happy with that. He said he wanted to see me again in 4 weeks for another appointment and ultrasound.

I made a joke with him "So I don't have to do the glucose test." "No, definitely not," he said, still clicking away on his tablet. I smiled and said, "Yeah, I mean what are you going to do? Put me on insulin?" This comment caused my doctor to let out a laugh. I like making fun of diabetes.

Endo:

This appointment was even less exciting than my OB appointment, except for this one guy in the lobby who kept staring at my belly. I just wanted to say "Stare much? It's not an alien." But I kept my cool.

I was called back, and the nurse took my weight (1 lb more than my OB, I'm guessing that was the burrito I had for lunch) and my blood pressure: 110/70. I just started laughing because the differences between the two offices are quite comical. I decided I quit on trying to figure it out. Then the nurse pricked my left middle finger, but she couldn't get enough blood for a strip. Dang calloused fingertips! She had to prick another one to get enough. I was nervous what this A1c was going to be because I had a horrible week during Christmas (just blood sugar wise, the rest of my Christmas was great). After 5 minutes, my A1c came up: 5.1% My jaw dropped open because I literally couldn't believe it. The only rationale I have for it is that when you're used to keeping such tight control that any trend of bad numbers seem significant. Obviously, my numbers in between these bad episodes were still pretty stable.

My doctor came in and we looked over my numbers. "22, huh?" he said, barely any emotion. "Yeah, that one was pretty bad." I'm glad he didn't freak out about it, I was done reliving that nightmare. He changed a few things on my pump to help me keep some lows at bay and hopefully keep me at a more stable trend overall. We'll see how things go. I made another appointment for a month from now, but this time it is a week after my OB appointment.

Overall, I learned that I'm actually doing quite well at this whole pregnancy and diabetes thing. I need to stop beating myself up when things don't go 100% perfect. These things fall in line with my only 2 New Year's resolutions: 1) enjoy the rest of this pregnancy to the fullest extent and 2) stop freaking Googling anything health related!! I'm really serious about that last one, and I've made it 5 days so far!

The One where Firemen Rescue my Diabetes Supplies

2012-01-05T08:16:00.000-06:00

Here's a fun diabetes tip to remember: When evacuating your work building due to a fire alarm, make sure you grab your diabetes bag (a.k.a. my purse) before exiting the building. Otherwise, it will end in an awkward situation of asking a fireman to rescue your bag because you're having a low episode in the middle of the parking lot.

A couple days ago, around 10:30 AM, the fire alarm starts blaring in my building at work. I was in another part of the building at the time, away from my office. I should have gone straight outside in case it was a real fire instead of walking back up to my office to grab my coat, but I was not standing outside in 30F weather without it. Normally fire alarms in our office only last for 5-10 minutes tops. But after 15 minutes in the shivering cold, we realized that this was no drill--something was really smoking or on fire. Then the rumors circulated that someone saw smoke in the A-wing of the building and that we would be outside for awhile.

By this time, it's getting close to lunch (yeah, NASA people have lunch at 11 AM) so people began getting in their cars and leaving. A couple of my officemates proposed the same idea, but as soon as we got in the car to leave I got a BZZZ-BZZZ-BZZZ from my pocket. "59 mg/dL" heading southeast. "Crap! I can't leave. I'm low and my stuff is still in my office." At this point, they weren't letting anyone back in the office yet, so I had to put on my pitiful diabetic face and ask the firemen to rescue my diabetes supplies.

I walked up to the first firetruck where a fireman was leaning on the bumper.

Me: "Hi, I left my diabetic supplies in my office. Is it possible for someone to go get them for me or escort me in there? I'm in C-wing, so I'm away from the danger zone."

Fireman: "Well, they're going to start letting people go inside in 5 minutes. Can you wait?"

Me (feeling sweaty at this point): "Ummm, I'm having a low blood sugar right now . . . "

Fireman: "Just a second."

The very nice fireman got into the truck and radioed his captain (I'm assuming) and agreed that 2 firemen could escort me to my office. So it must have been a sight: a pregnant woman being escorted by 2 firemen into a building wailing with fire alarms. I retrieved my purse and starting chomping away on my glucose tabs, and one of the fireman asked, "Are you OK?" "Yeah, just having a low blood sugar. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

The alarm went off. My officemates and I went to lunch. My blood sugar came up. Crisis averted.

I kind of wish every time I had a low that I could be surrounded by such nice firemen.

Just Talking with my Husband

2012-01-04T08:08:00.000-06:00

Last year, I had the privilege of being a guest on Chris' podcast. We talked about all things diabetes, house remodeling, and football, because those things go together.

This year, he and Dayle came over for dinner and a delicious dessert, and we recorded a podcast where the featured guest was none other than my hubby. This is truly a treat because Trey is sort of anti-internet exposure (yet, he's married to a blogger. oh the irony!). He was a good sport and stayed for the whole hour, even though he promised only 15 minutes. We talked about his fascination with lasers, fire-building, and hatchets--good guy topics. We also talked about getting used to diabetes as a married couple and my pregnancy thus far.

Enjoy!

The Answer is in the Cake

2012-01-03T08:10:00.001-06:00

Last Thursday was my 18 week anatomy scan and ultrasound. After a rough night dealing with dangerous low blood sugars, I was ready to know that my baby was OK and still doing well in there. After a few minutes of holding Trey's hand in the waiting room, the tech called my name and we went back to the ultrasound room.

The first thing she asked me as I was taking a seat on the table was, "Have you felt any movement yet?" I was happy to reply, "Yes, a ton!" It's true, this kid has a standing gymnastics appointment everyday around 9:30 AM. I am the balance beam, I guess.

I leaned back on the table, and she put the jelly wand on my belly. The first thing she checked was the baby's heartbeat, which was whump-whumping away at 141 beats per minute. That check alone made my fears ease a little bit. So I took a deep breath and tried to enjoy the rest of the appointment.

Then she went underneath the baby to look underneath its legs. She said, "Well, it looks like it's a girl." I wanted to be absolutely sure about that part, so I'm glad she went to zoom in. "Oh yeah, definitely a girl." I couldn't do anything but laugh. Trey touched his hand on my knee and smiled at me. The rest of the time, she used the pronoun "she" to describe all of her other parts.

The tech went through and checked all of her major organs and bone structure to make sure everything looked good. Heart, kidneys, gastrointestinal, stomach, spine, everything checked out. Then she checked her feet, hands, and face and took snapshots for us to print out. I had a slight diabetic moment when she checked her stomach, which was measuring a few days ahead at 19 weeks and 1 day, compared to her head that was measuring right on time at 18 weeks and 3 days. I asked the tech if those were good numbers because I was worried about my little girl being bigger due to my diabetes, and she said they were fine and they don't worry unless things starts measuring a week ahead or more.

It's hard not to be worried about every little thing as a pregnant diabetic, especially when I'm one who has done her homework and researched the death out of diabetic pregnancies beforehand. I want to change my mindset to where I only will worry about stuff that my doctor brings up, not what I find on the internet. It's fine if anyone wants to research about their health, but it can lead to a sort of hypochondria where we start to look for things that should be left for the doctor. I go see my OB again on Thursday, so I'm going to try and keep my trap shut about my worries unless he brings them up first.

We spent the weekend hosting Trey's family for the New Year's holiday, and we decided to let them know the gender of the baby via cake (like you do). Everyone was happy to know that we're having a little girl, and many tears were shed when we revealed that she would be named after Trey's grandmother. Our daughter has quite the loving family waiting on her.

Sweet like me, pink like her.

Not a Goat

2011-12-29T12:41:00.003-06:00

Thanks to everyone regarding my last post. This disease is an emotional one as well as a physical one, but I'm so glad I have this platform to gain support and have virtual arms wrap around me. Things have leveled out, finally, and I feel confident going forward.

I just wanted to update you all that our appointment went great! We have a perfectly healthy little baby with all the right organs in all the right places. But you'll have to wait on the gender announcement for a few days. We have a few people we need to tell first, like grandparents and stuff.

Boy or girl, I am just so happy with this gift that I want to burst. I'm also glad it's not a goat.

My Worst Night Ever

2011-12-29T08:32:00.001-06:00

Last night was, by far, the worst night I've ever had with diabetes. I set a new record for myself for a low, not that I'm bragging in the least. I still feel scared writing this down, because I'm not really sure how I'm alive.

It all started when I was battling a high for 3 hours before bed. It was a nice Bell curve high that made me want to use my CGM for target practice. I stacked bolus on bolus as well as having an increased basal to make this high go down. Normally this practice results in me going low, in fact it usually does. But it's usually nothing I can't handle, and I'd rather be low than high right now. So when I finally when to bed at 160 mg/dL with an arrow going down, I thought I would coast to a landing around 100 mg/dL and have a nice flatline that I normally do overnight.

I woke up at 1 AM completely drenched in sweat, the only thing waking me up was Constance blaring at me. I don't remember walking to the kitchen, but I got there somehow. I put the strip in the meter and pierced my left index finger. Five seconds later . . .

22 mg/dL

That's the first time I've ever had a number lower than my age. Surprisingly, I didn't really get scared at the number. I just remember thinking, "Uhhh, I probably need to correct that." I ate a banana while making a peanut butter sandwich. I finished it off with some cranberry juice. I considered that it was probably an overcorrection, but I was freaking 22 mg/dL! I was in survival mode. So when I woke up again at 2 AM to a high alarm, I laced in 2 units for good measure. It was hard to go back to sleep at that point, but I finally did at 3 AM.

My alarm goes off at 5 AM, and I decide to snooze due to last night's festivities. I also decided to go ahead and bolus for my breakfast so the insulin could be working while I snoozed. Bad idea! Trey and I slept through the 2nd alarm and neither one of us woke up until 6:30 AM. Actually, Trey woke up and was standing over me with a glass of juice. "Baby, you're sweaty. Here." I mumbled and eventually woke up, but Trey had to pull me up into a sitting position. I drank the juice while he walked me to the kitchen. I tested, this time on the left middle finger: 22 mg/dL. I heard Trey gasp, and I whispered, "That's what I was last night." "What?!" I made my cereal and sat down on the couch, all while Trey was following me like a hawk. "I'm hovering until you come up." I smiled, finally feeling better but cold from all the sweat.

How could this happen? I reached my lowest threshold twice in 6 hours. I'm grateful for my CGM and my husband, because I honestly don't know if I would have woken up without them. I feel horrible this morning, even thought I should be looking forward to our gender ultrasound later this morning. The last 24 hours have been the worst ever for me with diabetes. At this point, I don't care if our child is a goat, as long as their healthy and haven't felt the effects from all this. That's what makes this post so hard.

What Matters to Me

2011-12-27T14:49:00.000-06:00

Merry post-Christmas, everyone! I hope you all had a great holiday and got to eat some bolusworthy food and your BGs behaved well. I experienced some food guilt, which seems to be subsiding for now. My mind is filled with all things baby right now, especially after seeing family and getting ready to find out what little Ferbie is on Thursday. So I hope you'll indulge me for a few posts (as if this blog hasn't been baby-filled already).

One thing I noticed when I became pregnant is that for as many "Congratulations!" I received, I got just as many "What are you going to do about . . . " inquiries. And the "abouts" ranged anywhere from breastfeeding to attempting natural childbirth to vaccinating. To be honest, I hadn't thought about half of these things before I saw two lines on my bathroom counter. I simply knew that I was pregnant and this child was mine and I was responsible for it, that was about it.

Now that I've had a few months to think about it and get used to this whole parenting idea, I've realized that a lot of that stuff is exactly that . . . stuff. I don't think my kid will care in 20 years if I had an epidural or even a C-section when they were born. I'm pretty sure they're gonna care that they're here. And whether or not I make my own baby food or buy it from a jar, I'm pretty sure they won't care as long as they're fed. My list of things that I care about are extremely short compared to those that "everyone" (you know, the proverbial "everyone" that is really no one) seems to think I should.

The one thing that matters to me more than anything is that my child has a good character. To me character is defined as that choice you make when no one else is looking. Children are a gift from God, so my main job as their mom is to make sure they don't grow up to be heathens. That's what matters most to Trey and me, not whether or not their mom could breastfeed for 3 months, 6 months, or one whole year.

So for every "It's best for your child if . . . " statements, I'll simply nod my head and smile. I'm not going to think I'm any less of a mom if my child has an organic apple or a store bought one. It's a freaking apple! If they say "Thank you" after I hand it to them, that's more important to me than where the apple came from. And I also don't think any less of any mom if they choose to vaccinate, can't breastfeed, or chooses any other method of parenting that they think is best for them. It's not my child; I simply care that they grow up to be somewhat good people who open doors for the elderly and know how to wait their turn (hello, frantic mall shoppers).

This might be a pregnant hormone-fueled post that I might end up regretting later. But I just think someone needs to say this, so it might as well be me. So long as they're dressed and fed and eventually learn to be grateful and love the Lord with all their mind, body, and strength, I could give a rip about everything else.

16 Week Goodies

2011-12-15T20:13:00.001-06:00

There has been a lot going on this week pregnancy-wise, even though I didn't have an appointment this week (shocking!). I'm starting to feel like I should get paid for going to the doctor, because I'm there enough for at least some part-time pay. Maybe if I learn to do some filing I can save on some of the copays?

First of all, I've really started to pop this week. All of my pre-pregnancy pants cease to button anymore, and I bought my first pair of maternity jeans last weekend (which I L-O-V-E!!!). I'm starting to walk around with my pants unbuttoned with a shirt over the zipper, hoping that no one will point out that my fly is constantly down. I'm kind of glad that I'm finally start to feel pregnant on the outside, instead of from the inside out. Speaking of morning sickness, my pukies have definitely subsided in the past week. But I still have the occasional morning upchuck, which I've come to accept as part of my routine.

My 16-week pot belly.

Also, insulin resistance has started to rear its ugly head. It started out sporadically, so I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. But after 2 days with lunch post-prandials in the 200s for a couple hours, I knew something wasn't right. And after a post dinner high of 180 mg/dL that stayed with me for 5 hours, I decided to make some changes. I've upped my insulin:carb ratio from 1:10 to 1:8 and increased my daytime basals by 0.1 units. I don't go back to my endocrinologist until after the New Year, but I can't wait on his guidance to wrangle in these numbers. My changes seem to be working so far, but the lows still plague me. But I'd rather they plague me than any stubborn high.

And finally, I'm getting kicked! I felt what I thought was the first kick last week while Trey and I were out to dinner. However, it didn't really feel like a kick, but more like Ferbie was doing flips inside me. Like when you dive into a pool and do a flip in the middle of the water. They like to do it a lot in the mornings, right after I get to work. For a good 30 minutes or so, I can feel them their doing gymnastics's routine. They also like to do it when Trey gets home from work. It's like they hear his voice and go crazy in there! I know it will be awhile before I feel them on the outside, but I'm loving these little flips.

I don't have any more appointments until after Christmas, so hopefully Ferbie and I can endure the holiday festivities without totally succumbing to the insulin resistance nightmare. In the meantime, I'll be here--getting kicked.

Grateful to Celebrate

2011-12-12T08:47:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was my 5th anniversary of being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Given that fact, I probably didn't "celebrate" in the way I should have. I didn't have anything truly "bolus worthy" like a cupcake, nor did I really make a big deal out of it other than a Twitter update. In fact, yesterday was more reflective than anything, surrounded by my normal Sunday activities--church, laundry, and some light Christmas shopping.

Thinking back to that day, more than anything I'm extremely grateful. I'm grateful that I made it through diabetic ketoacidosis and surviving a blood sugar above 1400 mg/dL. I'm grateful that I've avoided any complications to date, even if my diabetes is still young--I will continue to celebrate that fact as long as it's true. I'm grateful that I've managed this disease on my own from the very beginning with an average A1c of 6.5%. I'm grateful that I haven't let this disease define who I am, and never will.

Diabetes is hard and diabetes sucks, big time! I've certainly had my breakdown moments, like when I threw my CGM across the room when I was over 400 mg/dL (thank you, bad insulin). And I don't want to count the number of times I've gone to bed crying into my husband's arms because of a stupid number. These moments happen and will happen again, and I've learned that they need to happen because it's my nature to be emotional and let things blow once in awhile. I can't be ashamed of my tears, because they remind me that I need to rely on God.

I hope to be here another 50 years with this disease. Maybe there will be a cure, maybe not. Personally, I'm not holding my breath. Right now, I just want to celebrate the fact that I AM HERE, when I shouldn't be. So many things in this life don't matter. But those that do matter, I want to celebrate. I want to celebrate my family who poured over me in love in those first few weeks after my diagnosis. I want to celebrate my wonderful husband whose arms are the safest place in the world. I want to celebrate my friends and everyone in the DOC.

I want to celebrate simply because I can, and that's something worth celebrating.

Fifteen Weeks

2011-12-09T08:23:00.001-06:00

Yesterday, I had my 15-week checkup with my OB. Even though my appointment was scheduled for 10:45 AM, I didn't get called back until 12 PM. My measly snack of a pear was long gone, so it was a good thing that this appointment was very short.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, the nurse finally calls my name. She instructed to go to the designated "Pee Room" and give a sample, standard procedure these days. Then she took my blood pressure, which was significantly better than what it was last time but still above normal. I've noticed that my blood pressure is always lower if I can manage to get some exercise in the day before. I know I need to make it more of habit, especially later in my pregnancy. Finally, she took my weight, which has yet to move +/- 2 lbs from my pre-pregnancy weight.

Next, I make it to the room where Trey was waiting on me. Another nurse came in and said she was going to use a doppler to find the baby's heartbeat. For those that don't know, a doppler is like this wand thing connected to a huge iPod looking thing, and they put the wand on your belly to find the baby and listen to its heartbeat. She asked how far along I was and when I said 15 weeks, she said, "Ok, so they'll still be pretty low. I'll need you to unbutton your pants and lie down." I lie down and expose my belly for her, and she waved the wand thing over my belly, bellow my belly button, from the right to the left. A few seconds pass and then I hear "Whump-whump-whump." I immediately smile and the nurse said, "Oh yeah, there it is. 156--that's very good." I always like getting that confirmation that there's still a baby inside me and they're doing well; it's easy to not feel pregnant all the time especially when I have no proof of it yet (i.e. no baby bump).

A few minutes later, my doctor comes in and he looks as ravished as I was. I know doctor's have long days, too, so I was understanding. He asked me how I was feeling with fatigue and nausea, and I brought up the fact that I have been having some heartburn. I know heartburn is not uncommon during pregnancy, but I've had a history of chronic heartburn since I was 19. I've been taking an antacid daily for the past 8 years, even before I was diagnosed with D. He seemed a bit concerned that I was having heartburn above the capacity of my antacid, but I always feel better once I take my pill at night. Everyone is happy with that solution for now.

I also brought up my lack of weight gain, and he told me he was absolutely fine with it. He said he normally doesn't see a lot of weight gain in his patients with preexisting diabetes. He did suggest that I go ahead and try to add 300 calories to my daily intake (1% milk, here I come!). Next he instructed me to lie down so he could measure my belly (I swear, everyone wants me to expose myself in this office. Next time I'm coming with no pants just to make things easier). He took out a tape measure and measured from my pubic bone to the top of my belly button. He seemed very pleased with the number (17 cm) because he finally smiled and said "That's great!"

I scheduled my next ultrasound for 3 weeks from now, where we'll get to find out what this baby actually is. That will be a nice post-Christmas present! Then Trey and I went and grabbed some burritos that we ate in about 5 seconds.

Cry Me a River

2011-12-06T09:02:00.001-06:00

I've always been a pretty emotional gal. It doesn't take a lot for me to shed a few tears, especially when I'm stressed out. So when I got pregnant, the gamut of my emotions hit a whole new level thanks to all the lovely hormones. Here is a list of things just in the last month that have left me shedding enough tears to fill a trough:

My vacuum broke. I've had this thing for over 5 years (hey, it's a Hoover) and it's served me well between my apartment and the two houses I've lived in since being married. But recently it refuses to pick up anything. I will spend 45 minutes vacuuming the whole house, only to still find a layer of dog hair on the top of the carpet. I broke down and swore to make all our pets outdoor inhabitants for the rest of their days.
I literally have not had time to go grocery shopping. I don't know what it is about this time of year, but we have something going on every weekend for the rest of 2011. So I spend my week nights catching up on laundry and taking care of the animals that by the time I think about heading to the store it's already 8 PM. Plus the fact that it gets dark immediately after lunch, I just want to go home and hide.
Any blood sugar over 250 mg/dL. While my A1c is the lowest it's ever been since birth, it certainly hasn't been without some scary highs that seem to be magnified with being pregnant. I usually get frustrated after the number doesn't come down after 5 minutes and I put my basal on 200% and stare my Dexcom into falling.

Feeling the baby "bubbles". That's right, I'm 15 weeks along, but I'm pretty sure I felt little Ferbie doing flip flops in there yesterday. I tried to hold my reaction to a smile, but I ultimately started crying. It seems even happy things lead to tears. My make-up has no hope of staying on all day.
Christmas songs. I can't handle it! I freaking tear up anytime I hear "The First Noel" or "All I Want for Christmas is You". This whole magical season has turned me into a sentimental basketcase. Thank God I haven't heard "Christmas Shoes" yet or I'm sure I'll just melt into a puddle.

I know these swinging emotions are just part of the process and ultimately a temporary thing for this little person inside of me. I just hope he or she is used to having a momma with some wet cheeks, because I think it's only going to get worse when they get here. The crib bedding we decided on arrived in the mail yesterday, and I'm keeping this thing in the plastic for now to save it from my tears.

Happy Birfday to ME!

2011-11-29T11:03:00.001-06:00

So today is my birthday, and I had an endocrinologist appointment this morning. I didn't exactly want to go to the doctor on my birthday, but my endo's office has very little wiggle room in their schedule. So I went with the hopes that my 8:30 AM appointment wouldn't ruin my first day on my 27th year here on Earth.

The one happy thing I got for waking up that early: SNOW!!! I don't know if we've ever gotten snow this early in Alabama, but it was a beautiful site to wake up to this morning.

I got ready and headed out the door with my thermos full of decaf coffee and freshly place antlers and red nose on my SUV (What?! It's Christmas season, right?). I knew today was definitely my birthday because I got a parking spot on the lobby level of the parking deck, which means I didn't have to travel the four levels, uphill on wet pavement to find a spot.

I signed in and took my spot in the very empty waiting room. Apparently, some patients canceled their morning appointments due to the snow. They called me back right at my appointment time and took my weight. So far, I've only gained 2 pounds since I found out I was pregnant, and I'm 14 weeks along. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. I mean, I fear the overall weight gain and trying to lose it when the baby is here, but I want to make sure the baby is well-fed while he/she is being baked. My nurse assured me it will go up and I'll certainly be miserable about it by the end of my pregnancy.

Next came the blood pressure check, which I have come to absolutely dread. I've had "above normal" readings for almost a year now that I just come to expect it and justify it with white coat syndrome and move on. But to my surprise, my reading was . . . normal, on the low side: 108/72. "That's good," I said as the nurse put the sleeve back in its holster. Either I'm starting to master white coat syndrome or the lack of caffeine is having a positive effect on my blood pressure.

She started spinning my A1c while downloading the readings from my new pump. We made small talk about Black Friday and baby stuff while I watched the timer go down on the machine. Finally, the machine finished and I got my A1c:

I'm proud of this number, but I'll admit that most of that number has been from lows. I've been tolerating them for the sake of baby, but I don't know how normal diabetics (ha! that made me laugh) tolerate this number all the time. I can't wait until I can get back to the 6s without guilt. My endo agreed that I was having too many lows, even in the short number of readings from my new pump. So we increased my basal rates for now, but we're expecting it to go back up in the next few weeks when insulin resistance hits.

So to recap: snow, killer parking space, stellar BP and A1c reading. All of this before the snow melted. I think 27's gonna be a great year.

Blogging over at Diabetes Sisters

2011-11-21T18:25:00.001-06:00

I am excited to announce that for the next 6 months, I'll be guest blogging at Diabetes Sisters as their pregnancy blogger. You can check me out over there for a weekly update. I'll still be blogging about my pregnancy here, and will include most if not all the same information for each post. But my posts here will continue to have that "Holly flair".

My first post is up, so check it out and let me know what you think!

Twelve Weeks

2011-11-17T20:43:00.001-06:00

Yesterday, I had my 12 week appointment with my OB. I'm beginning to think I need to check out some apartments behind the doctor's building, seeing as how I will be living there soon. We kicked things off by taking a look at our baby on the ultrasound. He or she was doing great in there! Their heart was fluttering away at 154 bpm, and they are measuring a little ahead for the size of a normal 12 week baby, which means they are probably taking after their 6'3" daddy. Their size is strictly related to its length, not girth. And has nothing to do with diabetes. ;-)

Next, I had to get my blood pressure taken and give samples (urine and blood) for testing for protein and baby-related stuff. My blood pressure was a little high (not officially high, but just higher than normal), but I attribute that to white coat syndrome and the fact that they took FOUR (count 'em, 1-2-3-4) vials of blood from me. Even though I'm diabetic, I ~~hate~~ LOATHE having blood drawn. I don't know what it is, but the whole feeling of having a needle sticking in my vein makes my skin crawl. I just sit there, my head turned and my eyes closed and try not to think about the needle getting loose and my blood spraying all over the nurse and the walls. By the time the nurse was done, my whole body was shaking from the experience and the sight of 4 vials on the table.

The final thing was the state-mandated vaginal swab for chlamydia and gonorrhea. I understand it's something that they have to do, but there's something funny about having my husband sitting in the chair next to me and getting tested for STDs. I think I was getting a little drained (literally) from the appointment, because while we were waiting on the doctor to come in, I started getting low. I wonder how many other patients have sat on the same table, pants-less with a paper skirt, while chewing on tropical fruit glucose tablets. Probably not very many.

The doctor came in and we discussed my good ultrasound and my BP reading. I explained that whenever I test my BP on my own that it's never that high and that it must be a doctor thing because I always get nervous at my appointments, to which my doctor said, "Yeah, stupid doctors." He said he's not concerned about it at this point, but he would keep an eye on it for sure. He was more elated with my last A1c (5.5%) and said that was the best thing I can do for a good pregnancy. He said I was his healthiest diabetic pregnant patient in his office--I guess that's an award to be happy about. We briefly discussed me getting to keep my pump on during labor, even thought that's a lifetime away at this point. But he said he's more comfortable with my pump than an insulin drip. +1 for the good doctor.

I received a goodie bag with all the information about the maternity centers at each hospital and several baby magazines. It was like a "Welcome to the 2nd Trimester" club package. We scheduled my next appointment for 2 weeks before Christmas (holy cow, where has this year gone?!) and I went to refill my blood supply with a steak burrito.

Now that I'm about to enter the 2nd trimester, that means my expansion is coming on quick. My pants are getting tighter and trying to button them requires some effort. I feel like I'm walking around with a bloated, post-Thanksgiving dinner belly. My engineering husband has taken on the project of measuring the outward growth of my belly on the baby's unpainted bedroom wall. I've grown a half inch in one month, which surprised me for some reason. The growth of my belly is a lot more progressive than I thought. I'll find myself rubbing my belly at random times, which I'm sure is puzzling to strangers in the grocery store.

Yeah, don't make fun of the pants. They have pockets, hence their functionality.

Besides the vampire nurses and feeling like a glorified lab rat, I feel absolutely blessed right now! This is my favorite time of year with the holidays right around the corner and enjoying the food, family, and friendships. And the other day I got a little teary eyed about doing it all next year with a baby on my hip. And the fact that we'll have to buy another stocking to go on the chimney.

I'd thought I'd end this post will a little photo of Ferbie. Right now it looks like a little alien, teddy graham baby, but they look cute to me!

"Hello there, DOC!"

Disconnected

2011-11-15T08:34:00.001-06:00

This past weekend, my husband and I took advantage of the long, cool weekend and went camping. For us, camping means sleeping in a tent and cooking over a fire or a propane-fueled grill. It was the perfect weather with cool 30 degree nights and calm 70 degree days.

Each day we took a hike through the beautiful scenery. The first day was only a 1.5 mile walk that left me at 38 mg/dL and draining a can of lemon-lime soda. The second day we planned for a 3.5 mile hike, so I did a little more pre-planning before the walk. I disconnected my pump completely about 30 minutes before the hike and packed some granola bars and glucose tabs to have just in case.

About halfway through our hike, we found this ginormous oak tree! Pretty sure it was the biggest tree I've seen in real life. Trey got a picture of me at its base for a nice perspective.

Holy Oak Tree!!!

At this time, we took a break to split a granola bar and a mini-bag of pretzels. Still un-pumped, we continued our walk back to camp. By the time we got back, I had been disconnected for over 2 hours, with a granola bar and a handful of pretzels, and my blood sugar was 133 mg/dL. Seeing that number was almost as beautiful as the fall leaves. Almost.

There were some scary moments during the trip, too. Like getting my first ever "TEMPERATURE WARNING" on my meter after the first night of 30 degree temps. I had to keep my meter in my jacket pocket so it would keep warm. There was also the time I woke up drenched in sweat (at 31 F, that's a cool wake up) and finished off my jar of raspberry glucose tabs and a bar of chocolate that was reserved for smores. I woke up later at 95 mg/dL, thankful that I decided against bolusing for the chocolate bar.

Camping also seemed to agree with my pregnancy symptoms, or lack thereof during the trip. The relaxing atmosphere and fresh air pretty much ceased my nausea and fatigue. If I could live in the woods for the rest of my pregnancy, I would. So long as there's a fire.

A1c Thoughts

2011-11-08T09:06:00.000-06:00

When I found out I was pregnant and excitedly told my endo, the first thing he did was increase my basal rates 0.1u/hr. This increase made my daily total jump from roughly 16 units to almost 20 units. This puzzled me at first, because I had only heard of the plaguing first trimester lows associated with a diabetic pregnancy. So I thought my basal rates should decrease or at least stay the same. My endo warned me that I needed to arm myself constantly with fast-acting carbs for these oncoming lows.

For the first few days after that appointment, I followed my low-treating guidelines by the book. I religiously corrected using the 15/15 rule with scary precision. But I kept correcting, and kept correcting, and kept correcting. Eventually, I got tired of constantly correcting with oh-so-perfectly measured glasses of juice or exactly 4 glucose tabs. Especially in the middle of the night, low correcting rules go out the window. My low treating method became something like this: drink enough juice that gets rid of the shakes, eat a tablespoon of peanut butter, chase with more juice or chocolate milk. I'll admit that this resulted in some scary rebound highs that left me crying and vowing never to go outside the rules again.

Things seem to finally be settling down and my 24-hour window on my CGM doesn't look like the cutting side of a bread knife. Part of the resolution is learning my limits when correcting lows (like filling a glass of juice is always less than drinking it straight from the jug) and maintaining a constantly grazing schedule (like every 2 hours or less, seriously!).

I know that being friendly with lows is good for Ferbie at this point in my pregnancy, and I'm quite proud that my A1c is in the 5s for the first time since I went on the pump. But I must admit I could not do this everyday for normal diabetes management. I know that everyone's comfort zone for A1c is different, but I feel the best when I land between 6.0-6.5% for my A1c. Higher than that means I am hanging out on my higher end too much, but lower than that means I am spending a good majority of my days being low.

I am coming to the conclusion, though, that the A1c holds a lot more value than it should. My endo might give me a "Good job!" with an A1c of 5.5%, but looking back at the past month in my meter log shows that my body is roughly 50% apple juice. I really put more value in my quarterly blood work for my kidneys and cholesterol, my yearly eye exam, and my overall "feeling" of health. As long as those things get an A+ from all the medical personnel, I don't think it should matter what my A1c is when they happened.

What Makes My Heart Skip a Beat?

2011-11-04T09:00:00.000-05:00

I had never been more nervous for any appointment than I was before our first ultrasound appointment. I don't know why I was so nervous. I suppose because up to that point, it hadn't been "real" yet. Sure, I had been puking like a champ everyday for two weeks, but the idea of actually having another life inside of me hadn't hit me. I was also worried that things weren't going to be 100% perfect--a product of living with an imperfect condition, I guess.

The nurse called us back to the ultrasound room where I hoisted myself on the table and held my breath. The entire room was dark except for the screen facing away from me, towards the technician and Trey. I waited anxiously while she looked for the baby and, more importantly, a little heartbeat. A few seconds later, she said, "Oh yeah, there it is." She turned the screen towards me, and what I saw absolutely took my breath away. It was the tiniest little peanut with a flicker on the left side. Seeing the heart actually move at its own rhythm caused me to instantly break out some tears. Instantly, I felt the need to apologize. "You're probably used to this, right? Pregnant women crying?"

She printed out a few snapshots of the little peanut for us to take home (which now are proudly being displayed on our refrigerator). While we waited on the doctor, Trey and I kept looking at the pictures and smiling at each other. This was real. This was happening. Holy crap!

The doctor walked in and said, "That's a good looking baby!" He let us ask a plethora of questions, from who should take over cat litter duties (Trey gets to take it on for the next 7 months. *score*) to how long before the puke fest should subside. The last question I asked him was the most important one in my mind, "Have you ever done a type 1 pregnancy before?" I knew my OB was high-risk, but this question was important because it was personal to me. I needed to know his experience with "my kind".

He looked at me, one eyebrow up, "Of course! I've been around for over 20 years, and have certainly seen my share of type 1s." Actually, he said that type 1s are usually some of his healthiest patients because they're diligent about their health before they're pregnant. I've always loved my OB, but seeing him that day made extremely grateful to have him as my doctor in this process.

We got to see little Ferbie (yes, my creative nickname. better than "it".) again yesterday, and the little teddy graham was dancing in there like it was doing hula hoops. I'm already proud of this little squirt.

Sounds Like a Dinasour

2011-11-01T08:08:00.001-05:00

Because of my diabetes, I'm automatically put in the "high risk" category for pregnancy. Therefore, I get to enjoy all of these extra tests, beginning with blood work immediately after I find out I'm pregnant to see how "pregnant" I am. The two variables they check are hcg, which basically measures how the baby's growing, and progesterone, which measures how my body's supporting the pregnancy.

They did back-to-back bloodwork to make sure my levels were doubling or at least rising. I'll be honest and say I didn't know anything about these variables or what they should be during pregnancy. All I could think of was that "progesterone" sounded like a name of some dinosaur.

"Rawr, I make babies grow."

My first results were fine, right on schedule for where I should be. But my second results were less than stellar. My hcg levels were fine, almost doubling from 500 to 970. But my progesterone levels actually went down from 18 to 12.

The nurse prescribed for me to go on progesterone supplements to get my levels back up above 15. Even though she said it is normal for those numbers to go down, I was still freaked out. If this is normal, why am I being put on supplements? I googled progesterone levels and what they should be at this point in my pregnancy. Big, big mistake. Never ever google anything related to your health, especially pregnancy. I pretty much scared myself into stressing out and crying at random times (of course, that could be the pregnancy itself). I was also dealing with a weird complex of taking these supplements and wondering "Am I not woman enough to carry my own child?"

I went back in for more blood work the next week to make sure my levels were still rising. I had to wait 24 hours for the results: torture! I had less than a day's worth of supplements in me, so I was worried about the time between my last blood work that was 4 days ago. However, I got the best call the next day. "Hello Holly? Your results are wonderful. Your progesterone increased to 25 and your hcg increased to 9,000!" I was so relieved! The next set of blood work they took the next day made the nurse sing, "Your results are out-stand-ing!" Progesterone stayed the same at 25 (the nurse said that was fine) and hcg increased to 18,000.

These results made me so relieved! Also, the fact that my progesterone levels doubled in 4 days mostly from me (and not the supplements) made me feel a lot better. And the fact that the hcg levels (a.k.a the baby) increased out-stand-ing-ly made me feel like he/she is doing great regardless of my shortcomings.

All in all, I'm somewhat grateful to be placed in the "high risk" category because of my diabetes. It means I get the comfort of extra monitoring and testing that lets me know that the baby and I are doing OK. It can be stressful if there are any hiccups, but the doctors can do their thing to help me or the baby before anything bad happens.

Pregnancy Update and Morning Sickness

2011-10-25T09:16:00.001-05:00

First of all, I want to thank everyone for all the wonderful comments on my pregnancy announcement. I still go back and read all of them multiple times throughout the day. I definitely feel the support and love of the DOC. Now that I'm "out", I wanted to give you guys a quick update on my pregnancy so far these past 9 weeks.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I didn't really have any symptoms. I had some soreness and cramping, but nothing that was discomforting. But once I hit 6 weeks, it was like the plethora of pregnancy symptoms hit me like a ton of bricks.

I had heard about the pregnancy lows accompanied with a type 1 diabetic pregnancy, but I didn't realize that they were on a completely different scale. It's like my body wants to be at 60 mg/dL all the time without any symptoms. All I can say is THANK GOODNESS I have a CGM. The majority of the time, Constance catches my lows before I feel them. I honestly don't know how low I could be most of the time without her alerting me. The only problem with this is she seems to go off all. the. time! Especially when I (try to) sleep, she keeps beeping at me every hour that I'm below 70 mg/dL. And when she woke me up last night at 1 AM for the 5 millionth time, I busted out into tears because I just freaking wanted to sleep. I know these lows are manageable and it's better for me to hang out in the basement end of my range for the next few weeks, but I'm looking forward to getting back to the 100s as "normal".

Another symptom that hit me in the gut is morning (umm, all day) sickness. I've always had a pretty strong stomach. Even if I get a whiff of something that turns my stomach, I can usually hold it in and still eat like nothing happened. But it seems that pregnancy has turned my iron stomach into mush. And the main culprit that makes me run to the bathroom? Ground beef. Even just typing that makes me try to think of something else. But as it stands right now, I can't even look at a hamburger right now without turning the other way (towards the bathroom).

This pregnancy side effect actually caused me to lose 5 pounds the first three weeks I was pregnant. But it seems I have turned a corner recently because I can eat something larger than a tennis ball. The nausea is still there, mainly when I first wake up and if I go more than 3 hours between meals.

At my 2nd appointment with my endo since I found out I was pregnant (where my A1c was 5.5%! Woo!), I asked him what was the standard procedure with insulin and puking. Because I mainly worry about "eliminating" something I just bolused for and the oncoming low. He said the best thing I can do is either suspend my pump or put my bolus on an extended square for an hour or two to make sure I keep most of my meal down.

I've got roughly 3 more weeks of the pukes before it hopefully gives up altogether. Until then, I'll keep my diabetes supplies stashed with diet ginger ale and whole wheat crackers.

My new love.

Music Therapy

2011-10-24T15:51:00.000-05:00

I love listening to music! I'm not musically-inclined at all (minus that one year I played flute in junior high), but I definitely feel my soul lifting when I hear a good song. I gravitate towards songs that have some inspiration behind them. One of my favorite artists right now is Manafest (a Canadian Christian rapper, eh?), and I'm really digging on his new song "Every Time You Run". I've heard this song a couple times before, but today when I heard the chorus I thought about the DOC.

Every time you run, every time you hide

Every time it hurts, every time you cry

Every time you run away, every time you hide your face

And it feels so far away, I'm right here with you

I know we all experience some bought of diabetes burnout at some point or another. When I heard this song today, I just wanted to give everyone in the DOC a big hug and let you know that we are here together. We are in this together. You can lean on us whenever you just feel like throwing your hands in the air and saying "Forget it!" I love you, DOC, and I'm right here with you.

The Day I Found Out I Am PREGNANT!!!

2011-10-21T07:58:00.000-05:00

It feels weird to be writing this post since you guys probably won't see it for another month or so, but I know this time in my pregnancy is important and I need to get down every emotion and feeling. This post was written on September 26, 2011.

I'm 5 weeks! It feels awesome to be writing those words. I feel so incredibly blessed and excited with this pregnancy. Trey is excited, too! Every once in a while he'll just look at me and giggle--I don't have to guess what he's thinking about.

We found out I was pregnant last Tuesday, September 20th. I knew there was a strong possibility I could be pregnant because I was 2 days late, and that never EVER happens to me. I'm very . . . "on time"?

The dogs started their usual stirring around 4:30 AM, and instead of telling them to "Shhh, lay down!" to try and get those few extra minutes of sleep, I went ahead and let them out so I could take the test. I did the test and put it on the counter to wait the instructed 3 minutes, but I didn't have to wait that long. After less than a minute, the "Pregnant" line showed up clear as day, and after 3 minutes it looked like this:

The proof!

I woke up Trey and said, "Come look at this!" My sleepy husband got out of bed and came to the bathroom. He looked down at the test and said, "I told you so!" He had guessed a few days ago that I was pregnant, but I wanted to wait until I was officially late to test. We hugged and kissed, then looked at each other. "So what do we do now?" he asked. "I'll call my OB later and my endo to get the ball rolling."

I went to my OB that afternoon to do the initial blood work. I got a call back the next day that my levels were right on schedule for someone who's 4 weeks, my hcg levels were over 500. I did another blood draw on Thursday, which I'm still waiting for the results. My first ultrasound was scheduled for October 20th, I'll be 8.5 weeks and praying they find a good, solid heart beat. (If you guys are reading this, then they did.) ;-)

I saw my endo that afternoon as well. He congratulated me on my pregnancy and took my A1c. To be honest, I was a little nervous about what the number would be. We figured we had gotten pregnant while on vacation and I was CGM-less for a week, not the best environment for good blood sugar control. However, I was astonished when I saw 5.6! I actually asked the nurse, "Is that right?" She looked back at the machine and said, "It's right. Not gonna argue with it are you?" "Not at all!" I said with a smile. I texted Trey and said "A1c = 5.6! Hellz yeah!" We set up my next appointment for October 24th, with blood work a week before.

I haven't really been having any bad symptoms yet. I keep having this nagging worry that something will happen before our first ultrasound; it plagues my mind all day. I have made conscious efforts to keep those thoughts out of my mind, even to the point of writing down reasons why I shouldn't worry: I'm a young, healthy female. My numbers are solid. There's absolutely no reason to be worried and every reason to celebrate.

I'm sitting with a smile on my face at that last sentence. For the first 4 weeks of this pregnancy, I haven't really celebrated because I was so worried. But now that we've seen the heartbeat and know there's a baby inside me and not a monster causing my morning sickness (more on that later), I can't help but smile . . . and freakin' tear up a tiny bit.

What I Advocate

2011-10-07T07:30:00.001-05:00

So for No-D Blog Day, I wanted to talk about something that's really near and dear to my heart. To be honest, I'm a crappy diabetes advocate. I've been to one JDRF walk in the almost 5 years I've been diagnosed. I haven't contacted to my local congressman to talk to him about funding towards a cure or the artificial pancreas project. For the most part, the only time my husband and I discuss my diabetes is when it is extremely evident via a scary low or high.

But there is something that I'm a real advocate for and that's adopting rescue animals. When Trey and I discussed getting a puppy to add to our 2 person, 2 cat family, we tossed around the choices of breeds we wanted. He wanted a boxer, I wanted an English bulldog. However, after researching breeders in the area and realizing the amount of rescue shelters there were in town, we decided to get a rescue.

We were lucky to pick out an 8-week-old, 10 lb. ball of fur at PetsMart, because most rescue dogs are older and have some type of behavior problems. Roscoe's momma came to the shelter pregnant with him and his 7 siblings. And we got to pick him out when they brought them to the store that day. Half Labrador retriever, half Siberian husky, my Roscoe is all love! Loyalty is his middle name, because he's never more than 3 feet from me. I love that big ball of mess.

Missy we adopted as a roughly 1-year-old boxer/lab mix, or a boxador as I call her. She came to us with some neglect issues, because we noticed that she wants nothing more than for someone to pet her and play with her ears. We gave her all the love we could and balanced it with enough discipline to make her a great dog. She has the shortest attention span of any dog I've ever met, especially when she sees a squirrel. She's our little sweetheart.

Our family at the local Dog Fair

So if you're looking to add a furry animal to your mix, I extremely advocate looking at rescue animals. There are millions of dogs and cats in our country that are waiting for someone to give them a chance. And after a few years, the old saying is really true, "Who rescued who?"

Don't Worry

2011-09-23T08:44:00.000-05:00

For the most part, I'm a pretty positive person. I enjoy the company of my family and friends, playing with my dogs, and a good cup of coffee. However, I know that I'm a worrier. I consider it more of a "pessimistic reality"--meaning if something bad can occur, I at least like to dwell on it and prepare myself. My dear husband constantly reminds me "Why are you worrying about things that aren't even real?" I wish I could dwell more on the positive, because for the most part that is usually the outcome.

For example, I have type 1 diabetes. Most articles on my disease warn of possible complications such as eye, kidney, and nerve damage. I certainly try to do my part to take care of my disease to make sure that I don't get any of those things. And I haven't (coming up of 5 years this December). In fact, I would argue that I'm the healthiest I've ever been in my life, THANKS to diabetes. My A1c this past Tuesday was 5.6! The best I've had since going on the pump.

Also, I am married and have been for 3 years now. We received a lot of warnings when we were preparing for marriage that we would be miserable. That we would wake up one day and realize we hate the person we're with! I couldn't fathom that scenario at the time, but I at least prepared myself for that reality. But our marriage has been so fun and so sweet and so . . . blissful, that I think all those "warnings" were nothing but smoke. Sure, we've had our hard times, but it's nothing that "Holly & Trey" as a team can't handle. I was worried that I would hate my husband, but I love him more and enjoy him more that I ever prepared myself for.

The same thing happens all the time. I worried about a test in school, but I end up doing awesome. I worried about not passing my thesis defense, but I was passed within 5 minutes. I worry, I worry, and I worry. Most of the time, over nothing. Some might say that my worrying just puts me in a more aware, prepared state of mind. But I'd like to go through some things in life not worrying in the beginning and enjoy the process.

I know the best thing I can do is surround myself with positive people to counter my negativity. I hate that most doctor's appointments will be spent making sure nothing is going wrong, at least in my mind. I need to look for the positive. I need to BE positive. The Bible has 365 verses where the phrase "don't worry" is mentioned, but my favorite verse about having a positive mindset is Phillipians 4:8,

"whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such thing."

I need to tattoo this phrase on my right wrist, next to my medical ID.

"It's Called a Lance(t), Helloooooo!"

2011-09-13T08:53:00.001-05:00

This thing is awesome!

Last week, my standard issue lancet from my OneTouch UltraLink was down for the count. The "pricker" (sorry, best term I can come up with) kept getting stuck in the chamber, refusing to actually make contact with my fingers. I finally had to resort to manually pricking myself, which is very unpleasant.

So I knew I needed to break down and buy a new lancet. I had heard good buzz about the Accu-Check Multiclix being really small and super swift, so I stopped by my closest retail pharmacy and picked one up. (I don't think I've ever paid that much for a lancet, or paid for one ever. Just fair warning.)

Payment aside, this thing is awesome! The "pricker" is like 10x smaller than a normal lancet (OK, not that much smaller, but I do need my glasses to see it). It has multiple depth settings for the sensitive to the calloused fingertips (after almost 5 years with diabetes, I'm only on the 2.5 mark out of 5). But perhaps the best thing about the lancet is the fact it comes with 6 "prickers" in a round. This might inspire me to change it more than once a month!

The first few days after I got it, I was so excited about using the lancet that I forgot to put a strip into the meter first. It's quite ungraceful to use one hand to open the vial and put a strip in the meter while holding the other hand up with a drop of blood ready to go. Regardless, I'm quite pleased with this purchase and I'm tempted to replace my backup meters with the same lancing device. Going from the "I can barely feel it" lancet during the day to "my finger has a heartbeat" lancet at the gym and by my bed is quite a contrast.

NOTE: No one paid me for this post. I paid my hard-earned money for this lancet. All opinions continue to be my own, unless they'd like to send me a free round of "prickers". =D

The Day the Dexcom Died

2011-09-04T11:52:00.000-05:00

One of the great advantages of having a CGM is being able to monitor my blood sugar during off-routine times. like a beach vacation. So when receiver went kaput on me our 2nd day there, I felt completely vulnerable the rest of the trip.

At least it was serene.

Let's back up a bit. One of the things I love to do at the beach is ride the waves on a boogie board. It's exhilarating and it's a great workout. Even thought I can't take Constance in the water with me, she can keep up with me when I get back to my chair. However, the heat of the sun on the receiver sitting on the beach chair is something I didn't consider.

The receiver was fine the rest of the day, but it did give me some off numbers towards the night. When I did my nighttime test before bed, I got an ERR1 message. Not wanting to stay up another hour to recalibrate, I shut down my receiver with intents on calibrating in the morning. But when the morning came, I couldn't turn on the receiver. I held down each button multiple times, for longer than I needed to. I finally called tech support, and they instructed me to try the reset button the back of the receiver. Nothing happened.

My receiver was fried.

Unfortunately, my system was out of warranty. So that meant I would have to start all over and get insurance approval and chart notes from my endocrinologist. That was probably the worst news from this whole situation. The last time I went through this process, I waited a month while the paperwork sat on my endo's desk. I kind of assumed I would have to go through that all over again.

But this also meant that I would have to revert back to my pre-CGM management routine, including testing 2 hours after a meal like clockwork. I know that you're not supposed to rely on the CGM in place of finger stick testing, but I would find myself relying on it more and more, especially if the CGM was proving to be accurate. My numbers the rest of the week were less than stellar, but not outrageous. I had high numbers after breakfast, which is typical for me with the absence of exercise. I did miss being able to monitor my BG when it wasn't in-range, relying on testing every hour or 30 minutes for a correction. Those gaps in time were excruciating, but I managed the best I could.

On the last day of our vacation, I got the best call. My Dexcom rep told me that my insurance was still going to cover most of the cost of my new setup and sensors, AND my endo had already signed my paperwork needed to submit to insurance! I was elated. And this all occurred on a day that my endo's office is normally closed. He's really been on his game, especially since I've been discussing the idea of pregnancy.

I should receive my new Dexcom system next week. I can't wait to get back to being a real-time diabetic. Next time, though, I think I'll leave the receiver in my room, or at least get it its own hat.

Diabetic Nightmares

2011-08-22T08:31:00.001-05:00

Shortly after I was diagnosed, I had a nightmare that involved diabetes. I dreamed that I had snuck out in the middle of the night to go to a bar. But not just any bar, a bar that served nothing but CAKES! I remember being drawn to this one in particular, an Oreo cake--a circular white cake with Oreo cookie crumbles all over it. I felt guilty for even being there, being diabetic and all. Even though I was told at my first meeting with my CDE that I could have cake, as long as I take insulin for it. Diabetes was taking over my subconscious!

And last night, I had another nightmare. I dreamed that I sat down at a nice Italian restaurant when Constance starting blaring at me that I was HIGH. I went to the bathroom to check and apparently I was so high that my ketone strips started BEEEEEEEPing, as well! I tried to discretely walk back to my table, but my CGM kept beeping and I felt like crap (in my dream). I remember thinking I didn't care how high I was, I was going to enjoy my big bowl of pasta and would deal with the consequences later. I was relieved when I woke up this morning to find out I was a little low, 65 mg/dL.

Has this ever happened to anyone else?! Please tell me so that I don't feel like a complete looney. Diabetes seems to be at the center of my attention every waking moment. But does it have to be so in my sleep, too?!

Convicted about Carbs

2011-08-19T08:42:00.003-05:00

For anyone who has been following my blog for any length of time, you know that I firmly believe that diabetics should be able to eat and drink anything they want. I even went as far as to perfect the bolus for the tricky combination that is pizza and beer. A typical day in my diet includes cereal for breakfast (it's Kashi, so give me some credit), Greek yogurt for a mid-morning snack, a turkey sandwich for lunch, popcorn or a cereal bar in the afternoon, and a protein-heavy dinner but usually includes a side of bread like a roll or cornbread. Occasionally, I will indulge in some ice cream before bed (but don't we all?).

I love carbs! (As you can probably tell.) But I also believe that our bodies need carbs to function, especially the brain. I've always wondered what long-term effects the Atkins diet would have on a body, because it can't be healthy to wrap a Big Mac in lettuce. But carbs come in all different types of food, from your typical bread products, to pure sugar, to natural sources like fruit and starchy vegetables.

And after reading this article, I started to become convicted about what I put into my mouth and justifying it with the flag of "I'm diabetic, but I can eat what I want!" I'll admit, I sort of carry a chip on my shoulder for anyone who gives me a glare when they see me check my blood sugar at a restaurant and then order a big bowl of creamy Alfredo pasta. That article was basically God retorting my reasoning with, "But what about what I say?" Eeesh, it was prick at my heart that I knew could only come from Him. The sin of gluttony is one that's not talked about a lot, especially in our current culture, but it's one I'm guilty of A LOT.

I started to re-evaluate my diet and look at what I could change from having strictly bread products. I started by having a chargrilled chicken salad with fruit toppings for lunch. It had the same amount of carbs that a typical turkey sandwich would have, but a lot less calories (I suppose bread-like carbs are more bloated with calories). And this morning for breakfast I had 4 slices of turkey bacon, a small clementine, and a glass of skim milk. Again, almost the exact same amount of carbs that I usually have with my Kashi cereal, but less calories and more protein.

Obviously, I'm not expecting to go completely bread-free from here on out, but I think I can make small changes in the meals I'm in charge of to eliminate the heavy carbs. And when I say heavy carbs, I mean the big 5: bread, pasta, rice, tortillas, and cereal (this last one made me tear up a big, I LOVE cereal!). Besides, I think if I can make most of my total carb amount come from more fruits and starchy veggies than bread products, the healthier all around.

This is MY personal conviction, and I'm not saying that I think ALL diabetics should follow this plan. This is just something I'm following through with because I truly feel convicted by it. But if there are those out there that have followed a similar plan (i.e. avoiding the big 5), I would love to get some meal ideas from you. I know I need to stock my fridge with more fruit and vegetable choices so that it will be easy to grab and go. But what else can I do to avoid bread products (and not go crazy at the same time?).

EDIT: I wanted to add that my resource for the "Big 5" came from this video with Dr. Lois Jovanovic about diabetes and pregnancy. I think some of her thresholds are a little extreme, but YDMV as they say.

Tube Meet Wires

2011-08-18T13:07:00.002-05:00

Tube meet wires, a photo by Arnold_and_Me on Flickr.

How in the world does this happen?! The wires for my earbuds get linked with my pump tubing that's tucked into my pants. Two pieces of technology, reaching out for each other?

Ready to Run

2011-08-06T09:19:00.000-05:00

So in the ongoing effort to keep up my dedication to exercise, I am taking the plunge to start a running routine. But here's the thing: I HATE/LOATHE/DESPISE/whatever-word-you-choose running. The impact on my legs and knees as I hit the pavement is extremely uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that I feel like I'm swimming through the Alabama humidity.

I've attempted to go running with Trey a few times (because he actually enjoys running, what a strange man!), but my gym sack that contains all my diabetes junk (meter, glucose tabs, syringes, glucagon) bounces against my back and makes it even more uncomfortable to run than the impact. The only time I've ever had a successful run with all my diabetes junk is when I can stash them all in my windbreaker. But there's no way I can do that with temps in the upper 90s and heat indexes in the 100s.

Enter my SPIbelt!

It's like a fanny pack, but cooler!

This SPIbelt (small personal items belt) contains my OneTouch mini meter, lancet, and strips vial (because putting the whole meter case in there was too bulky), a sleeve of glucose tabs, and of course my CGM. I'd like to be able to fit a few more things in there, like my glucagon or cell phone, but these are the essentials for running.

So yesterday morning I wanted to give this new accessory a try. Trey and I decided to get up for a morning run at 7 AM, when the humidity would only be stifling instead of unbearable. The belt did great! I could hear the zipper bouncing on the outside of the pack as we ran, but the pack wasn't bouncing against me--and that was the main goal. I already noticed that the pack works the best slightly off-center from my spine, so there's no gap between the pack and my body.

The run was fun, too. We only went 2.0 miles, which was enough for me as a run-hater. But I could slowly see myself getting into running, as long as as I have my SPIbelt and a running buddy. =)

Disclaimer: SPIbelt did not ask me to write about their product, nor did they provide any compensation. I had to buy this sucker myself, so all opinions are my own.

Stress and Diabetes

2011-07-20T08:39:00.000-05:00

The past 2 weeks have been super stressful, feeling like I've been stretched at every limb. Multiple projects at work combined with house renovations going on at home has me searching for a hole to crawl in to avoid them all. It literally feels like I have a ball of wires strapped around my neck, and the wires have choked me to point I can barely breathe. Monday was really bad because I was searching for a boarding kennel for the pups for a trip out of town this weekend. They've never been boarded before, so I was stressing out about trying to find the best one in town.

And thanks to the tornadoes that came through in April, we've had the joy of getting our roof replaced and some drywall redone. For both of these events, I was at home "supervising" the contractors (re: I hid in the guest bedroom with my Nook) while listening to the banging and sawing on all sides. Then, when I would come out of my escape, I would see the house in a mess. Nothing stresses me out more than strangers causing a mess in my house. NOTHING! After the drywall contractors left, Trey and I had to leave for a movie date (Harry Potter, DH2) so I couldn't immediately start cleaning up like I wanted to.

I started noticing the stress in my numbers when I was waking up in the 170s. I knew I had 2 options: increase my basal or try to reduce my stress level. I can tell when I get really stressed because I become physically exhausted. And it hasn't helped that I haven't been able to work out as much with everything going on the work/home fronts. I was able to make my softball game last night, and even though we lost, I could instantly feel some relief from all the stress. My numbers felt the relief, too, because I cruised in the 70s overnight.

Unfortunately, the stress isn't over yet. Between the trip this weekend, family visiting next weekend, and trying to stay above water at work, I need a game plan. I've decided that I am going to workout on my new Total Gym first thing when I get home, regardless of how much I just want to plop on the couch and not move a muscle. I need to clean the house. I need to get the carpets cleaned. I need to make sure we have enough towels for 8 people being in my house all at once. However, I first need to take care of me, and that includes taking care of my diabetes. But I also need to take care of my mental health.

The correlation between diabetes and depression is too strong to ignore. I feel so much better when I can strap on my earbuds and jam out to P!NK while busting it out on the elliptical. I can feel the tangled ball on my neck begin to loosen and I feel like I can handle things better than before. I just need to keep in mind that this season of stress is only temporary and my beach vacation is only 5 weeks away. I need to staple that vacation pamphlet to my forehead.

Send Me to the Stratosphere

2011-07-13T08:23:00.000-05:00

Diabetes is tricky. ("Duh," you say.) The math itself is complicated enough to make this gal who has a bachelor's degree in physics and a minor in mathematics bang her head against the wall. It's non-linear and seemingly has no formula solution. Nothing is more frustrating!

Such is the case when I forgot to program Arnold for my extended bolus for pizza this weekend. I must have had my ratios wrong or something, because the first hour after I ate I was chugging juice to keep from going low. So I decided to forgo the extended square bolus following the initial bolus because I kept going low. And when I tested before bed at 103 mg/dL, I thought I was set. I was only missing 1.0 units from my original bolus, no big deal.

Uh uh.

I woke up at 4 AM with Constance blaring at me, dry mouth, and a slight headache. She said I was 335 mg/dL and a test confirmed I was 300 mg/dL. My correction bolus was a little over 3 units of insulin!

How in the world does 1 unit missed equal 3 units for correction?! It boggles my mind! Is it like going into orbit away from the force of gravity? The further away you are from the central force, the less effect it has. Thus, sending you into a momentum of climbing higher and higher into the stratosphere. That's my engineering/physics mind trying to figure this out.

Has anyone else noticed this? Diabetes can get so out of control in a hurry. Just goes to show how important that initial bolus (before eating) is to keeping a nice streamline on my numbers. The fact that we can maintain numbers the way we do with a body that wants to live in the stratosphere goes to show how awesome we diabetics are!

I'll Take That A1c!!!

2011-06-28T20:41:00.001-05:00

This morning I had my quarterly endo appointment. But today didn't start out very optimistic and sunny, quite the opposite. Severe thunderstorms were entering our region and causing power outages across the area. It's really freaky to be driving on the road and watching the street lights go out!

Anywho.

I get to the parking garage, check my blood sugar (118 mg/dL), and head to the office armed with my Dexcom printouts. I only wait 30 minutes (woo!) before my name was called. The nurse takes my weight (I didn't ask her if it had gone down since last time, I didn't wanna know), my blood pressure (122/86), and my blood sugar (118 mg/dL, yay for accuracy!) and A1c draw. I've written before that it is torture to get my A1c taken at my doctor's because I have the pleasure of watching the timer inch its way down from 5 minutes to 0:00. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest before I saw the number.

I'll take that.

"Good job," the nurse said. "The doctor will be in shortly." I immediately texted Trey the number, to which he responded, "woohoo!"

My doctor walked in and excitedly said, "Hi, Holly!" He was obviously pleased with my decrease in my A1c from 6.8% back in February. He asked me how I thought my blood sugars were doing, and I said I was pleased with them but just trying to avoid the lows with working out. We also discussed the possibility of me getting pregnant, and my doctor made the point that even though I'm doing well with my control now, that it's much easier to be in control when you're doing it for someone else. That is so true! There have been plenty of times where I SWAGed for a piece of cake or didn't wait 30 minutes after taking a bolus to eat because I didn't care about the consequences. If I were pregnant at those times, I guarantee that I would think twice about SWAGing for the key lime pie.

I was also given a copy of my lab work that I had done last week, and this is the first time I've ever been given a copy of the results. It's quite extensive, but my doctor said my results were stellar. I can spend time deciphering all the codes later. He scheduled my next appointment and left. I grabbed my mounds of paperwork (Dexcom graphs, pump downloads, and lab work results) and made my way to the receptionist to checkout.

I started getting a little choked up thinking about all the hard work I've done, the hope of a successful pregnancy, and the peace that my body is perfectly healthy despite having a chronic illness. I celebrated my success my grabbing a caramel macchiato on the way to work.

Now, about that coffee addiction . . .

Doctors, Doctors, Everywhere!!!

2011-06-20T08:38:00.000-05:00

Life has been insanely busy lately, from my crazy work schedule to keeping up with somewhat of a social life, I've been out of the social media/blogging loop. Thankfully, my diabetes has somewhat behaved during all of this. My current 30-day average on my meter has been hovering around 140 mg/dL. (Thank you, diabetes gods!) But I have several doctor's appointments coming up that make diabetes hard to ignore.

Last Friday, I went to have blood drawn to look at all my levels including cholesterol, lipids, and (of course) A1c. And my pathetically small veins made it hard for the nurse to get enough blood in the vial at first. She had to squeeze my upper arm to make enough come out. So this lead to having to keep the needle in my arm for half a second longer than I wanted it to. Next time, I'll just take a jog up and down the hall to get my blood pumping.

This weekend, I downloaded my latest Dexcom graphs, and it looks like my A1c should land around 5.8 (median) to 6.1% (mean). I feel really good about this A1c, but I had similar graphs before my last appointment when my A1c came back at 6.8%. Most people would probably be happy with this number, but I'd rather be below 6.5% before we get pregnant. Even though we're not trying right now, I don't want to have to wait on diabetes when we are ready. I've been trying to keep my A1c in the baby-safe range for the past year, so that all my doctors and company will give us the green light without hesitation.

The other numbers that I'm not so excited about is my weight and consequent blood pressure. I was really diligent with my diet and exercise until we were without power a for week due to some local tornadoes. After that, work got crazy and all I could manage to keep up was a spinning class once a week and playing on my company's softball team. Diet?! Pssssht! What diet?! I've done more eating out and SWAGing this past month than I care to admit. So I'm hoping that my physical exercise is enough to give me a normal BP reading, at least. I've been testing on my own about once a week, and although I've been landing in a normal range, there's always white coat syndrome. Weight-wise, I'm exactly where I was in February, even though my legs appear a bit toned thanks to spinning. I'm trying to get back in the groove with exercise AND diet.

Non-diabetes wise, I also have a dentist's appointment the week following my endo appointment. And I also need to schedule an appointment with a PCP, and I'm still on the hunt for one I can be comfortable with.

Such is the life with diabetes, it seems. Just as soon as life gets busy enough to make diabetes the background noise in your life, you get an alert on your calendar to go get blood work done for your endocrinologist's appointment the next week. Then diabetes comes back into full focus, exactly where I hate for it to be.

At least I have a new toy (re: Nook) to keep me entertained in the waiting area.

Baby Confession

2011-06-08T08:49:00.000-05:00

So as I've posted a few times before that Trey and I are preparing our home (namely, my diabetic body) for pregnancy. I am incredibly excited to be a mom someday and hold my own little son or daughter.

But.

I have a baby confession I need to make. When it comes to babies that I consider "mine" (like my nephews), I have no problem holding them and playing with them or their projectile fluids. But when it's other people's kids, I have this sort of hands-off approach where I'm standing at arms length saying "Awww, how cute!" I know babies are just little balls of spewing bodily fluids ready to blow at any time, like a volcano--it's a scientific fact. And I have this issue with having other people's snot, puke, or poop on me. (I guess I'm weird.) So when I'm holding someone else's baby through some random pass around, I don't sit there thinking how cute they are. I keep looking for the signs of an eruption in their facial expressions. Such was the case the other day at work.

One of the ladies in our office just had her 3rd daughter (!) and brought her into the office to show off. I heard all the cooing coming from the hallway, so I walked into her office to see the little angel (at arms length). But before I knew it, I was handed the 2-month-old infant with a "You wanna hold her?" Well, I guess so. (I suppose there's some general assumption that all women old enough to procreate are able to hold babies. I'd like to start a campaign to squash this assumption. Who's with me?) "Sure, I'll hold it." IT! I called this woman's daughter an "it" like my 2 neutered dogs. *slaps face*

So I'm holding this infant, carefully watching her expressions to see if my white sweater was about to become a neutral shade of puke, then she smiled. Whoa! Not even with my nephews have I ever held an infant and they smiled in my arms. For a moment, I forgot my fear of handling other people's DNA and enjoyed holding her. She opened her eyes for me and I said, "Hi!" And she gave me this look like, "Wait a minute! You're not my mommy!", then she started to squirm. And I gave her back to her mom.

Everyone has told me, "It's different when it's your own kid." I sure hope so, because I need to be comfortable with a little ball of flesh oozing bodily fluids from all entries. But at least half of the fluids will be coming from me. How beautiful!

Personal (Under)Wear

2011-06-06T09:35:00.000-05:00

The temperatures this week have brought summer ROARING into the southeastern United States. During these hotter months, I like to wear really comfortable cotton sundresses, complete with a pony tail and flip flops--classy. However, this presents an issue when it comes to wearing my pump Arnold. I know some of my gal pal diabetics like to wear a thigh holsters or some Spanx-type shorts with a pump pocket. To me, both of those options add an extra piece of clothing that I can't handle with the heat and sweat. So what's a girl to do?

Enter hiphugger underwear! I'm a rather hippy girl to begin with (and not in the "groovy" kind of way, but in the I've got a nice set of "birthin' hips" as my mom would say), so underwear choice is a very important decision for me. Not long after I got Arnold, I noticed that the amount of fabric covering my hips was exactly enough to hold Arnold in place in his long-rectangular form with the tube parallel to the floor (have you got the image? because I'm not taking a picture for you). This set-up is perfect for wearing flowy sundresses because you can't see the pump outline on my hip. Even though I favor the hiphugger shape in underwear, this also goes for briefs or "granny panties" if you please.

So why am I sharing this extremely personal information with the entire internet? Well I just wanted to make sure that every girl sporting a pump is privy to this information because it would be the type of nugget that I would want to know. Also because this type of information is also great if you don't have PJs that have pockets (which dictates my PJ purchase nowadays). And if you have another tip for hiding a pump in your everyday wear, then let me know in the comments!

The Rest of That Week

2011-05-31T09:05:00.000-05:00

About 2 weeks ago, I promised to recap the rest of the week after the April 27th tornadoes that came through our area. So what has happened since then that has prevented me from doing so? I've been locked away in a lab doing some high voltage tests on flight instruments, unable to keep up with the social media world. (I'VE MISSED YOU GUYS!!!) But I do want to give you guys a small recap, because diabetes was in the mix during all that mess. Then I can get back to regular diabetes shenanigans.

The morning after the storms was like camping. We broke out the Coleman stove and our camping kitchenware and made fried eggs and oatmeal. We were also able to make coffee using boiled water and our French press (I knew that thing would come in handy one day). After breakfast, we attempted to begin the cleanup process. Trey began cleaning up the yard, and I proceeded to cleanup . . . the house?! As strange as it sounds, it made me feel better during all the chaos to keep a clean house.

Soon after we cleaned up, we got a call that a relative of ours had an extra generator they could lend us. So we hopped in the car with barely enough gas to get us there and back. We attempted to get gas while we were out, but most places were either without power or had lines over 2 miles long. You'd waste more gas sitting in line than what you would get. While we were out, I got in touch with most of our friends to make sure they were OK, but cell phone connection was spotty at best.

Back at home, we hooked up the generator and plugged in all our necessary appliances: refrigerator, freezer, coffee pot, the essentials. We also plugged in the radio, which was our main source of communication to the outside world. Callers would tell the DJs where there was gas, generators, food, etc.

And when we weren't outside cleaning up debris, we were inside listening to the radio and getting by on our own entertainment. Trey would play one of his non-online games on his laptop, and I would lose myself in the book Helter Skelter. I've always wanted to read this book, and this week provided the perfect opportunity. It's been such a long time since I read a book for fun, and with nothing else to do all day, I would camp out on the couch and read until there wasn't anymore light. I would even go outside and read on the patio to get the last few minutes of daylight that I could. I finished the book on the last day before we got power back.

We eventually settled into a routine each day where we would get up, turn on the generator, make some breakfast, clean up our yard or help out our neighbors with their yard, fix some lunch, hang out listening to the radio while reading or playing, make dinner, and go to bed with the sun around 8 PM. Showers became something I looked forward to and feared at the same time with temperatures around, oh, freezing. As some restaurants became open (on generators), we would spend most of our meals out just to escape the house for awhile. This lead to the decline in my diabetes control.

The first part of the week, my numbers were awesome. We were spending most of our time pretty active in cleaning up the branches and tree limbs in our yard. But towards the end of the week when were just hanging out and going out to eat, my numbers started creeping up. Also, I was missing one thing pretty vital to my diabetes management--routine! I was so out of sorts without exercising and carb counting. I bumped up my basal rates towards the end of the week to account for the creeping, and they've stayed there ever since. I'm hoping that they can start to come back down now that I can keep a steady routine.

Six days later we got power back, and 13 days later we got cable/internet. The debris is (mostly) gone and life has gotten back to (somewhat) normal. And I've learned several things that I need to be better prepared for another natural disaster: a battery-powered or hand-crank radio, back-up to my back-up D supplies (thankfully, I just did a pharmacy refill right before the storms), and always ALWAYS have a good book on hand.

As the cleanup here still goes on and we see the saddening effects of other storms in Joplin and other areas, I hope we all take a moment to be better prepared and remember those who lost their lives. We were EXTREMELY lucky during all this to only have lost a tree and some meat in the freezer. Some people lost everything! I still get a little choked up on my ride home where the horizon of pine trees has been lost to what looks like toothpicks with no branches. Thanks to everyone who sent me texts and emails asking if we were OK. Above everything else, I'm so glad to have the love of the DOC!

How NOT to Correct a Low

2011-05-10T08:15:00.000-05:00

I know I promised you guys a post about the rest of the week following the tornado (and I promise I'm working on it), but I decided to split up the seriousness with a how-not-to guide to correcting a middle-of-the-night low blood sugar, which was inspired from events last night.

How to Correctly Address a Low Blood Sugar:

Respond to CGM alarm or low blood sugar symptoms.
Test blood sugar.
Eat 15 grams of fast-acting carbohydrates.
Wait 15 minutes and test blood sugar again.
If blood sugar is in-range, eat a protein-filled snack. If not, repeat steps until blood sugar rises.

How to NOT Correct a Low Blood Sugar:

Remove itchy CGM site and resolve to put on a new one in the morning rather than stay up 2 hours to calibrate and more than likely be awoken all night to false readings.
Wake up at midnight, drenched in sweat, heart pounding out of my chest, legs refusing to move.
Stumble to bathroom to test blood sugar: 42 mg/dL.
Decide that wiping sweat off of entire body is more important than getting to the kitchen for juice.
Shuffle to the kitchen and turn on the light.
Fill a glass full with mango juice and suck it down in 2 seconds.
Decide that one glass isn't enough and suck down another.
Eat about 3 handful of M&Ms.
Eat 10 pepperoni slices (I have no idea on this one, but I was on low brain so . . . yeah).
Drink a glass of milk.
Finish off a bag of dried apricots of which there were about 20 (I think) left.
Eat a few more M&Ms.
Walk back to the bathroom to wipe sweat off of hair.
Fall back in bed to a slightly awoken spouse, "You OK?" he asked. "Yeah, I just ate about half the kitchen. I hope you didn't want any mango juice."
Decide that the low was extremely over-corrected, but don't care and just want to go to sleep.
Wake up to a fasting blood sugar of 316 mg/dL and curse at diabetes.

And now you know. =)

Surving a Tornado: A Diabetic's Tale

2011-05-09T09:30:00.000-05:00

There is so much to be recapped that happened last week. I've thought for awhile how to try to write about it, and the only way is to give a recap of that day, April 27th. For those that don't know what I'm talking about, a multiple tornado outbreak struck Alabama last week, killing hundreds and displacing thousands. Our area was hit pretty hard, but we came out of it extremely lucky.

Wednesday, April 27th, 2011

Got up that morning and it was already raining. I let the dogs out to pee and let them eat in the garage. I get ready for work, all the while the radio breaks in with tornado watches and thunderstorm warnings in our area. The National Weather Service gave our area a tornado potential of 9 for today (out of 10). I debated leaving for work until this line passed, but it ended just as I was packing my lunch.

Get to work and continue to watch the radar, which isn't hard with an office full of weather geeks. Another line was coming through at 10 AM. I watched its path intently, but it seemed to go north of us. I called our neighbors to see if our dogs were still OK outside. They said they couldn't see them, but they barely got any rain anyway. They asked me if I wanted them to let them in before the next line was to hit at 12 PM. I said they didn't have to, but it would be a decision I would later regret.

At 11:30 AM, a tornado warning was issued for our area, and we got an announcement to make our way down to the basement. I grab my things and head down to the very stinky basement with the rest of my colleagues. We all crowd around smart phones as we try to watch the radar. The rain outside was pounding. We tried to keep ourselves entertained as much as we could with Angry Birds and conversation while the storm passed. Then someone said something that would make my heart sink, "A tornado has been seen on the ground northwest of us." My heart sank. Even though we were safe, my mind immediately jumped to our house and our two dogs outside. I texted Trey that I was going to leave as soon as it was safe to do so, my hands were shaking I was so worried.

I was finally able to leave my office at 12:30 PM, but it took me over an hour to get home due to the debris that had already blocked the roads. It was the longest hour of my life. With each turn that I made, I saw more destruction. Five foot diameter trees were uprooted. Fences blown over. Powerlines were sagging where the posts were snapped. The whole time, I was just trying to maintain my sanity. If that house had their fence torn apart, surely ours wouldn't have made it. I kept thinking of all the trees in our backyard, and seeing several trees on tops (and through) people's homes. I felt tears begin to fall down my face as I got closer to my street. I had to drive in the middle of one street where the sides were beginning to flood. One more road to go, but in my heart I had already prepared myself for the worst when I got home.

I was about to turn on my street where a line of cars were being stopped by a policeman. Most cars were trying to go straight to get to the main road, I was trying to turn left to my house. "Where you headed?" the policeman asked. "I live down there, on the left." "You can try, but it's blocked a ways up there." I didn't care, I would run a mile if I had to. I just wanted to get home. I came over the hill before our driveway, and the powerline across the street had been snapped in two and was draped across the road. I parked in our neighbor's driveway, and I saw Roscoe coming out of some bushes next to the house, barking at me. Missy was not far behind him. "Thank you, God!" I ran across the flooded ditch in my dress pants and heels, turned the key, and ran to the garage. I let my dogs in and fell on my knees and broke down. I probably cried for a good 5 minutes, embracing my soaked, muddy dogs like they had just come back from the dead. I attempted to dry them off with some towels, but we didn't have much time before the next line was about to come through.

I gathered all 4 pets, my phone, and a flashlight, and crammed all of us in our bedroom closet. Trey was still at work, but they had lost power. He said he would attempt to come home after this next line came through. I have to give big props to my friend Jessica for keeping me informed through the storm. I was unable to locate a hand radio before we needed to take cover, so she texted me while I was in the closet and kept me informed of the storm's location. I was able to peek out of the closet one time, and the rain was coming down so hard I couldn't see past our deck. It was like being inside a car wash, and all you see is the water streaming down. The power was already out, so I lied down in the closet with the little LED flashlight.

At this point, I have to admit, I was scared. The wind was howling outside, with faint sounds of cracking--I knew it was trees being snapped. As I sat in the closet listening to the storm, I began to pray. I had never been through a storm like this before, and I had already seen the destruction from the previous line. I wasn't scared of dying, but I was afraid of how. I prayed that if this was my time to go, that God would send an angel to take my body before I felt any pain. I wanted my soul to be taken just before the tornado would hit our house. Tears began rolling down my face. I couldn't believe it, I was ready to die.

The storm eventually passed, but I was still in the closet. I was about to fall asleep, using Roscoe as a pillow, when I heard, "Holly!" I jumped out of the closet and ran down the hall, Trey had made it home safe and sound. With a few minutes of daylight left, we went outside to check on our neighbors. Our across-the-street neighbors had a tree fall in their dining room, but they had already tarped over it. Our next door neighbors also had a tree fall and graze their house. We had a tree fall on our back fence.

Now that the storms were over, we geared up for what was already predicted to be a long hiatus without power. We got in my car to try to drive around our street so we could park it in our driveway. As we turned the corner down our street, I broke down. The devastation was overwhelming, and we didn't even know the extent of it yet.

Next, I'll focus on the following week: the cleanup, running on a generator, cold showers, rekindling my love of reading, hauling trees, and how my blood sugars played during all this.

I'm Here!!!

2011-05-06T13:51:00.000-05:00

Hey, guys! I know it's been a long time since I posted, but we had some pretty bad tornadoes last week that knocked out our power for 6 days. I'm still without internet at the house (currently slummin' it at a Starbuck's), but I wanted to let you all know that we're OK. I will try to do an at-length post about the whole ordeal later when I can wrap my head around it.

But I just wanted to check in for now and say that I'm alive and well, and still trying to get through the clean-up process.

Identify Yourself

2011-04-26T08:30:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned in my post last week, my first medical ID bracelet broke when it got caught on a loose string. Here is the broken bracelet:

You can see the broken lobster clasp in the upper right corner.

So I got online that night to order a new one. Why the urgency to buy another bracelet? I know some diabetics wear a medical ID, some don't, and some rely on their insulin pump to be their ID. My mom ordered my first ID before I even got out of the hospital, so she obviously believed in the power of the medical ID. And I can't count how many times I've heard of car wrecks where the driver experienced "diabetic symptoms" (as the radio announcer calls it).

But what really put me over the edge to have a medical ID at all times is a conversation I had with an EMT friend last year. He noticed my bracelet and praised me for being responsible for wearing one. I honestly asked him if wearing this thing was even worth it, or was I wasting good wrist space for a cuter piece of jewelry. "Oh no," he said, "It's definitely worth it, especially if you wear it on your wrist. If you're debilitated, an EMT will check your pulse on your wrists' first as part of a vitals check. And if they see you have a chronic disease that could be contributing to you being out of it, the faster we can treat you."

So there you have it, from the mouth of the one person or party who would actually use my medical ID. It's worth it. By far, it's the cheapest life-saving device you can buy.

But that doesn't mean my medical ID can't be cute, either. So back to my online hunt. I wanted an ID that would be cute but also obviously a medical ID. I eventually stumbled upon StickyJ where I found pretty decently priced IDs with a plethora of bracelet options. I settled on a heart-shaped charm with my full name on the front and my conditions on the back.

I have diabetes in my heart.

I wear this ID at all times, even during softball games when we're technically not supposed to wear any jewelry. No one's ever given me trouble about it, but I will argue that this is not a piece of jewelry to me. This small piece of sterling silver is just as vital as my insulin pump or CGM in my diabetes management.

I try to tell as many people as I can that I'm diabetic when safety situations call for it (like my spinning instructor, softball coach, and lab coordinator), but this bracelet would be able to tell the world when I can't.

Everything

2011-04-22T07:38:00.000-05:00

Today is Good Friday, the day of the ultimate Passover when Jesus took on the sins of the world as the blood sacrifice. When Jesus said, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" it wasn't because he felt abandoned on the cross. It was because Jesus was wearing all the sins of the world at once, and God couldn't bear to look on Him.

"Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" ~John 1:29

I love this skit to Lifehouse's "Everything". It pretty much sums up the hope and meaning of the cross in 5 minutes, 33 seconds. Especially the last part with the knife, because I know several people with diabetes have felt that hopeless. Gives me chills every time I watch it.

Happy Easter!

Freakin' Out!!!

2011-04-19T08:30:00.000-05:00

I have a confession to make: I'm not the most graceful, organized person (please contain your shock), especially when I'm stressed. And when it comes to the devices of technology that I rely on to keep me alive, I am particularly anxious. If one of them goes missing, I pretty much become a basket case.

Yesterday I started a new project at work, which wouldn't be an incredibly stressful thing except I also had my first softball game yesterday. So I was at a new place and out of my routine--something that diabetics thrive on. I had already missed my afternoon snack, sending me low in the middle of a lab test, so I was already frazzled. With 15 minutes left before I needed to leave, I went to the bathroom to change from my work clothes to my softball clothes.

I was wearing a really pretty peasant dress yesterday that had no pockets. Arnold was securely tucked away in my undergarments, but Constance would switch from my purse to my jacket pocket so I could keep an eye on her. In my hurry to get dressed, I put Constance in my shorts pocket when my medical ID got caught on a loose string. I pulled with one, swift jerking motion and *SNAP* the lobster clasp broke. "Fantastic!" I sarcastically retorted. I had this bracelet since my diagnosis, so it was bittersweet to know it was broken (even though it was still sporting my maiden name). I threw my broken bracelet into my bag, threw my hair into a ponytail, and headed out to my car.

I called Trey on the way, and he asked if I was going to eat before my game at 6 PM. "I'm stopping at a gas station right now to get a candy bar or something." I was about to get out of my car when I reached for Constance in my pocket . . . except she wasn't there! "Nooooooo . . ." I whispered. I immediately freaked! I frantically started going through my gym bag, purse, jacket where she hung out most of the day. I got out of the car and thoroughly inspected underneath the passenger and driver's seats. I forgot the candy bar and jumped back in my car headed back to the lab where I just came from.

I ran back to the lab the same way I came out, scanning the parking lot for my black-colored egg, starting my Easter celebrations early. I went back to the bathroom where I got dressed and got on the floor looking for my trusty CGM. I made 2 more loops around the parking lot (I considered this my "warming up" for the game) before giving up and deciding that my poor little CGM was lost somewhere in a dark place, crying and BEEEEEEEPing for me to find her. I fell back in my car, exhausted and crying, I kept saying "No, no, no!!!" over and over.

I was already considering making some of these.

I immediately called Dexcom and inquired how much a new receiver would be. They told me that since my receiver was still under warranty that I would only have to pay half of its normal value (just FYI if you've ever wondered). I decided to wait on ordering another one because I'm not the greatest at finding things, especially when I'm running late/stressed/tears running down my face. I told myself I would wait until I got home and Trey and I could take apart the car together.

I parked at the softball fields, already running 10 minutes late, I decided to go through the car one. more. time. I go through my gym bag, purse, and jacket on the passenger's side as well as looking underneath the seat (also note to self: Holly, clean your car! Pretty sure I interrupted some dust mites having dinner). Then I go over to the driver's seat and looked between the seat and the center console . . . and there she was, neatly tucked between the seat belt clasp and the center console department. I could barely see the familiar opening where the charger cable plugs into. It was as if I put her there on purpose.

I pushed my monstrous hands (yes, for a girl, I have big hands) pass the seat and grab my long-lost CGM and actually kissed it! "Thank you!" I said as a prayer back to God for the many, many "Please help me find it!"s I said on the way to the ballpark. I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the field, contemplating using duct tape to tape the receiver to my leg. Constance showed that I was 153 mg/dL headed straight up (hello, stress).

So I ended up having a great game, including scoring a nice welt on my left leg from a slide. I went home and Trey and I ordered me a new medical ID. All the while I kept patting my pocket every 5 ~~minutes~~ seconds to make sure that Constance didn't decide to fall out again.

Little Close to Home

2011-04-11T08:53:00.001-05:00

This post discusses the movie Soul Surfer that came out this past weekend. Thus, it may contain some spoilers that may or may not reduce your own personal enjoyment of the film. You've been WARNED!!!

This past weekend was the best weekend I've had all year. Mexican dinner Friday night with friends, dog park on Saturday followed by a steak dinner at home while watching The Town (excellent movie!), and Sunday was church followed by a matinee movie. The movie we saw was Soul Surfer--the story of pro-surfer Bethany Hamilton who lost her left arm in a shark attack when she was 13-years-old.

I was initially drawn to this movie because of Bethany's outspokenness about her faith, something that I struggle with all the time. While I'm definitely not a pro-surfer, there was one scene in the movie that felt eerily close to me. The day after the shark attack, Bethany is laying in the hospital bed with her dad sitting in the chair next to her. She wakes up and notices her dad crying and she tells him, "Dad, don't cry." Her dad covers his face and says, "I'm not crying." Yeah, right.

That scene took me back to that hospital room in early December 2006 when my dad walked into the room, took one look at me, and turned around to cover his face. "I'm OK, Dad. Don't cry." It didn't matter, though, because my dad had already lost it. I'm pretty sure I looked like death with a tube in my nose, IVs in my arm, and hair that hadn't been washed in 3 days. My dad drove 5 hours to see his daughter like this, a hard site for sure.

After watching Soul Surfer, I got to see my diagnosis from the point of view of my loved ones. I could never imagine how Trey felt when he had to carry my lifeless body to the hospital after I had collapsed into DKA. I can't imagine what my parents thought when they saw me giving myself shots, wanting to help, but not wanting to interfere because they knew I had to do this on my own . . . for the rest of my life. I never knew how many countless prayers and phone calls were made on my behalf. I never knew or saw the worry; I was just trying to recover. But Soul Surfer brought me to the other side, and watching it was almost too much.

What really struck me about Bethany was her constant positive attitude. Only once did she get frustrated and give up on surfing, but it was for a short while. She gave God the glory to the fact that she was still alive and was given the public platform of professional surfing to give hope and inspiration to countless others. She took her tragedy and turned it into her testimony.

I'll probably never have the platform that Bethany has, but I still wonder how my having diabetes is supposed to fit into my testimony. I've written how having diabetes makes my soul stronger, but how can I use that for God's glory? Other than this blog, I haven't really shared how my diabetes and faith fit together. But I definitely feel a kinship to Bethany because we both lost something. Her loss is more evident, whereas mine is invisible. Her positivity, even through her actress playing her character, was infectious and I hope I can be as much of an inspiration as she is.

Relaxing on the Weekend

2011-04-04T08:48:00.000-05:00

Managing diabetes is best done on a consistent routine. As such, I'm very diligent about my diabetes management during the week. I eat the same thing for breakfast almost everyday, and it's easy for me to count my carbs using my handy dandy MFP app. I also have an accommodating job that allows me to hear Constance and test whenever I need to. Barring some 2-hour long meeting or the random tornado warning that sends the entire office down into the basement (like maybe today?), diabetes and me work well during the week.

However, the weekend is a totally different story. My weekends start as soon as I leave the office on Friday afternoons, because we usually go out to dinner with friends. Then, on Saturdays we hang out around the house, consuming a big breakfast and 2 pots of coffee while watching some home remodeling shows. If we don't have any immediate plans, I will spend a few hours cleaning the house, so there's some exercise. I try to be diligent about testing at least before meals, but I admit I rely on Constance to alert me to a high or a low. On Sundays, we head to church, have lunch, and I spend the afternoon doing laundry and getting ready for another week. Again, I test before each meal, but I forget to check 2 hours later to see if I'm still in-range. This is pretty much my routine for every weekend we are in town. And if we happen to go out of town to visit family or family comes to us, then diabetes management all but goes out the window.

This is something I'm trying to nip in the bud, especially since I'm planning for pregnancy and I can't take a break on the weekends with a little bud growing inside of me. I'm pretty sure if you did an average of my BG readings per day of the week, it would be around 120 mg/dL on Wednesdays and 180 mg/dL on Saturdays. If you take the average of these weighted by the day of the week (cuz I'm a math nerd), that gives me an average of 137 mg/dL. I'm either going to have to lower my average during the week (which I don't want to do, especially since I've got the exercise thing going on), or try to wrangle in these weekend numbers.

I've tried to do some things like increasing my protein intake for those big Saturday morning breakfasts or having a lighter lunch in preparation for the larger dinners. I'm also trying to sneak in an exercise session on Sunday afternoons like bike riding or walking the dogs, something that I enjoy that's not as intense as my exercises during the week. This past weekend, I was getting really frustrated with seeing my 24 hour line hanging out around my 180 mg/dL threshold that I thought I had a bad site or bad insulin. But this morning I woke up at 133 mg/dL and dropped to 60 mg/dL by the time I got to work. Nope, it wasn't a bad site or bad insulin, just bad diabetes management or what I like to call "User Error."

"I'll be right here if you need me."

Something's Working

2011-04-01T08:59:00.000-05:00

So 5 weeks have passed since my endo appointment where I was told to lose 10 pounds in order to help my elevated-but-not-high blood pressure issues. The first week, I upped my workout routine and decreased my diet mainly be getting rid of snacks and alcohol, and I lost one pound that week. After that, I was stalled, stuck, not moving, etc. for 3 weeks!! I stayed at the same weight for 3 weeks, battling lows after workouts, and constantly adjusting my basal rates. Luckily, I never gained, because I'm unsure if that would have made me give up.

It finally seemed like I found something that worked, BG-wise, for my basal rates because I stopped having so many unexplained lows and tweaked temporary basals for workouts. For example, for spinning class, I disconnect Arnold an hour before the class and don't bolus for my afternoon snack, which has to have a good combination of carbs and protein in it. I was finally able to go a week without having a low after working out. After that week, I broke my plateau and lost half a pound! It may not seem like much, but after 3 weeks of no change, I was happy to see any change at all!

This past week, I decided to change up a few things and do some different workouts via Netflix (other than the Wii. sorry, virtual trainer.) and increased my intensity at spinning class by increasing my resistance on the bike. And I did my best to maintain my diet during the week with some splurging on the weekend (I have to, or else I'll go insane!). I figured all this would (hopefully) lead to another half pound loss, but when I got on the scale this morning I saw a loss of one pound!!! A whole pound! I couldn't believe it! I actually smiled and said, "Huh," which is a lot of emotion for 5 AM in the morning.

So since my appointment, I have lost 2.5 pounds. But personally I have lost 4 pounds since the beginning of this year. Some people might not consider that a big deal, but for a type 1 diabetic having to balance cardio with insulin it's a huge deal! Plus, I'd rather not lose a whole bunch at once because I'll be more likely to bounce back up. I would love to keep up a one pound/week loss, but I'd feel safer with half a pound/week. Besides, it took me about 8 years to gain 20 pounds (hello, Freshman 15 plus five), so it's going to take some time for my body to get used to being lighter and stay that way.

I still have a ways to go: 7.5 pounds to meet my endo's goal and 14.5 to my personal goal. I really think the spinning class has a lot to do with it, honestly. I burn over 300 calories in 45 minutes in that class alone. One of the things that's a challenge right now is changing up my diet to keep my body guessing. It's so easy, diabetes-wise, to eat roughly the same thing everyday because I know how my body reacts to it. I'm slowly introducing different foods into my diet other than Greek yogurt, fiber cereal, and popcorn. All of those are fine, but I have all of those multiple times during the week. So I'd love any suggestions for changing up my food wardrobe if you have any.

I'm feeling really good today, not just because of the weight loss, but because I've found something that I love doing even if my weight loss stalls. I keep saying to myself, "Just keep spinning, just keep spinning. Spinning, spinning, spinning . . . "

So I have this idea . . .

2011-03-31T07:46:00.000-05:00

Ever since I came up with the term no-hitter in regards to going 24 hours without an alarm on a CGM, I've had a bunch of hits on that post. I've seen the term show up in a lot of places, and it's made me proud to see that. And since the term refers to baseball (and it's opening day), I've decided to create the No-Hitter Hall of Fame.

The idea is pretty simple: let's post our no-hitters in one place as a place of encouragement and honor. Include your name, date of your no-hitter, your personal high/low thresholds, and what you were doing on the day of your no-hitter (like "eating salad all day and doing nothing" or "ate pizza then ran a 5K"). Very rarely do we get medals for "winning" at diabetes (unless you've been living with it more than 50 years, and I've got very long to go before that), and what better way to feel like a winner than to be part of a hall of fame?!

You can email me your no-hitter at arnoldandme at gmail dot com. So far I've added mine and Stacey's no-hitter, and I would love to get more!

Hello, is This Thing On?

2011-03-30T08:41:00.000-05:00

I think Dexcom might be on to me. *looks over shoulder* You see, I was able to extend a lot of my sensors beyond their 7-day standard life to 10 days up to 19 days. This delayed me ordering another shipment for almost 2 months. So I think they secretly programmed all of my new sensors to die exactly on day 7 so that doesn't happen again.

I'm almost done with the first of 4 boxes of my latest Dexcom shipment, and each of those sensors have lasted 7-8 days and no more. My last sensor got the pink slip after it failed to alert me to a 35 mg/dL low and my current sensor started giving me "Sensor Failed" after I restarted it after its first 7 days.

My diligence to try to extend my sensors has only led frustration and lack of valid data for 10 of the past 24 hours. After 2 hours of "???" post-dinner, I was about to change out the sensor before bed. But it came back to life for 30 minutes. When I gave it my bedtime BG test, it responded with "Sensor Error #1", which standard protocol calls to wait one hour and try recalibrating. Not willing to stay up for another hour, I simply turned off the receiver with intentions to try to recalibrate it the next morning.

I turned the receiver back on and gave it my morning BG reading, and again I got "Sensor Error #1". "Fine! Die on me on Day 8! See if I care!" So I pulled the sensor out and put a new on post-shower (so it was half a free shower day). Two and a half hours later, it prompted me for my 2 BG readings.

Frustration.

I really don't like when I don't have a CGM overnight, but luckily my BG behaved. I know I shouldn't get upset about my sensors doing exactly what they're supposed to do--lasting 7 days. But the frugal side of me still wants to make these things last as long as possible.

Hardware Department

2011-03-28T08:33:00.004-05:00

I've had my trusty insulin pump Arnold for about 3.5 years now. But about 3 years ago, I noticed that changing the AAA battery out became quite a physical feat. You see, the general directions state that you can use a nickel or a quarter to open the battery cap. However, that little booger would not budge no matter how hard I pushed with George Washington's little head.

So I eventually had to use a flat-head screwdriver to open my battery cap. This works pretty well, except my battery cap gets more stripped each time I change my battery. I keep wondering if I'm ever going to get to a point where I will never be able to open the battery cap and will have to order a new pump, but I always get it open somehow.

Until recently.

This past Saturday, after a rainy day spent indoors cleaning the house, I was applying some lotion after drying out my hands with cleaning solution. When all of a sudden, "BOOP-BEEP-BOOP!" "Huh?! I should have plenty of insulin," I thought. I look down at Arnold and saw the empty batter symbol and "Low Battery" lit up by a green backlight. "Fantastic!" Nothing like trying to open a stubborn battery cap with a screwdriver with lotiony hands. It's like trying to put a cat covered in butter into a bath. Impossible!

After several attempts to open the battery cap, nothing was budging. Of course, my mind immediately goes to, "OMG, I can't get it open! I am going to die! Or at least have to give myself a shot every 2 hours until Monday because I don't have a prescription for Lantus!" I was freaking out . . . a little.

I run out to the garage where Trey was working on one of our cars with black, oil-stained hands. "HELP!" I said, holding my pump in one hand and the screwdriver in the other. "My hands aren't clean," he said. "I don't care. I can't get it open because I have lotion on my hands and I'm freaking out . . . a little." So he takes my pump and unscrews my battery cap while I held the new battery in my hand. He puts the new battery in, screws the lid down, and the screen comes back to life. "Thanks," I said, sighing at the same time. He smirks at me, knowing I was freaking out over something so simple, or to him at least.

Screwy insulin pump.

I do this every time it takes more than 2 attempts to change my battery. I am easily convinced that my life will end because I can never open it. I just need to keep in mind that I have the ultimate Hardware Department just a "Honey . . . " call away. Or maybe I'll just forgo the lotion next time.

Not Suppose to Happen

2011-03-24T09:40:00.001-05:00

Ever since I've had Constance, I haven't had a lot of lows below 50 mg/dL thanks to its handy alarm that goes off when I go below 55 mg/dL. And she's great about alerting me before then if I go below 70 mg/dL (my preset "Low" alarm). Needless to say, I was getting pretty good at feeling my lows and not letting them sneak up on me (hello, hypoglycemic unawareness). That is, until this past weekend . . .

This past weekend we were hosting my parents and nephews during their Spring Break (My nephews' Spring Break, not my parents. Retired people don't have Spring Breaks, do they?). So we spent most of the time trying to find activities that would keep a 9- and 11-year-old boy busy, active, and happy. We went bowling, played pool, played on the Wii, and chased our 2 dogs around in the yard. The combination of being a full-time aunt and hostess made for little diabetes management. One day I only tested my blood sugar 3 times the whole day! (Preview of motherhood?)

So I pretty much relied on Constance to keep me alert to any out-of-range happenings in my blood sugar. I know that's not her purpose, but I felt confident in her keeping me on track. And one afternoon, after a series of movies and Wii time, I felt a little "off". Nothing crazy, just a little shaky and feeling fuzzy in the head. Constance said I was holding steady in the low 80s, so I didn't worry when I tested expecting a reading between 70-90 mg/dL. However, a gleaming 35 mg/dL welcomed me on my screen! I didn't want to alert or scare anyone, so I stealthily grabbed a glass of juice and filled it to the brim. I sucked it down and grabbed an ice scream bar from the freezer (which we don't normally have, but we were spoiling our nephews . . . and ourselves).

I walked out to the garage where Trey was working on something, and sat down beside where he was working. Even though my parents and nephews know I'm diabetic, I didn't want to make a scene. But I needed to let someone know how low I was in case things got worse. "I'm 35." "Whoa, really?!" Trey exclaimed. "Yeah, I didn't feel that one coming." I just sat there for 30 minutes, eating my ice cream bar while Trey continued working. "This sucks," I said, finally gaining enough composure to speak. "How am I going to be able to keep up with our kids when a weekend with our nephews wipes me out?" Trey jokingly said, "Maybe having kids can be your cure?" I smiled, and went back inside to test, 110 mg/dL. I knew I was coming up fast and over-corrected, but a 35 mg/dL scares the crap out of me too much to be conservative.

This incident only confirms the fact that I shouldn't rely on my CGM in place of finger stick tests. Had I not tested because Constance thought I was in the low 80s, there's no telling how low I would have gotten! At the same time, I expect her to alert me well before a 35 mg/dL when I'm low. That sensor was fired and changed out on its 8th day, because I do not consider a 50 points difference a passing grade. The current sensor is working like a champ the way I expect it to. Regardless, incidents like these shouldn't happen.

"Please, sir, I want some more."

2011-03-17T14:51:00.000-05:00

The past day has been a whirlwind for me with my endo and getting a new test strips prescription. It actually all started on Sunday when I went by the pharmacy to pick up a new refill for all things diabetes: insulin, syringes, strips, and glucagon. The cashier hands me my bag o' diabetes and I double check the strips amount because a lack in communication has occurred before. I peek in the bag and notice that I'm short 50 strips. I asked the pharmacist why I only had 150 strips when my prescription was written for 200x/month. Turns out my endo wrote in parentheses after 200x, "test 5x/day". So my insurance company interpreted that to mean only 150x/month.

I figured this was a simple glitch on my endo's part. So I called his office first thing on Monday morning to ask the Rx to be rewritten. I leave a message on the nurse's voicemail, "Hello, this is Holly, birthday eleven twenty-nine nineteen eighty-four, pharmacy is 'such-and-such' Pharmacy on 'blankity-blank' road, and I need Dr. Special (not his real name, but he has a 'special' sense of humor) to rewrite my prescription for strips from 5x/day to 6x/day. Thank you!" Well, the little voicemail message said to allow 48 hours for prescription requests. So I (not-so) patiently waited until Wednesday afternoon to call my pharmacy to see if the prescription had been changed. "Yeah, I don't see anything from your doctor," the pharmacist said. So I braced myself for calling my endo's office . . . again.

This time I refused to be sent to a mailbox, so I optioned for the receptionist to get a live person. "Hi, this is Holly, I'm a patient of Dr. Special, and I called on Monday to have him change my prescription for strips from 5x/day to 6x/day and that hasn't been done yet?" I inquired as if asking, "And why hasn't this been done yet?" I get put on hold for a few minutes and the receptionist comes back and says . . .

"Well, his nurse said that 5x/day should be enough since you're wearing a monitor and only need to test 3x/day."

I stumbled for words before I finally said, "Uhhh yeah, that's not going to work for me. I want to have 6x/day." Nevermind the fact that CGMs are not meant to replace finger stick tests, what made me mad is that I told my endo at my last appointment that I wanted 200/month and he didn't even blink! I really didn't appreciate that he was changing my prescription without talking to me first. Well the little receptionist said, "We'll need to talk to the doctor about this. We'll call you back." Yeah, OK. This was about 2 PM yesterday, and I never heard back.

I was steaming after that phone call! Forget about lowering my blood pressure! Every vein in my body was pulsing with rage, frustration, and sadness. Three times a day?! Sometimes I test that many times before breakfast! I mean I love Constance and all, but she is not accurate enough for me to rely on her 100% of the time. The fact that my endo would suggest this meant to me that he is ignorant of the purpose of CGMs and was abusing their purpose. However, this information was being relayed 2nd-hand through his nurse and receptionist. I could only HOPE this was a huge error in communication.

I called again today after lunch (giving them plenty of time to call me back) to see if I was about to make the decision to change endocrinologists. I get the receptionist on the phone and she said, "Yes, a new prescription for test strips was sent to your pharmacy for 6x/day, 200x/month." "OK, thank you." So I have my strips, for now. But I hope at my next appointment in June that my endo doesn't allude to me needing to test less because I wear a CGM. It's an extra tool, not a replacement. It would be like trying to use a screwdriver as a hammer, it just doesn't work the same way. But I should trust my endo to know that!

As much as this infuriates me, the last thing I want to do is change endocrinologists. The next closest options for me are another office 45 minutes away or a university hospital 2 hours away! I know my endo is not the best endo I could possibly have, but he's honestly all I've got. And I really don't want to go through the process of changing doctors at this time in my life (see also: planning for pregnancy). But right now I feel like Oliver in the orphanage asking for more gruel. I feel like I'm being punished and put through the mill for wanting to take better care of myself than what 3x/day would result.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need to see a copy of your insurance card first. Mmmmkay?"

Lows with Lowering Weight

2011-03-15T08:31:00.000-05:00

So it's been 2 weeks since my endo suggested that I lose 10 lbs in order to lower the elevated blood pressure I've been having. And I've stuck to my diet for the most part (usually within 100 calories of my goal) and have kept up a good workout routine including 2 spinning classes a week, jogging 2 miles around my neighborhood, and frequenting my Wii Fit Plus.

I knew once I started losing weight that my insulin needs would decrease. This has been evident by the increased number of lows that I've been having. As far as the scale goes, I've only lost one pound since my appointment, but my body feels like it's more. But I need to something about these lows because the calories spent correcting them will only hinder my weight loss. For example, an 8-minute ride on the stationary bike at physical therapy had me at 47 mg/dL?!

I don't think my basal rate(s) need to be messed with at this time, because my nighttime numbers are spot on if I go to bed in range (80-130 mg/dL). The majority of my lows seem to occur after working out, which means I'm not disconnecting Arnold soon enough or I'm jacking up my IOB from my meals. And my insulin:carb ratio seems to have my post-prandials a little lower than I like for them to be. So I decreased my I:C ratio from 1:12 to 1:15 in hopes of avoiding these lows, and I'll make a point to disconnect Arnold (or at least turn him down) to avoid the post-workout lows.

But I would love to hear from another type 1 diabetic who has successfully lost weight! Please, help me figure out how to avoid these lows so I'm not wasting a spinning class on glucose tabs. And as delicious as it is, I'm getting tired of eating spoonfuls of peanut butter before bed. Any advice/suggestions would be extremely helpful!

Using Diabetes to My Advantage

2011-03-11T08:33:00.000-06:00

We all have to manage our diabetes. We test our blood sugar, take insulin, and try to get some exercise, all for the sake of better blood sugar management. But sometimes we can actually make diabetes work for us.

I came across this idea when I woke up this morning to a blood sugar reading of 67 mg/dL. Yeah, it's low, but it's not a fall-down-inject-me-with-juice low. I can still function at this number. The past few days I have woken up on the lower end of my fasting range, mostly due to being more active in an effort to lose weight. I've only lost one measly pound (grrr!), but I know my body is getting stronger and building more muscle. So I expected that my insulin needs would decrease. Anyway, back to my point . . .

My usual routine when I wake up is to test, bolus for breakfast, and take a correction bolus to account for the dawn phenomenon (DP) and time spent in the shower. Yesterday, I woke up to a similar number (65 mg/dL, I believe) and scarfed down 4 glucose tabs before jumping in the shower. Well, I forgot about the whole DP thing and ended up jumping up to 153 mg/dL before I even ate breakfast. So I decided this morning to forget the glucose tabs and the correction bolus altogether, just to see what happened. (Note: Please do not, under any circumstances, take this story as an example to be followed. You should definitely treat a low with glucose as the "official" treatment. See also: Disclaimer. See also: Your diabetes may vary.) I get out of the shower about 20 minutes later (yeah, it's wasteful but I like to "wake up" in the shower) and test again: 81 mg/dL! Woo hoo, back "in range"! So I bolus for my upcoming cereal and go about my day.

It's not often that I can actually use the fact that I'm diabetic as an advantage. It reminds me of the possibility of having an artificial pancreas, where I can manually insert glucose from my pump at any time instead of relying on glucose tabs or DP to do so. (Pssss, take a note, pump companies!) Besides, the less incidents of waking up chewing glucose tabs, the better.

Have a great weekend! (And please keep the people of the Pacific in your thoughts and prayers, especially those in Japan.)

(Not So) Ruined Workout

2011-03-09T08:40:00.011-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I went to my second (ever) spinning class. I'm still trying to figure out my insulin levels before this workout, because my greatest fear is going low during the class. Well, that fear came true yesterday.

It all started when I decided to have a snack (Fiber One Oats & Chocolate bar) in the afternoon. Dumbo me actually bolused for the whole bar (29 g) and I forgot to subtract the fiber for the net carbs, which seems to help me avoid lows on a regular, non-workout day. Also, I didn't disconnect Arnold until 30 minutes before the class. Last time, I disconnected an hour before, and even though I went for a half-mile walk beforehand to warm up my legs, I still didn't crash. So all these forces combined (like Captain Planet?) to have me at 83 mg/dL going south before the class according to Constance. I downed 5 glucose tabs as fast as I could, said a prayer, and hopped on the bike.

The class gets started. We warm up with our "leisurely stroll through the countryside", followed by sprint intervals. I checked Constance after the sprints and she said I was now 52 mg/dL heading southeast! I didn't hear her alarm over the blaring music, so I'm going to have to figure out a better scenario for having Constance in plain view rather than relying on hearing her. Frustrated, I threw my little bag down on the floor, almost to say, "Screw you, diabetes, I'm gonna keep spinning until I pass out." We start doing climbs in the standing position, and I notice that I almost lose my balance. "Hmmm, something must be wrong with this bike," I thought. Or your blood sugar, silly.

After the climbs the instructor told us to take a water break. Most people stay on the bike and keep pedaling while they grab their water from the holster below the handlebars. I finally got a level head and decide to jump off the bike and test. I could feel the 6 pairs of eyes on me all at once, but I had to do it for my own safety. By this point, Constance said I had leveled out to 55 mg/dL, so it seems my glucose tabs were finally kicking in. A test confirmed I was at 70 mg/dL, a little higher than my CGM. After that test, I felt confident enough that I could finish the rest of the 20 minutes of class. I jump back on the bike to finish out the class with some jumps.

The class ends, we stretch it out, I put my bike up, and walk back to the locker room to test my blood sugar again: 61 mg/dL. I eat 4 more glucose tabs, and call Trey, "Yeah, I'm gonna be a little while. I can't drive yet." With a mouth full of chalky remnants, I take a seat on the gym couches (really?! in the gym?) and wait out my low.

I love having couches at my gym.

At this point my instructor comes out of the locker rooms, and she stops to say how good I am doing for being so new to the class. "You're really keeping up with the rest of them," she smiles. "Thanks," I said back. "So, you're diabetic . . . " she inquires. "Yep, type 1." Then I go into how I wear an insulin pump and a CGM, the gizmo I was checking during class. She seemed to be comprehending what I was attempting to explain, and finished with, "Well, you're doing great, so keep it up."

Even though I completely wasted the calories that I burned with the amount of glucose tabs I ate, I know I'm doing more good for my leg muscles, lung capacity, and endurance. That's the positivity I'm clinging to right now, because if I focus on the fact that diabetes stole my calorie burn for the day I would never return to the gym. I know I'm building muscles that keep burning calories long after the workout is over, which increases my base metabolism. And I'll keep figuring out my insulin needs, and perhaps I'll forgo the insulin for the afternoon snack altogether. Either way, I can't give up on this. I won't give up on this!

Dealing with Insurace Company Phone Reps

2011-03-07T10:17:00.000-06:00

As a PWD (person with diabetes), I rely on having insurance to cover most of my medical bills. And by rely, I mean I expect certain things to go off without a hitch. Like getting pre-certification for physical therapy, for example.

My initial visit with my physical therapist was what was called a "diagnosis/recommended therapy" visit. This means that my physical therapist (PT) took a look at my knee, how I walked, and muscle structure and submitted a recommendation to my insurance company of what kind of therapy I needed. Said insurance company then receives the recommendation and submits a pre-certification back to my PT for said therapy. This process, in ideal theory, should take a business day (two at most) to get done, especially when you're expected to get 3 sessions of therapy a week for 4 weeks before the next orthopedic appointment in 6 weeks.

But . . .

Unless you stay on top of the insurance company like a rabid zombie gnawing on their neck, this process could take 2 weeks if left unattended. The initial call to my insurance company from my PT resulted in them telling my PT that this process would take 4 business days. This was somewhat annoying because it meant I was going to miss half a week of therapy (2 sessions) before I could come back. Well, 4 days come and go and my PT's office calls my insurance company again, inquiring about the pre-cert. and the very vague just-trying-to-get-you-off-the-phone answer was given, "It's in process." I hate getting this answer from anyone! Where in the "process" is it? How much longer should I expect to wait? Why would you give a timeline of 4 business days, miss the deadline without notifying us, and cease to apologize? It's absolutely a slap in the face to say "It's in process"!

So my PT's office calls me to let me know that I would have to cancel another schedule therapy session because they were still waiting on my pre-certification. I had turned from annoyed to infuriated. Being the very involved patient that I am, I asked for the number of the authorization office to take this matter in my own hand. I prepared myself for the inevitable bad mood that was about to follow this phone call, but luckily this comic strip gave me a giggle.

I called the number, went through the voice-automated responses (several times I got "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." Well, learn the Southern dialect Ms. Stick-up-your-butt Robot!) until I finally got a real person, in some department. I didn't really care which department, I just wanted a live person! Now, what irks me about calling any customer representative department is that they ask you several questions before you can even begin to ask yours.

Below is an (exaggerated) retelling of the phone call to my insurance company customer service number:

CR rep: "Hello, this is Monica (names have been changed to protect the guilty), can I have your name, address, member ID number, and blood of your first born child?"

Me: "Ummm, my name is Holly, my address is . . . , my member ID number is . . . , and I currently don't have any children, would the blood of one of my cats do?"

CR rep: "Certainly! What can I help you with?"

Me: "Well, I've been waiting on a pre-certification for physical therapy that my orthopedist recommended for me, and it's been 4 business days since my PT's office called for that. Where is it?"

CR rep: "Let me see . . . *clickity click click* . . . hmmm, I don't see where that request was made."

Me: "No, it's there. I just got off the phone with them, please look again."

CR rep: *clickity click click* . . . Ahhh, yes, there it is. I just had actually LOOK at the computer! Haha, silly me. Yes, it appears the request is in process (grrrr!!!) and it usually takes 7-10 business days to fulfill this request."

Me: "7-10 business days?! My PT's office was told 4, why is it taking so long?"

CR rep: "I don't have that information in front of me, that would be with the Authorizations Office."

Me: "Well, can you transfer me to them, please?"

CR rep: "Oh no, they don't deal with members directly, they only deal with providers."

Me: "Well, can you transfer me anyway? My provider has tried calling several times already."

CR rep: "I can see. Please hold."

*really bad elevator music plays*

CR rep: "Yes, I'm sorry, they won't talk to members directly, they only deal with providers."

Me: "Yeah, I don't care, I still want to be transferred and let them know that my provider is waiting for it."

CR rep: "OK, but they won't want to talk to you."

Me: "I don't care, they're GOING to talk to me. Please transfer me."

CR rep: " . . . Please hold."

*extremely bad elevator music plays*

AO rep: "This is Jennifer, can I have your name, address, member ID, and left ovary please?"

Me: "Left ovary? Why?"

AO rep: "Standard procedure, ma'am."

Me: "Ummm, OK. I am calling about a pre-certification for physical therapy. I was told it is in process, but I was wondering if there was any way to speed the 'process' so I don't miss physical therapy."

AO rep: *clickity click click* "I'm sorry, that request is not here."

Me: "No it is there, the person I talk to before you said it was. Please check again."

AO rep: *click* "I'm sorry, it's still not here. You need to have your doctor call to request it."

Me: "He HAS requested it! It is there! Please. Check. Again."

AO rep: "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's not there. I have looked." *click*

Me: "Hello? HELLO?! Son of a . . . !!!"

Yes, I was hung up on, by MY insurance company rep. I was fuming! This company is there to serve me! I am their customer, and they practically spat in my face! I was never rude or cussed, I just kept asking for answers to my problem that no one could give me. But I learned a few things about getting some results out of dealing with calling your insurance rep:

Be polite, but firm. I never cussed or raised my voice. I always ended everything in "please" and "thank you". This gives them no reason to refuse your request.
Refuse to end the call until you receive an answer. I didn't care if I would eventually be transferred to the head of the company, I was going to talk to someone until a) this matter was resolved or b) 5:00 PM, whichever came first.
Have your insurance card handy. By the end of the call, I about had my member ID memorized.
Be patient. I'm saying this to myself as well, but I refused to let another day go by without an answer.

My PT's office called me this morning at 9:00 AM and told me that the pre-certification had come in. "I don't know if it had to do with you calling them, but we got what we needed!" Oh, I'd like to think that I DID have something to do with it. ;-)

Spinning? Insane!

2011-03-04T08:25:00.000-06:00

So I bit the bullet yesterday and attended the spinning class I talked about. I was actually nervous all day about it, checking Constance to make sure I was going to be at a good number before the class, and taking mental notes about my knee. I had done some lunges the night before, and my knee was (not) thanking me for it. But I decided I was at least going to try.

I get to the gym and take a number for a bike; apparently, you have to reserve a spot for this class. Another guy took a number for the class, and asked me if it was my first time. "Yeah," I said sheepishly. Well, the very nice gentleman gave me the run down on the bikes, how to adjust my seat, and how nice the instructor was. "If you haven't warmed up your legs yet, I'd suggest doing so. This class can get pretty intense," he advised. "Thanks, but I just warmed up by doing the half-mile trail outside." Before this, I had disconnected from Arnold in order to be "unplugged" for an hour by the time the class started. I didn't want to take any chances of going low. I checked my blood sugar before the class: 135 mg/dL--perfect, a little high but not crazy. And I had Constance neatly tucked into a thigh holster I had purchased for my wedding:

Apparently my pump and CGM are the same size in spandex.

The instructor was running late, so the rest of the class members just started pedaling at their own pace as a warm-up. I followed suit, making sure my feet were properly strapped in. The instructor finally shows up, and the nice gentleman who helped me pointed me out to her as "We have a new person!" Greaaaaaat, nothing like calling me out to the whole class to make me feel welcome. She welcomes me and proceeds to tell me that my seat is too low. We adjust my seat together, and she takes her spot at the front of the class.

Now, anytime I've ever seen a spinning class on TV, I've always imagined a very sweaty Nazi-type lady with a perfect physique welling at everyone, "Faster!" Turns out the devil wasn't the trainer (she was very nice), it was that stupid resistance knob! After we warmed up, the instructor told us "Half a turn" and we would pick up the pace, standing on the bike, sprinting like our life depended on it. My legs felt like they were on fire! I honestly felt like stopping at one point, then the instructor said, "Twenty more seconds, all you've got!" I thought, "I can do 20 more seconds." I used that mindset the whole class when I felt like it was getting to be too much, "Just keep going, a few more seconds."

We ended the class doing "jumps", which means anytime the instructor said "Up!" we had to stand up on our bike and pedal like a gazelle until she said, "Down!" I wasn't as quick with my "jumps" as the other class members, but I held my own. We did these jumps for about 5 minutes, then ended the class with the lowest resistance and a "nice leisurely stroll through the countryside" as my instructor said. I kept a water bottle close at hand during the class, but I had my little bag of glucose tabs and mini meter behind my bike, just in case. I check my blood sugar at the end of the class: 104 mg/dL! I decided to remain unconnected for the drive home, in case my BG decided to take a nose dive after such an aerobic workout. My knee never gave me any trouble, either, so no worries there.

And what better way to arrive home than to my hubby making smoked salmon in the new grill for one of my favorite low-carb meals: Salmon Caesar Salad. And according to myfitnesspal, I burned 374 calories during my spinning class, which earned me the right to cheesecake after dinner in order to make my minimum calories for the day. Yum!

Oh yeah, and thank you guys so much for all the support after my Overwhelmed post. I've realized that it's probably not just my weight that's contributing to my blood pressure problems, but also my stressful lifestyle. I need to get out and do things that are fun, more than worrying about burning calories. And as much as I liked the spinning class, I'm looking forward to hitting the trails again (maybe this weekend).

Have a great weekend!

Overwhelmed

2011-03-01T09:15:00.000-06:00

Yesterday's endo appointment didn't go very well. I wasn't really expecting it to go great, but I didn't expect it to be as bad as it was. I had suspected that my A1c was going to increase from last time, but I figured I would land around my usual 6.5 that seems to follow me without much effort.

My appointment was at 8:30 AM across the interstate in downtown, so of course I visited the closest coffee shop on the way to grab an Americano for the hour-long drive. Armed with my Dexcom software graphs and coffee, I took a seat in the lobby and snapped a pic of the freakishly-empty waiting room. (For those who know my endo or go to him for his care, you know the waiting is usually very full!)

Not 20 minutes later, my name was called and the nurse led me to my room. She took my weight and my blood pressure. She was putting the sleeve back in its holster when I asked, "What was it?" "130/90," she said. Another elevated reading, this was something I was definitely going to bring up to my endo. She also took my blood sugar (168 mg/dL) and began spinning my A1c. What kills me about the A1c machines at me endo's office is that you can see the timer! I was tortured watching the 5-minute clock slowly make it's way down to 0:00 waiting for my number. During that time, the nurse downloaded my pump data and made sure all my medications were the same. Finally, the clock goes down to 0:00 and I see the number before she does: 6.8%.

I felt defeated. I couldn't help it. I know most people would be content, even happy, with this number. But for me, this number is way too close to that 7.0% threshold required for pregnancy. I immediately started thinking of changes I needed to make, but I barely had any time before the endo came in the room.

He shook my hand and took a seat beside me, and he starts going over my Dexcom graphs with me. This really surprised me, because my endo has been reluctant to the whole CGM thing so far. So it was nice to see him wanting to use the tool I wanted for so long. He said it looked like I was correcting too many times after a meal, resulting in a lot of lows. He thinks my overall basal rates were too low, so we increased my total amount by making my basal rate one rate for the whole day. I'm not sure I agree with this right now, but I know my basal rates are messed up, so it's best to start over with a single rate for now. He also wanted me to increase my IOB time by 2 hours and make my target BG 120 mg/dL. I compromised by increasing it to 1 hour and keeping my range at 100-120 mg/dL; I don't mind being at 120 mg/dL, but I refuse to treat 100 mg/dL as "low".

Then I addressed the elevated blood pressure reading with him. I told him I had been having a lot of appointments lately with my knee, and each time I was having elevated readings. He agreed that he doesn't like this trend, so he took a look at my history with his office over the past 4 years and notice another upward trend: my weight. I've never had a huge gain all at once, just a few pounds here and there. But a few pounds over a couple of years can sneak up on you. He said the best thing I could do to reduce my blood pressure was to lose 10 pounds, or else we'd have to do "something". I'm assuming he means I'll get put on blood pressure medication, which wouldn't be terrible because they could also protect my kidneys. But I don't like knowing that I didn't do all that I could to be healthy on my own.

So to recap: increased A1c, weight, and blood pressure. I debated calling Trey immediately after the appointment, because I knew it would result in tears. And it did. My poor husband can read me like a book, even over the phone. And when he said, "I know you're about to cry . . ." I lost it. "It's not the end of the world, Babe. You're still doing great. We just need to change some things." We agreed that we had been calling the local pizza place too many times over the last few months when we had no plans for dinner. And even though I've increased my physical activity over the past couple months, I need to bump it up. I've decided to give the spinning class a try (now that my knee is feeling better. Thank you, physical therapy.), and softball is about to start up again. Hopefully these things will help in the weight department.

I really don't know how to end this post other than to say I'm feeling very overwhelmed right now. Ten pounds seems so impossible, seeing as I'm struggling to keep 2 lbs off on a weekly basis. I can log my food with some consistency and keep up a reasonable workout routine, but more than anything I need encouragement. I need hope that this is not an impossible feat. I just need to find something that works for me, but first I need to know that everything will be OK. I need to stop freakin' crying about this and find some joy again.

Sorry, guys. I know this isn't how I wanted to end this post, but sometimes I need to be real. And I hate this, period.

Knee-Jerk Experience

2011-02-24T14:49:00.001-06:00

So today's blog post is installment #4 of the saga that is my knee pain. (You can read the other installments here, here, and here.) This week's episode is about my visit to the orthopedist to see what he thought about my nagging knee.

I kind of started out in a bad mood, because my appointment was at 10:15 AM, which meant that I was going to get up and go to work for 2 hours then drive all the way back to this office. (I normally like to make my appointments either really early or really late because of work, but this appointment was made for me by my PCP after my MRI appointment. /digression) And I found out that there is only one majority group of people who come to appointments like this in the middle of the day: slightly older retired people.

Most of the people I sat next to in the lobby sported a cane and white hair (if any). I overheard some of their conversations about having their knees scoped, recovering from surgery, and (my favorite) "there's no arthritis in titanium". The thought of having my knee scoped is about as pleasant as a root canal without a numbing shot. I felt like I was looking into my very depressing future.

I sat there for over an hour, filling out paperwork, playing with my iPod, and waiting for my name to be called. (However, the office did have free Wi-Fi, during which time I was able to download the Starbucks app. I'm thinking we should petition all doctors' offices to have free Wi-Fi, no?) They finally called my name, and I was escorted to another room. During this time, I had a mild low (67 mg/dL) from the waiting and the fact it was getting close to my lunch hour. I just knew I would meet the new doctor while chomping on some raspberry glucose tabs, but no such luck.

Then the doctor came in (with a medical student shadow, cool) and pulled out my MRI images. He asked me about my pain, and I explained to him that I used to be a catcher and had been having pain off and on for about 8 months, mainly during cold weather, walking up and down stairs, and sitting still with crossed legs for a long time. He said this pain is fairly common, especially in women because we generally have wider hips. (Which is extremely evident on me, if you've ever seen my hips. Which would be weird if we met and you remember what my hips looked like. OK, nevermind, this is just getting awkward.) And having wider hips makes the pressure on the knee disproportioned, and being a catcher probably didn't help either. He showed me on the MRI where the radiologist thought my pain might be coming from, but he wasn't entirely convinced that it was degenerative meniscus.

"It hurts right here." Around the bright white spot.

So he prescribed that I do physical therapy for 4 weeks to try to correct the pressure on my knee, and a follow-up in 6 weeks. This is where things start to get bad. I go to the physical therapists' office next door to try to set up my times, and all they had available were "in the middle of work day" times. I asked if there were any offices close to where I work and how long the sessions would be. She told me they had offices downtown but the sessions are usually an hour or longer. An hour or longer, for 3 times a week?! I hardly have any sick time left due to usual diabetes management, I couldn't tack on physical therapy, too. I told her that I would just have to call them later for some better times.

Between that, my glasses, and worrying about some blood pressures issues I've been having lately, I started to feel vulnerable and break down. I called Trey after my appointment and, through my tears, attempted to tell him my diagnosis. When he asked what was wrong I said, "I'm just tired of falling apart." "OK, well just drive and collect yourself. I'll talk to you later." He knows that only continuing to talk about it was going to make me more upset. So I took the 30 minute drive back to work to clear my mind and figure out what I wanted to do.

I got back to work, and while (finally) eating my lunch I tried to call some of the other physical therapy places listed on my prescription. On the second place I called (the first was out to lunch), the nicest voice answered the phone. When I told her I needed physical therapy but needed to do it either really early or really late, she informed me that they're open until 6 PM everyday and I should be able to get in. Then she transferred me to the physical therapist who briefed me on what to do when I came in. Even though it was only a phone call, it really lifted my spirits because they seemed so willing to work with me and around my schedule. It was quite refreshing after the "you need to work around us" therapy center I came from.

So that's the latest on le knee that's being a jerk right now (hello, post title). I'm really hoping that I can fix this without scoping or surgery, and that I can learn some things I can do if the pain comes back again. However, having titanium knees might be cool (and add to my bionic-womaness)!

Things on My Radar

2011-02-22T12:20:00.001-06:00

Yesterday I had my yearly female appointment with my gynecologist. Even though his office is labeled as OB/GYN, I like to invert the two and add an "O" making him my "GYNOOB" (pronounced "guy"-"noob"), cuz I'm mature like that.

I know most women can't say this, but I love my gynecologist! Of all my doctors, he is definitely the nicest and most encouraging one I have. Yes, you may have to wait over an hour past your appointment time to see him, but it's worth it when he takes your time with you and treats you like you're the only patient in the world. (And especially with this kind of appointment, sensitivity and patience is key.)

He always makes a point to ask me, with genuine sincerity, about my diabetes. I usually tell him, "Fine," but I know I could say, "It's a pain in the arse," if I wanted to. When he asked me what my last A1c was and I said 6.3, he looked up from his chart and smiled, "Good for you! That's awesome!" "Thanks, I just try to keep up with it," I shrugged. This (A1c) point led to an interesting topic between us:

Me: "So, what would be your threshold for, say, pregnancy?"

Dr. (smiling): "Oh that's a great topic! I would want you to stay under 7.0, but that will be controlled by you and your endo. Who are you seeing for that?"

Me: "Dr. [insert name here], the one with the 'special' sense of humor."

Dr. (stomping his foot and laughing): "That is so true, he's definitely unique."

Nice to know even another doctor notices my endo's dry personality. Should make April feel better. ;-)

So after this nice little chat and my *ahem* exam, he looked me in the eye and told me I was just as healthy as any other woman who desires children. "That's what I wanted to hear," I said and he walked out the door. And before I left the room, I paused and held onto his words like they were charms on a bracelet: "just as healthy". Even though we're not trying for a baby right now, I like knowing that we could. Like the power of my diabetes is harnessed and chained, under my control. I couldn't help feeling a little empowered, like some goddess of femininity wielding a pump and CGM.

Trey and I talk about having kids all the time, like they're already here or something. And sometimes I forget that having diabetes makes that dream a little more of a nightmare. I'm not afraid of the lab-rat-type testing I'll undergo, or even the constant warnings of complications due to high blood sugars. The one thing I'm afraid of more than anything: motherhood itself. I know I want kids, and I desire them more than anything. I get all teary-eyed at posts like this one and get chills thinking about someone calling me, "Mommy." But I'm a little anxious about the 180 life-change that will follow. It's the same anxiety I felt before college, getting married, buying a house, or adopting another dog. It's the anxiety of not being prepared for something very important, only to realize there's NO WAY to be fully prepared to begin with.

It's so strange to desire something that you're terrified of, like WANTING to be bitten by a snake (who would want that?!). To be responsible for a life, a soul, that will rely on you to know how to walk through this life. Hoping that they find God's love, and praying you're not going to screw it up! And wondering how can you love someone so much that you haven't even met! (CC: Facing the Giants)

I don't know, we're so far ahead of the literal pregnancy/diabetes stuff that I'm still focused on the big picture. All I can say is that I'm excited and terrified, especially now that I've added a new label to my blog: pregnancy.

Whoa! Things are starting to get too real around here. So to level things out, here's a picture of my dog gassing me with one of her rancid farts.

Aaaaaaaand, we're back! =)

Raiding the Candy Bowls

2011-02-18T08:09:00.000-06:00

In my office, it seems to be standard operating procedure to have a candy bowl on your desk. It certainly makes meetings in the boss' office a lot less stressful when you're sucking on a Werther's Original. In my branch chief's office, he has 3 bowls: one with mints, one with Chex Mix, and one with assorted chocolates including Snickers (my fav), Milky Way, and Twix. His office is strategically placed across the hall from the coffee/break room. So grabbing a snack after lunch or between coffee is very easy.

Sometimes when I'm having a low blood sugar at work, and I don't want to have another toddler-size juice box, I will walk up and down the halls of my office raiding the public candy bowls. It gives me a chance to catch up with my coworkers (read: socialize) while satisfying my hypoglycemia. I've never told my coworkers that I'm having a low blood sugar when I'm raiding their stash, but some of them know I'm diabetic. So occasionally I will get a glance from them as I grab 3 mini-Snickers and a nod, like they understand.

But when the candy bowls start to get low (like on Fridays), I admit I start to get a little nervous. I rely on these candy bowls too much for treating my lows. Even if I have plenty of juice, I still like to know that I have some back up just in case. But then I get a branch-wide email with subject title: "Candy Bowls are Refilled!", and all is well.

"Can you fax this for me and give me 15 grams of fast-acting carbs?"

Also, I love The Office! Happy Friday!

Inside the Jackhammer Donut

2011-02-16T08:56:00.000-06:00

Last Friday, I went to have an MRI done on my right knee that's been giving me pain for quite some time. I arrived at the imaging place, filled out 3 pages of "new patient" forms, and took a seat. Of course, I was able to snap a picture for the Waiting with Diabetes Flickr group. (I've also noticed that I've already been to 4 doctor's appointments this year, which seems like way too many.)

A nurse wearing Auburn (War Eagle!) scrubs called my name and she directed me to the back of the hallway towards this giant room with the MRI. It looked like a monstrous donut with a bed inside the hole. The nurse asked me to remove all of my jewelry, and I asked her, "So did they tell you about my hardware?" She takes a look at my chart and says, "Oh, you wear an insulin pump?" "And a constant glucose monitor, but I'd like to keep that in if I can. It's kind of a pain to take out and insert." I lifted up my shirt and showed her where I had the transmitter and sensor on my stomach with my huge Tegaderm patch over it. She looked at it and said, "I think you can keep it on since we're examining your knee. We can put you halfway in the MRI so it doesn't interfere with that." I disconnected Arnold and shutdown Constance and put them in a toolbox with my purse, jacket, and jewelry.

We go in the MRI room, and the nurse asked me to lay down on the bed and put my right knee in this foam contraption that would keep it still. I felt like I was a mental patient being strapped down, except it was only my right knee--like it was demon possessed or something. "OK, we'll slowly put you in the machine, but let me know if you feel any pulling on your stomach," the nurse said motioning to my sensor. "OK," I said already tensing up, putting my hands over the sensor as if that was going to protect it. She slowly rolled the bed into the donut hole until I was belt-high. "Anything?" she asked. "Nope." "OK, I'm going to get you some headphones so you can listen to some music. This thing sort of sounds like a jackhammer. Try to lay as still as possible, it will last about 15 minutes."

Just a little noisy.

She gives me my headphones and I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on the station. Then all of a sudden, a loud vibrating sound surrounds the room, like a mini-earthquake, and it was loud enough that I couldn't hear my music anymore. It lasted about 5 minutes before it stopped. I get about a minute reprieve before it started again, this time a little higher pitch. I could feel my knee beginning to stiffen up, but I couldn't tell if it was from the MRI itself or the fact that I was clenching so bad. This cycle continued two more times, mini-earthquake, silence, mini-earthquake, silence. Then the music stops on my headphones, and I hear the door open. "OK, that's it," the nurse said walking in. I let out a breath I didn't notice I was holding.

I get off the bed and "gear up," putting on all my jewelry and diabetes gadgets, like a cross between a police woman and Indiana Jones. All I needed was a dark brown hat, I was already wearing a leather jacket. Aaaaaanyway, I pay my copay and the receptionist told me they would forward the results to my doctor next week.

Fast forward to this week, I get a call from the nurse at my PCP's office. "Yeah, it looks like you do have some degenerative meniscus going on. We'd like to schedule you to see an orthopedist. Do you have one you'd like to see?" "Ummm, no, I'm new to all of this." She schedules me to go to an orthopedic center close to my house for next week. After I get off the phone with her, I went to Google to figure out what exactly "degenerative meniscus" is. From what I can decipher, the cartilage between my knee cap and my thigh bone is not as thick as it should be. Thus, causing pressure and pain when I bend my knee. My physics/engineer mind hypothesizes that the cartilage condenses in cold weather or when a low pressure system passes, because the pain hasn't been as bad this week with high pressure and temps in the upper 60s.

So, that's it. My pain has been justified by something, which gives me some relief that it's at least diagnosed. But what frustrates me is that there appears to be no "fix" for this except to manage the pain until I have no cartilage left, which leads to knee surgery. My mom tried to reassure me that they would probably give me some type of anti-inflammatory drug that I would have to take for the rest of my life. Admittedly, I got a little upset and said, "I don't want to be dependent upon a drug for the rest of my life! I'm already dependent on one to stay alive, I really don't want to add another. I'm freakin' 26-years-old!" I don't know why I got so upset, because it seems so silly over something like knee pain. But I hate feeling like the only fix for this is another drug. It's like my body hates me, it doesn't want to function properly if left by itself.

I'm hoping the orthopedist will suggest some form of physical therapy first, to hopefully make my knee correct itself. But between this knee pain and getting glasses, I'm feeling a little vulnerable. If I start forgetting people's names or putting the milk in the dryer or something, I'm just gonna put my hair in a bun and call it a day.

Goodbye, Constance v1.0

2011-02-15T08:42:00.000-06:00

Sunday morning after church, Trey and I headed to Target to get the things we needed for our Valentine's Dinner at home (which was awesome, by the way!). As soon as we got in the car, Constance was blaring from my pocket like she was just being turned on. "Holy random restart!" I said. This was the 3rd time in twelve hours that she had voluntarily restarted herself. She always got back on track when she came back on, but it was still weird, loud, and inconvenient.

Halfway through our Target trip, she let out a loud, long shriek like she was screaming out her last breath. I look down saw this weird error message:

The low prices were to die for! *wah wah wah*

So I called Dexcom and before I could get to the 4th character in the error message they said, "Oh yeah, that's a hardware error. We'll overnight you a new receiver." Apparently, this error message is not all that uncommon. I confirmed this with some conversations with my Twitter D-peeps yesterday.

I've kept my sensor in my abdomen during this time because it was still going strong before Constance died, so I'd like to already have a "wet" sensor when my new receiver comes this afternoon. And it's been a little weird going without a CGM these past two days after being a "real-time" diabetic for the past 7 months. And it's been nice to not have that constant reminder that I'm diabetic or the incessant BEEEEEEEPing.

But it didn't take long to remind me why I wanted a CGM in the first place. I had to mentally take stock of how I felt anytime I had the urge to reach for my phantom CGM. I was reminded of the cartoon flyer I received when I got out of the hospital, explaining the symptoms of hypoglycemia:

I'm pretty sure this is in every "diagnosis packet".

I started to develop what I call "Low-CD", which basically means having OCD anxiety about going low. Anytime I had one of these symptoms, I wanted to check. I was quickly running out of test strips (and patience). One time I was sure I was low, but a test proved me wrong at 128 mg/dL. Now, it could have been that I was falling from a higher BG, thus prompting some mild low symptoms. It's for this reason that I want my CGM back, regardless of the constant BEEEEEEEPing.

Celebrating Us

2011-02-14T10:05:00.000-06:00

Long before we were married, and even before diabetes entered the picture, Trey and I were just two broke college students. For our first Valentine's Day as a couple, we ordered a pizza from our college meal plan and watched a Disney movie in his dorm. We continued that tradition yesterday by ordering a large pizza with bacon and mushroom. Our life is not so simple nowadays with both of us working engineering jobs, remodeling a house, and keeping up with 4 animals running around our house. But I still love the simple ways we say, "I love you."

Said dorm room.

We both lean towards the "geek" side of the personality spectrum, and so for Valentine's Day I'd like to dig up a poem I sent to him on Valentine's Day four years ago.

Love song for Geeks and Engineers. (Author Unknown)

I was alone and all was dark
Beneath me and above
My life was full of volts and amps
...But not the spark of love

But now that you are here with me
My heart is overjoyed
You turn the square of my heart
Into a sinusoid

You load things from my memory
Onto my system's bus
My life was once assembly code
Now it's C++

I love the way you solder things
My circuits you can fix
The voltage across your diode is
much more than just point six

With your amps and resistors
You have built my integrator
I cannot survive without you
You are my function generator

You have charged my life, increased my gain
And made my maths discreet
And now I'll end my poem here
Control, Alt, and Delete.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

Sleeping Alone

2011-02-11T11:36:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, Trey had to work on 2nd shift (2-12 PM, yuck!), which meant that I would be going to sleep alone. I never like going to bed without him, I'm a huge cuddler. (Reader: *cough* Ummm, Holly, that information is a little TMI. What's the point?) But the other reason I don't like going to bed alone is the whole diabetes/plummeting-scary-lows thing.

I lived alone for about a year between my roommate moving out and getting married before Trey and I got married. At that point, I had never heard of "dead in bed" syndrome nor did I have a CGM. I also was not that great about checking my blood sugar before I went to sleep. I was towing a dangerous line and didn't know it! Admittedly, I would snack heavy before bed, both for staving off any lows and simply out of enjoyment. I probably went to bed high a lot of nights, but I hardly had any paralyzing/wake-me-up lows, either.

Now that I have a husband and a CGM, I'm more aggressive about getting my night time basal rates on a streamline around the low 100s. It's led to some sleepless nights correcting lows, but I always catch them in the 60s before it gets too bad. Trey is usually the one who wakes me up from the CGM going off.

But last night, I felt the anxiety kick in about going to bed without my trusty husband/CGM alerter. So I reverted back to my old habits of snacking before bed: cookies and milk. I had overbolused for dinner, so I was plummeting towards the low 70s fast. I set a temporary basal of 50% for 2 hours and tried to go to sleep. Not an hour later, I woke up that I was still low. So I got up and had some juice, with Roscoe not far behind. I finally went to sleep around the time Trey was getting off work.

Because he was too tired and I never hear the alarms, I woke up this morning to a 198 mg/dL. A far cry from the 80s and 90s I have been seeing. I knew this would happen, but at the same time I'm too scared of lows to simply trust my basal rates and IOB to level out. And too many stories of diabetics dying in their sleep ring in my ear. I simply can't go to sleep and feel confident that I'll wake up every time.

Maybe one day I'll get to where I can sleep soundly without relying on my husband or my CGM, even though that's what they're there for. Either way, I hate sleeping alone.

Oh My Knee

2011-02-09T08:25:00.000-06:00

For the past 6 months or so, I have been battling some pain in my right knee. It's like someone has stapled a brick to the top of my knee cap and it's pressing down. I was a fast-pitch softball catcher for 10 years, so I figured the wear and tear on my knees was finally catching up to me. The first appointment I had for it, the doctor had my knee X-rayed and found nothing. Then I went several months without feeling anything again.

But lately the pain has been constant. I am taking my prescription Celebrex (don't worry, Constance-friendly) everyday like it's my vitamin, and it feels like it's barely putting a dent in the pain. I am avoiding stairs as much as I can and crossing my legs when I'm sitting. But the pain is still there.

Last night, when I was working out on the Wii, I was trying to do some lunges. And I could barely get my left knee down because the pain in my right knee was so bad. And when I'm sitting on the couch, I usually prop my legs up on the coffee table in front of me, and last night I had to physically lift my right leg up and down from the floor.

My (current) GP said that if my pain doesn't get better or gets worse that the next step is an MRI to confirm if I have arthritis in my knee. I have done some research about all the different kinds of arthritis (just like diabetes, I had no idea of the several types! #themoreyouknow) and found that rheumatoid arthritis is a form of an autoimmune disease. I have read that autoimmune disease run in companies of 2s or 3s, so I thought this could be the beginnings of that. But further research seems to point to me having regular ole osteoarthritis, which is not as bad but still painful.

The main issue I have with making an appointment is that it seems there is no "fix" for me knee, if it is confirmed as osteoarthritis, other than taking daily pain meds and wearing a brace when I exercise. It frustrates me because I am 26-years-old! I shouldn't be making statements like, "Oh, I can tell the weather's changing, I can feel it in my knee." I try to blame everything on D, but in this case I am. There's no way I should be feeling "old people pain" this early in life.

I really hope I don't have to sport a 4-stand cane with tennis balls.

Daily Bread

2011-02-08T08:32:00.000-06:00

My favorite verse in the entire Bible is Matthew 6:34 (Jesus speaking),

³⁴ Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I first fell in love with this verse when I was in college. I was overwhelmed by a 19-hour class schedule while working a part-time job on campus. I used this verse as inspiration to get things done that I could get done on that day, only. If I started thinking about the future, getting a job, hopefully marrying my boyfriend, etc., I would get stressed out. I had to bring my focus back to today, and only today.

Then, at 22-years-old, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes through a DKA and hospitalization. This disease requires constant, daily (sometime hourly) attention. It doesn't sleep, and sometimes keeps me from sleeping. One good day could be immediately followed by a bad one (Hello, my most recent weekend). That variability frustrates me so much that I sometimes throw Constance across the room and fall on the floor in tears. I don't have the strength to handle this disease every. single. day.

I'm currently trying to read through the Bible in one year, and right now I am in Exodus. I'm at the part after the Israelites have left Egypt and begin wondering through the desert. They become restless at the lack of food, so Moses goes to God on their behalf asking Him to provide. God provides them with something called manna or "bread of Heaven", which is described as a wafer with honey flavor (yum). The only rule that God gave them was that they could only eat the manna they were given for that day. If they tried to store the manna for the next day, it would sour and grow worms (eww).

I thought about this "daily bread" story and how it deals with diabetes. My ultimate goals with this disease are to successfully have as many children as my husband and I decide (not diabetes) and live long enough to see our 50th wedding anniversary. Those are the only two things that I selfishly want, and I admit that. And I know I'm not guaranteed those things, but I still want them. But thinking about trying to maintain an A1c under 6.5 for 9 months while handling intense hormone swings already has me exhausted. And trying to make it over 50 years with diabetes without any complications is going to be a major statistical feat. My goals are not unreachable, but I feel too weak to even try.

But I do have the energy to handle diabetes today, no matter ITS mood. And sometimes I need to have enough energy to handle diabetes this hour, even the next 30 minutes after treating a low. When I have a reading over 300 mg/dL, my immediate reaction is to do a correction no matter my IOB and crank up my basal to 200%. I want to come down ASAP because my mind immediately goes to that dreaded c-word, "complications". It's so hard to take the emotions out of my sliding scale formula.

I am so weak, and this disease trains the life out of me (literally). But I have learned to cherish today, and lean on others to help me through like my husband, my pets, the DOC, and my Lord. My only hope is that this post helps someone out there, because after Kerri's PostSecret post I know there are plenty of people who feel drained by this disease, too.

Spinning Diabetes?

2011-02-03T08:55:00.000-06:00

The beauty of being on an insulin pump is the fact that I can turn down or turn off my insulin when I'm going to exercise. And sometimes that exercise isn't "exercise," like grocery shopping or cleaning the house. But I can still tailor my insulin needs depending upon my activity, not the other way around.

That being said, there is still some research and tweaking to figuring out what basal setting work best for you and your activity. I've wrote about finding a good basal setting for going walking with my dogs, and I've slowly started figuring out my basal settings for a few other things.

Walking--8%, set 30 minutes before, during, and 30 minutes after.
Wii Fit--If only 30 minutes, no need to disconnect. But if going for almost an hour, completely disconnect beforehand.
Cleaning--20%, try to set 30 minutes beforehand if I remember, but still working on that.
Grocery Shopping--25% set 30 minutes before and during.

And now that I've officially joined a gym, I need to figure out what basal settings I need for all those fun machines (elliptical, anyone), and I'm toying with the idea of doing the spinning class. To be honest, this is kind of scaring the crap out of me. Whenever I envision a spinning class, I see sweaty, exhausted bodies leaning over the handle bars like they're on a torture machine with a Nazi-like trainer at the front screaming, "Faster!". So why do I want to try this class? Because it is one of the best calorie-burning workouts! And I'm trying to get rid of some of the fluffiness that my sedentary job has led me to.

So now I'm seeking out if there are any other diabetics out there have have successfully (or not) gone through a spinning class. Even if you were unsuccessful and had to leave early with a debilitating low, tell me how it was and what you would do different. I'd like to be as prepared as I can be. My initial plan is to set my basal to 50% at least 30 minutes before the class (maybe an hour, I don't know), then completely disconnect during the glass. I plan to have Constance front and center on the bike (if that's possible, but she'll be nearby that's for sure) and bring some Gatorade for the first few classes to make sure I have something quick to bring me up if I need it.

Anyone else out there ever done a spinning class (D or non-D)? What should I expect? Am I crazy? (Only in relation to this post, please.)

Peanut Butter Buddy

2011-02-01T08:31:00.000-06:00

I love my dogs! I've always claimed to be more of a cat person, but there's just something about a dog. The way they wag their tails incessantly when I come home, their cuddly antics whenever I sit on the couch, and their mental obsession with chasing the squirrels in the backyard. They're goofy, lovable creatures that provide so much company and noise to our home.

We currently have 2 dogs, Roscoe and Missy. We got Missy last year as a playmate for Roscoe when we moved into our house. But we got Roscoe about 2 years ago when he was an 8-week-old ball of fur.


Let the "Awwwww"s commence . . .

Roscoe was the first dog I've had that I've gone through the proper puppy training with. Sure, I had dogs growing up, but they were either mainly outside dogs that didn't require much training or my parents took it over. And I learned that there is a special bond that happens when you are training your dog. I can't explain it, but there's a trust that develops and the dog would rely on you for everything, even its life.

And mine.

So I've always been diabetic with Roscoe, but I've never thought he caught on to Mommy's disease . . . until recently. Roscoe always has to be in the same room where I am. If I am cooking, he takes a spot on the floor in the doorway to the living room. If I am folding clothes in the bedroom, he lays in his bed watching me until I leave the room. Never in the way, just always around. He's not like this with Trey, just me. I thought this dog had some serious attachment issues, but there's possibly something more.

For my nighttime lows where I am awoken by Constance, I make my way into the kitchen to pour a glass of juice. Of course, Roscoe follows me and sits in the doorway wagging his tail. Once I feel my body start to settle out from the shakes and my mind is clear, I retrieve the peanut butter from the cupboard to get some protein in me. Well, Roscoe knows the smell of peanut butter, it's one of his favorite snacks. He especially likes when I smear some over an apple slice or a baby carrot for him. The dog loves peanut butter. So when I get done eating my 2 spoonfuls of peanut butter, I point the spoon in his direction and let him finish it off.

Lately, when I start to feel low (sometimes before Constance alerts me), Roscoe will come up to me and start wagging his tail. "Why are you excited, Roscoe?" BZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!! "Low > 70 mg/dL" Uh huh. "Is it peanut butter time?" His tail shakes faster and he lets out a little yelp. I fear I am training this dog to get excited about my lows.

I've heard of diabetic alert dogs, I even follow a great blog of one who looks just like Roscoe. And I've heard of other domestic pets alerting their owners of nighttime lows. But I never thought that one of my pets would be one of them. I suppose one CGM is better than two, right? Even if one is a 62 lb lab mutt with a whip for a tail.

I can haz peanut butter?

Twenty-Five Years

2011-01-28T10:38:00.001-06:00

God Bless You, Challenger

The Not-Fun Kind of Roller Coaster

2011-01-27T08:24:00.000-06:00

I love roller coasters! There has never been a roller coaster that I've glanced at and thought, "Nah." Oh no, I will take 3G (gravity, not cell phone network) turns with upside-down flips, all while hanging from my pony tails. I am a lover of adrenaline and danger! (And for the record, my favorite roller coaster is the Superman at Six Flags Atlanta.)

One roller coaster I am not fond of, however, is the glucose roller coaster (also known as the "glucoaster"). And for the past 24 hours, that's where I've been. I'm currently on the last reservoir refill from my latest insulin vial, which means there is a good possibility my insulin is going bad. This has happened to me several times before, and I've thought about chunking the vial once I get down to less than a reservoir's worth of insulin. But the conservative side of me begins screaming, "That's wasteful!" So I refill my reservoir like I always do, and spend the next 3 days coasting out some major BAHs. It's not that the insulin has completely crapped out, it just takes longer for the insulin to really kick in to my bloodstream.

The other side of this glucoaster involves some homemade eggrolls I made last night. In my humble opinion, I make the best eggrolls. I can't stand ordering them from a Chinese restaurant because I'm very picky. So when I feel the need to fulfill that eggroll hole in my heart, I make them myself. Each eggroll only contains 12 grams of carbs, but they pack a mean delayed punch. I forgot about this. So when I bolused and ate 4 eggrolls while watching Date Night for our date night, I went to bed with a perfect reading of 100 mg/dL (score!). But I woke up this morning to 298 mg/dL, with Constance showing that I had been over my high threshold for more than 3 hours. (Why, oh why, do I never wake up?!)

So I dialed in a correction before my shower, and downed a bottle of water while I was getting ready. Keeping an eye on Constance, it seemed I was dropping, FAST. I checked an hour after my correction bolus and saw that I was 120 mg/dL! (So much for the insulin being bad.) So I quickly scarfed down some cereal between putting on my blush and mascara. (Don't worry, I totally didn't try to eat my mascara brush and put the spoon to my eye. Nope, nuh uh.) Things seemed to have settled out now. I'm currently 99 mg/dL with a straight arrow. But I did delay leaving for work for 20 minutes to make sure I didn't crash.

I'm ready to get off.

I'm so exhausted after these last 24 hours, and all I've done is live my life! Most roller coasters are fun, but sometimes I need a break. Now, where's the funnel cake stand?

Calgon, Take Me . . . to Low Blood Sugars?

2011-01-25T08:11:00.000-06:00

Last night, I had the rare opportunity of having an hour of nothing to do (what?!). So I decided to use the occasion to take a bubble bath using my lavender-scented body wash and bath salts. I tuned my iPod to my favorite radio station, and cranked the water to one degree below boiling, just how I like it. And I enjoyed having the hour to myself (oh and Elvis the cat, who decided to hang out on toilet next to the tub. totally. awkward.).

After I was done, I went into the living room to catch up on a little Facebook stalking before bed. But before I could sit down on the couch, Constance was bzzzzzzing from my robe pocket. "Low BG. 70 mg/dL" with a southeast arrow. Then I finally took stock of how I felt: racing heart, maybe sweaty but couldn't tell from just getting out of the tub, kinda fuzzy in the mind. So I made a glass of milk and grabbed some Elf Fudge cookies before taking to Twitter to discuss this phenomenon.

This isn't the first time that a hot bath or shower has induced a low blood sugar. It could be the temperature of the water, which is well above my body temperature. So, I'm basically boiling myself like a lobster, causing my heart to race--possibly causing the hypoglycemia? You'd think being disconnected from Arnold for over an hour would have the opposite effect.

Like this?

When I was first diagnosed, my mom (a nurse for 30+ years) told me that hanging out in the hot tub helps my dad (T2) with his blood sugar. So, guess where I was the first 3 weeks of my diagnosis? Do you think purchasing a hot tub could be written off as medical equipment? (A girl can dream, right?)

So has anyone else experienced this hypoglycemia phenomenon or managed to harness its power for good? Like taking a bubble bath when having a stubborn high? Or hanging out in the hot tub while eating pizza instead of taking a bolus? The possibilities are endless!

But regardless, I like Dayle's response. "still waiting for my endo to prescribe more bubble baths! ;-)" Me, too, Dayle. Me too.

Just Blah

2011-01-24T08:42:00.000-06:00

I wouldn't necessarily call it burnout, I'm not quite there yet. But lately I've just felt like I've been going through the motions with diabetes (and life). I'm testing, counting, bolusing, exercising, but I just don't have any emotion behind any of it. The other night, Constance said that I soared to over 350 mg/dL before my insulin kicked in, and I just blinked at it. And I'm waiting out my lows longer than I should: I'll see that I'm low, wait the 30 minutes for the "snooze" to see if I will come up on my own, then correct if I'm still low.

I don't know what's causing this "blah"-ness. It could be the constant cold weather that's starting to wear on me and causing some winter blues. It could be the fact that I've stuck to my resolution of working out at least every other day and I've oscillated between +/- 2 lbs. It could be that college football is officially over (can I start the countdown yet?). And it could be just because diabetes is a constant disease regardless of my ambition or spirit to keep it under control.

Sometimes the blahs or burnouts can be a good thing. I haven't stressed out over a blood sugar reading over 250 mg/dL because I know the insulin will kick in eventually. But I haven't hooked Constance up to the Dexcom software since before my endo appointment back in October. And honestly, I'm afraid to. Between a sinus infection that left me cruising in the 300s and all the holiday snacking, I think my last A1c of 6.3% is long gone.

I'm just in this weird in-between phase right now because it's too cold to go bike riding or play softball (or to at least enjoy it). So I find myself going from home to work to home, trying to keep warm in the process making soup after soup (I'm running out of soup recipes), and working out with the Wii. Trey cut up a cantaloupe the other day, and I got the sweetest hint of spring with its taste. I'm so ready to see the sun and feel its warmth, rather than seeing my breath in the sky.

I've got the winter (and diabetes) blues. *cue jazz harmonica*

iWorkout @ Home

2011-01-20T08:30:00.000-06:00

I feel like I've talked a lot about food here at A&M, but not a lot about exercise. That's because my exercise regimen was pretty much nothing in 2010. And I still haven't really established a "routine", but I do want to keep a schedule of working out at least every other day.

The only time I've ever had a consistent workout routine (other than softball) was pre-D. My college sophomore roommate and I liked to do these walking videos first thing in the morning. We liked doing the 2-mile workout, which was 30 minutes of walking, kicking, and shuffling while carrying weights. It was the perfect workout to do for two busy college students. But after we moved out of that dorm room, so went the workout regimen (even though I was the holder of the tapes, meh).

I've always liked working out at home for several reasons:

I can wear whatever I want! Including my My Little Pony pajama pants and my ratty softball jersey. No need to buy a whole wardrobe of workout clothing to wear at the gym. I can go straight from waking up to working out.
No gym membership costs. Yes, you have to buy the initial home equipment or videos, but I can stay on one video or game for several months before I get bored with it. So I'm spending roughly $20 every 6 months rather than $30-$50/month at a gym. (See also: Holly is cheap.)
Low blood sugar treaters close at hand. This is strictly a diabetes thing, but I like working out at home because I know exactly where my juice boxes or glucose tabs are located. If I go to a gym, it's like packing for a vacation. I have to make sure I have extra juice or glucose tabs, syringes, meter, etc.

I'm sure for every pro that I come up with for working out at home, there is a con. "You'll be held more accountable to working out if you're paying for it." "A gym trainer can help you figure out why you're not losing weight." "Workout clothes are soooooooo cute!" All I can say is that I feel more comfortable working out at home, trying to do the tree pose by myself, awkwardly, in my own living room. Oh yeah, another pro, no embarrassing moments of frustration by comparing yourself to the perfect physique next to you.

Enter Wii Fit Plus! I had the Wii Fit for 2 years and worked out with it, opening all the advanced games and routines. I was getting bored with it, especially the aerobic routines, so I upgraded to Wii Fit Plus. It has the same workouts as the regular Wii Fit, but with more games and a feature where you can set up your own routines. I love the My Wii Fit feature because you can select what areas you want to workout in (i.e. arms & shoulders, legs, posture, aerobic, etc.) and it automatically goes through selected workouts in those areas! No need to go back and forth between the yoga, strength training, or aerobic "rooms". You keep selecting areas and it tells you about how much time your workout will take. I love things that do the "thinking" for me!

Also, the Wii Fit Plus keeps up with roughly how many calories you burn with each workout. This feature is great for me since I'm using MyFitnessPal to keep up with how many calories I eat/burn per day. (It's also great to see how much I have to workout to "earn" that beer with dinner.) And since I'm a small person, it takes a long time for me to burn the calories I need to keep up a "lose weight" metabolism.

On the diabetes front, the workouts have never been strenuous enough that I've needed to disconnect the pump. And I like that I can pause at any time to check my blood sugar, if need be. That would be a little awkward to do in a gym class, not to mention I'd miss some exercise time doing the test (ding: another pro!).

So there it is, my workout regimen at home. I'm definitely not anti-gym. In fact, I've signed up to use the gym for free at work, but that's strictly for breaking up the routine a little bit. And for when I get tired of trying to do sit-ups while the dogs are licking my face each time I come up (OK, working out at home con). I still feel self-conscious and awkward in a typical gym setting. Everybody is different, and every PWD's diabetes is different. My exercise regimen is what works for me, and some people are lifetime gym rats. Whatever gets us moving for better diabetes management is the ultimate goal anyway!

(Note: Neither Nintendo nor the Wii Fit people asked me to write this blog post. I simply love the Wii Fit and have no problem talking about a good product if I believe in it.)

Guess Who's Behind Door No. 2?

2011-01-18T10:55:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment to get a physical done so I could use the gym at work (yay, free gym!). I went to the same office where the bad doctor works, but I requested to see another doctor. Well, in the frenzy of traveling for my grandfather's funeral, I had to reschedule the appointment. But when I rescheduled, I didn't make a point to say I wanted to see another doctor. I thought they would give me the same "new" doctor from my first scheduled appointment.

I signed in, and managed to snap a pic for the Waiting with Diabetes Flickr group before my name was called.

The nurse in bright pink scrubs (seems to be the dress code for this place) took my weight and lead me to my room. She asked me about my current medications, and when I said, "Novolog," she asked me how much. "Oh, I think like 40 units/day, whatever my pump gives me." "Oh, you're on an insulin pump?" she asked. She made a few more notes and told me the doctor would be in shortly.

I waited a few minutes before I hear a knock on the door. "Hello." And there she was, the same doctor who gave me grief for having an A1c of 6.5! At first I couldn't believe it, I just felt my eyes get wider and wider. I kept thinking about how I was going to complain to the office when my appointment was over. I had specifically requested a different doctor, and I ended up with the same one!

But.

I still needed to get my physical done, and I figured she could at least do that without berating me about my diabetes. She went through the little checklist: checked my BP (which was 128/84--I totally blame white coat syndrome along with it being THAT doctor again), ears, stomach, nerves, etc. She saw the nurse's chart about me being on an insulin pump and became very gentle and sincere. "You know you need to carry something when you work out. Do you wear a medical ID?" I pulled up my sleeve and showed her my medical bracelet that I've been wearing since I got out of the hospital. "Good. Just be careful."

Wow, so we go from passive-aggressive, berating doctor to overly nice, mothering doctor?! All because it dawned on her that I wear an insulin pump?! I don't know if it's because she already put a bad taste in my mouth from the last visit, but I still didn't like the way she asked me if I carried something with me, like I was diagnosed yesterday. I guess it just comes with the territory of not having a GP that knows me yet, but I didn't like feeling "mothered" by my GP about carrying sugar with me at all times. Either way, I want to feel comfortable with my GP, and I just don't feel comfortable with her.

I don't plan on seeing that office again anytime soon, but when I do, I will make sure to say, "I, Holly, 26-years-old, type 1 diabetic-diagnosed for 4 years, DO NOT want to see Dr. XXXXX XXXXXXX. Even if she is the only doctor there!" I'm all for second chances with anybody, but sometimes you also just need to go with your gut feeling. And my gut is not happy with this doctor.

Thanks (and an Update)

2011-01-17T10:43:00.000-06:00

This past week has felt like it has gone by in a blink. But first, I want to give everyone a HUGE thank you for all the comments on my Dear Papa post, text messages, and emails for the passing of my grandfather. I felt so much comfort from my online family, you guys certainly deliver. I also wanted to give you guys a quick update on what's been going on this past week.

Trey and I traveled to south Alabama for my Papa's funeral. We met with my family and extended family shortly before the funeral, and it was amazing to catch up with some relatives that I hadn't seen in 10 years. Then it was time for the funeral, and I still don't know how that many people fit in that tiny church. My Papa had been going to the same little Baptist church for over 40 years, and the pastor was also his neighbor. He talked about how my papa never said a harsh word to anybody and praised him for his gentle spirit.

I didn't cry until they presented my aunt with Papa's US flag for his service in the Navy. The tears flowed all the way until the grave site. The pastor gave me a hug and said, "Don't you worry about him, he's in a better place wearing smile. He's not saying much, but he's wearing a smile," again referring to my Papa's quiet nature. We said our goodbyes to him and the rest of our family, and the funeral was over.

The rest of the week we spent going through Papa's house, visiting with family, and just relaxing. Mom's home cooking contributed to me gaining 2 lbs during our trip (but I'm not complaining). I also experienced my usual traveling/stress high BGs. So as much as I enjoyed visiting with family and getting some time off, I'm looking forward to getting back to my normal routine--including more precise carb counting (i.e. not SWAG bolusing) and exercising.

I've got a doctor's appointment this afternoon (but not with the bad doctor) to get a physical done and have my knee looked at again. I'm also looking forward to getting started with the Wii Fit Plus, so look for my opinion on that later. I'm looking forward to getting back to regular diabetes blogging (and catching up on all the blogs I've missed, whoa!).

But again, THANK YOU!!!

Dear Papa

2011-01-11T10:06:00.000-06:00

Dear Papa,

Before I knew you, you were a hero. A WWII Navy Veteran who served at Pearl Harbor. You saw things that you never talked about with us. I loved hearing your stories about steering the admiral's ship. And you always looked so handsome in your pictures wearing your uniform.

What I always remembered about you was your gentle spirit and your quiet nature. I never heard you say a harsh word to anybody. You never stressed about anything, and you always had a smile. I believe this was one of the reasons you thrived so well in life.

But you weren't without your ailments, though. For as long as I can remember, you suffered from restless leg syndrome, often causing your veins to bulge. And in the last few years of your life, you were confined to a wheelchair. But you never complained.

My favorite memory of you is when you came to watch me play softball in a nearby tournament. I had no idea that you were coming, and when I took my position behind the plate like I always do, I never expected to see you behind the fence. I have no idea if we won or lost that game, I was just so proud to have you there.

This past Saturday, while Mom and Dad were visiting, Dad received a call that your breathing has slowed to critical levels and that you might not make it through the night. And at 1:45 AM Sunday morning, you passed in your sleep. Just as gently as you entered the world, you left it.

It's hard to believe that you're gone, because I'm so used to you being around. I was blessed to be able to see you over Thanksgiving, and you smiled when you recognized it was me. You remembered that I moved into a bigger house, and we watched the birds chirp outside. Mom told me you were having a good day, but I never saw you have a bad day. You will be missed, but never forgotten.

I love you, and I'll see you soon.

Love your favorite granddaughter,

Holly

My Papa and I, last Memorial Day. He was 94-years-old when he passed.

Breakfast Starts in the Evening

2011-01-06T08:18:00.000-06:00

I have a love/hate relationship with breakfast cereal. I love it enough to eat it everyday. It's been my favorite choice for breakfast for as long as I can remember. It's fast and easy to make, especially during the work week. I had 22 years to get used to eating it and making it my breakfast habit. And I'm such a stubborn creature of habit that I refuse to make anything else for breakfast during the week.

Enter diabetes:

Most breakfast cereals cause a major spike in blood sugar, even those with the least amount of sugar. So I try to pick a cereal that is high in fiber and protein to hopefully combat the spikes. My favorite cereal choice is Kashi Go Lean Original, and I usually eat 3/4 cup with 3/4 cup skim milk. However, I still see the spikes, like shoot up into the 250s for 2 hours spikes. I don't see these spikes all the time, but I have everyday this week. I never really could explain why I saw them sometimes and sometimes not.

Until this morning.

This morning didn't really start out any different, I woke up and tested: 138 mg/dL. I dialed in a correction and bolused for my cereal: 33 g. Then I hopped in the shower (oh yeah, don't forget the 0.5 u bolus to combat the dawn phenomenon). I get out of the shower, feed the dogs, water the cats, and then filled my bowl with the carefully measured 3/4 cup of cereal and milk (roughly 30 minutes have passed by now since the bolus). I usually see the spike begin about the time I start to dry my hair. But I kept waiting, and kept waiting, and kept waiting, but nothing. I looked down at Constance to see that she has barely crested 100 mg/dL (I actually went low down to 70 mg/dL before the cereal kicked in). But I didn't even peak past 150 mg/dL.

Constance graph showing about the time I woke up (5 AM), the low before my cereal kicked in, then the "spike" under 150 mg/dL.

So what happened to cause this non-spike spike?

Last night I exercised for 35 minutes on the Wii Fit and followed it with a protein-filled dinner of taco salad. I have heard that the blood sugar effects from exercise last as long as a day, but I had never really seen it in action. I have stuck to my resolutions (so far) of trying to exercise at least 3 days/week or every other day. And the exercise that I did wasn't that strenuous, either. I hardly broke a sweat and didn't even disconnect Arnold, and no low followed.

I have always been a proponent that diabetics can and should be able to eat anything that they want. It just takes lots of testing and tweaking to figure out how to keep your numbers stable. I have conquered the beer/pizza super bolus, and now I can check off "breakfast cereals" on my list, too. So now I know that when I start to see the spikes from my cereal in the mornings, I need to get my butt up and exercise in order to avoid them.

Diabetes win!

Nothing to Fear

2011-01-04T08:21:00.000-06:00

I had my very first eye appointment as a diabetic yesterday. (Reader: "Wait? Haven't you been diabetic for 4 years?!") Yes, reader, I have. I know that going to a yearly eye doctor is something I'm supposed to do, but I had such a bad experience with my one (and only) eye appointment about 6 years ago. Long story short, the doctor I saw was extremely forceful and unfriendly.

So I've been putting this appointment off for as long as I could, until I started noticing that it was becoming more difficult to read words on the TV from the couch and reading presentation slides from the back of the conference room. Trey kept noticing me squinting and said, "You're going to the eye doctor." I reluctantly agreed, because I knew this was something I need to do.

I arrived at the office yesterday afternoon, signed in, filled out the standard new patient form, and sighed as I circled "Diabetes" under current illnesses. While I was waiting to be called, I was able to snap a picture for my D365 project and the Waiting with Diabetes group:

I sat next to the tile foyer, ready to make my escape.

I got called back and made my way into a dark room with several chairs with chin rests. The tech told me to look into the little black box where I saw a picture of a green field with a red box in the middle. She did some adjusting to the lenses, then all of a sudden . . . PSSHT! . . . I get sprayed with this stuff into my left eye! WTH?! I had no idea what that was, the tech told me it was some type of spray, but I couldn't understand her. Perhaps I should have told her at the beginning that this was my first appointment in 6 years, maybe she would have told me what to expect.

Then I was escorted into a smaller room with one chair. The tech gave me a huge black spoon to put over my eye and told me to try to read the letters in the mirror in front of me. I really struggled with the first few lines she gave me, which kind of got me down. I thought I would get the easier letters first and then go down, but apparently we were going backwards. So the later lines she gave me I could read a lot better. She sat down at the computer and asked me what medications I was taking. "Novolog and Prilosec." This was the first time diabetes was even mentioned in this appointment. She asked me if I was type 1 or type 2, then told me how important it is to come in for a yearly appointment. I kept feeling like I was saying over and over in my head, "I know, I'm sorry, I know."

She told me the doctor would be in shortly and left me in the room by myself. Two seconds later the doctor came in, and she was unlike any doctor I've ever had. About my height (5'2"), a little portly, wearing a leopard print skirt and textured tights. I smiled and thought she must be really cool. She introduced herself and looked at my chart. "How long have you had diabetes?" "Just passed four years," I said. "Well even with controlled diabetes, it's still very important to get your eyes checked once a year because we want to check to the back of your eyes and look at your nerve function, not necessarily your vision." Repeating in my head, "I know, I'm sorry, I know."

Then she dilates my eyes, and I go pick out some glasses to cater to my near-sightedness brought about by my eye exam. I pick out some frames, and sit back down in the lobby waiting for my eyesight to get fuzzy. She calls me back in and she shines a light in my eye as I my a circle looking around the room. "OK," she says as she rolls back from my chair. I was thinking, "OK what?! What?! Tell me!!" She finally says, "Your eyes look perfectly healthy." "Oh," I said,"that's a relief." "Yep, I see nothing wrong." She leads me out and I head out on my merry way.

It was in that moment that I realized that we don't get a huge prize in avoiding complications, other than the avoidance itself. I felt elated that I dodge a huge bullet in avoiding this appointment for four years, but all I could do was sit in the chair in the dark room and breathe a huge sigh of relief. I called my mom and told her, and told Trey when I got home and they were both happy for me. I just hate that I feel like I'm getting congratulated for something that's supposed to be mine at some point in my life. I don't want it, and I'll keep passing that plate each time it comes by me. Until then, I'll be rocking some sexy kitten-heel frames.

Injured List

2011-01-03T08:19:00.000-06:00

Without even thinking about it, I touched the tip of my right index finger to the very hot stove, trying to clean off some spillage. I was on the phone with my dad and immediately said, "Ow!" "What's wrong?!" he asked. "Oh nothing, just burned myself on the stove. This was about 2 weeks ago. My clumsiness strikes again.

A couple days later, the blister that had formed and swelled finally busted and allowed me to peel back the dead skin. (I'm sorry, I know this is very TMI on a Monday morning.) But the finger is still not well enough to use for testing. I've written before about how between the regular 6-8 tests/day along with calibrating/quieting Constance, I am testing a lot more. So I've had to expand my finger testing arsenal to all 10 fingers, including the very sensitive index and thumb fingers.

You'd think that having only 9 fingers available instead of 10 wouldn't be that big of a deal. But just like on a sports team when one player is out, the rest of the team has to pick up their slack. And I can tell that the other 9 fingers are ready for the other finger to come back on the field. The poor middle and ring fingers take the brunt of the testings (especially the middle of the night tests when I don't have the mental alertness to check all fingers for the least calloused). And with getting through the holidays with all the carb-loaded goodies, testing has been at an all time high. So it was like going into the championship game with a tired team.

I'd say the injured finger still has a couple of days before it returns to the rotation. And even then, it will have a few days of physical therapy, if you will, so it won't come back full force. We diabetics always hear about how we're supposed to take care of our extremities, especially our feet. But I think special care needs to be given towards our hands, as well. Because when you're testing as much as 8-10 times/day, having one finger out of commission makes for a very weak testing team.

Plans for 2011

2011-01-01T10:28:00.000-06:00

Welcome to 2011! I hope you all had a great New Year's celebration and bolused appropriately for that sparkling grape juice. I have a couple of plans (resolutions, if you will) for 2011 that I wanted to share with you guys to start out 2011 for A&M.

I am planning on reading the whole Bible this year. I have settled on the Christ's Church of the Valley reading plan. I chose this plan because it has an Old Testament and New Testament reading for each day, and it follows a plan of reading just during the weekdays. This reading plan will hopefully allow me to catch up on days that I miss and establish a reading schedule during the week. Let me know if you're doing this plan or any other "Bible in One Year" plans; I could sure use accountability/support.
Establishing something of a food diary and workout routine. We all know how important these things are to good diabetes management, but I admit that I really slacked off on both of these in 2010 between working on the house (which I tried to count as working out) and getting used to 40-hour/week job schedule. I was never able to establish a schedule to work out nor did I have the energy. But thanks to my handy dandy iPod, I am using the MyFitnessPal application to track my food and workout routine. I've been using it sparingly since the summer, but more so in the last month to get in the habit. After I write this post, I plan to go start up the Wii and get yelled at by my virtual trainer (yay?).
I am so excited to participate in the D365 project this year. Since I started my blog in April, I didn't get too into the project. But I set a reminder on my iPod for everyday at 6 PM to take a picture for the D365 project. I'll keep the set on my Flickr account for viewing, as well as keeping the D365 tab on the top left column of my blog. I've already taken the first picture for this year!

You can see the excitement in my eyes.

Hope you all have a great, healthy start to 2011!

Meme for 2010

2010-12-28T08:31:00.000-06:00

So 2010 is coming to an end. I have thought about all the things that have happened this year, and there's been enough to make even a normal person go "Whew!" I'm also thinking about what I have planned for 2011, diabetes-wise and not. I'm also extremely scattered brained from coming down from the holidays and all the food, so my 2010-ending post will be a year-recapping meme.

1. What did you do in 2010 that you'd never done before?
Ummm, help remodel a house! I mainly helped in the clean-up process, but I also learned how to tape, mainly trim, and apply painter's tape.

2. Did you keep your New Year's Resolutions from last year and will you make any for 2011?
I don't think I made any concrete ones for this year, but I am planning some for 2011 like reading the Bible in one year and creating my own D365 photo set.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
I had a lot of friends give birth this year, but no one in my family.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Not that I knew personally, but I always get sad when another T1 dies regardless if I knew them or not.

5. What countries did you visit?
LOL, no countries, but I did go to Colorado and Florida for vacations

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
I honestly can't think of anything that I truly need that I didn't have in 2010, guess I'm blessed.

7. What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory...and why?
January 25, 2010, the day we closed on the house.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Traveling down to KSC for my job and seeing the Shuttle in person. It was so surreal and I reflected on how much I had come in my education/career.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Never fail, just keep trying. ;-)

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I'm still getting over a cold, but other than that just the usual cuts and bruises from my own clumsiness.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Probably my Dexcom CGM. OK, insurance bought most of it, but I'm making the quarterly copayments for the sensors.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I definitely have to Kerri because of her post from yesterday. Her real perspective of being an adult with type 1 diabetes is so refreshing because it's not all good all the time. But it's something we can all relate to, and I appreciate anyone who keeps a raw perspective about this beautiful mess called life.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
There's always the groups of people who continue to display their ignorance about diabetes, but it's become so commonplace that I don't feel appalled anymore.

14. Where did most of your money go?
House stuff, house stuff, and more house stuff.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
My CGM, I freakin' cried when I heard that my insurance would cover 90% of it.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
I don't know about all of 2010, but I'm really digging "Avalanche" by Manafest.

17. Compared to last year, are you...
...happier/sadder? much happier
...thinner/fatter? truthfully, fatter, but by like 5 or 6 lbs, meh.
...richer/poorer? both, poorer because of house, but richer from the investment.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Ride my bike. I really missed it.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Stressing, I feel like I didn't sit down enough and relax this year.

20. How will you be spending New Year's Eve?
Shooting fireworks and hanging out with our marriage mentors and their family.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?
I always fall in love with my husband again and again and again. ;-)

22. How many one-night stands?
Ummm, this meme knows I'm married, right?

23. What was your favorite TV program?
I must confess, Teen Mom, I was totally addicted to that trashy show.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I didn't hate anyone last year, and I don't hate anyone now.

25. What was the best book you read in 2010?
The two books I read were Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and The Devil in the White City. Between those two, I liked Midnight more, but I've heard that Leo DiCaprio is making a movie of Devil, and that excites me!

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
My favorite band of this year was definitely Skillet.

27. What did you want AND get?
Constance. =)

28. What did you want and NOT get?
If there was anything, I can't remember, so it must not have been that important.

29. What was your favorite film of the year?
I can't remember all the ones I saw, but the first one I thought of was Eclipse.

30. What did you do on your birthday and how old were you?
On my actual birthday, I went straight home from work to avoid the rain, and hung out watching movies on Netflix, I am 26-years-old.

31. What ONE thing would have made your year immensely more satisfying?
Getting to meet more people from the DOC in person.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
Slowly transitioning from poor grad student to young professional.

33. What kept you sane?
My husband, but he always keeps me sane.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I kind of developed a crush on Eddie Izzard, which is weird since he's an executive transvestite.

35. What political issues stirred you the most?
The main one that stirred me was a local law saying all dogs deemed "dangerous" needed to be leashed or fenced. I don't like knowing the government is defining "dangerous" and how they're going to implement it.

36. Whom did you miss?
A certain gal pal in Denver. ;-)

37. Who was the best new person you met?
Everyone in the DOC. Seriously, y'all are the best.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson that you learned in 2010.
It really doesn't help to stress, it's better to either tackle the problem and if you can't, let it be.

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
From "More Like Falling in Love" by Jason Gray, "Cause all religion ever made of me was just a sinner with a stone tied to my fee." I've been really reflecting on this song because I've been wanting my faith to be more real in my life, not just Sundays.

So if you're feeling burnt out from the holidays and all the food, take this meme to finish out 2010!