Unpacking.

"I will help you, Mom. Let's unpack the rattles glucose tabs first."

The Friends For Life conference was great, but I really really really missed my kid.

MasterLab / #CWDFFL14.

Next week is going to be one big blur of diabetes advocacy and emotions (and being without my kid for a whole week) (cue more emotions) so please leave a message kthanks BEEP.

By way of a scholarship* (immense gratitude as I wouldn't be able to attend either of these events without a scholarship's help), I'll be at the Diabetes Advocates MasterLab event and then the Children With Diabetes Friends For Life conference in Orlando, FL. And then because I really love a three-pronged challenge we will also be exhibiting the You Can Do This Project during FFL's exhibit hall hours.

MasterLab is on Wednesday. The exhibit hall also opens on Wednesday. Stress; I haz it.

Luckily I have some great friends and advisory team members who are more than willing to make this all work out. (Are we sure that beaker in the MasterLab logo isn't actually some sort of cocktail, because a few of us may be looking for one after trying to balance all of this.)

I'm really looking forward to the MasterLab as a way to figure how to move some things forward, and also because I'll get to meet so many of my favorite fellow advocates in-person, finally. There's a special magic that happens when we get a bunch of us into the same physical space.

In relation to exhibiting You Can Do This Project, I want to say a BIG THANK YOU (imagine me waving my arms around in an exaggerated fashion while saying that) to two organizations that helped me pay for the stuff we'll be giving away at the booth:

Like so

Thank you to Asante Solutions, makers of the Snap insulin pump, for paying for 1,500 You Can Do This Project bracelets to be given out to FFL attendees. You may recall that I did a four-week trial of their insulin pump last December. They'll be at this conference and offering free trials with their insulin pump there, too.

Thanks also go to Akibah Health for covering the costs of printing flyers and magnets (we're going to have magnets!!!) to hand out. They are developing a smartphone case all-in-one glucose meter, and will also be at FFL.

These are incredibly generous gestures, considering YCDTP is not a registered non-profit (we're a grassroots thing that dreams of being an official non-profit some day) and the only way you'd know they covered the bill for these is that I'm telling you right now. No co-branded anything. No signs of recognition at the booth. Just this blog mention/disclosure and my eternal gratitude to them for stepping up in a "we'll help where you need it and then just kind of back away and let you guys do your thing" kind of way.

Hell yeah.

It's also worth mentioning that CWD very generously "upgraded" us to a booth space (instead of the table location we started out with), so we'll be sprawling out in our 10x10 area, maxin' and relaxin' and actin' all cool. Thank you thank you thank you, Jeff and Laura.

It will be a crazy week that I'm crazy thankful to be having. Let the packing procrastination commence!

*The scholarship from DA covers the cost of my flights to and from the conference, the shuttle between the airport and hotel, conference registration, and the hotel room that Sar-Bear and I will be sharing (scholarship recipients were required to room together, as part of the whole deal - I'm used to that, anyway!). FFL just wouldn't be the same if Sara and I weren't sharing a room!

Wordless... Um... Tuesday: Still Hanging On.

You Can Do This: Joe Solo.

Last year was the first time I became aware of a guy named Joe Solo. (Actually his full last name is Solowiejczyk - much like my own name, it's often mispronounced.) My introduction came during the Friends For Life conference last year, and as it was my first time there, the whole thing was new to me. I didn't know that CWD gave out awards each year. I also didn't know why the room of 3,000 or so people suddenly rose to their feet during the banquet dinner one night, generating loud applause peppered with "Wooo!"s and whistles.

"Who is this? I don't even... but everyone else is clapping. Okay." And up I stood, clapping along with them, for this stranger on stage. It was later mentioned that he had marked 50 years with type 1 diabetes earlier that year, so okay, that's pretty cool, but still - I was perplexed. Why were my friends so in love with this guy?

Then I attended what I believe was called "Diabetes Burnout" - a session Joe led. Literally within the first minute of his opening remarks, it hit me. Oh. This guy. This guy speaks my language - including the bad words! I love this guy! And I got it. It happened again this year; I chose a session that ended up not being what I expected it to be, and taking the suggestion that was presented to us on day one of "if you're in a session and you don't dig it, it's okay to get up and leave and find one that suits you", a few friends and I headed to Joe's session. Within the first ten seconds of entering the room, I felt as though I had found "home".

It's not enough to tell you that he "gets it". I'm not sure it's enough to tell you that he might be one of my favorite PWDs to listen to; that the wisdom he drops will blow your mind, if you haven't heard it before; that he is what I think the epitome of the spirit behind You Can Do This is. He's not perfect, and he realizes that. He celebrates that. And you know what? If Joe can survive type 1 diabetes for 50+ years with the attitude and personality he continues to have - there's a lot of hope for the rest of us.

Friends For Life: The Outtakes.

I think this is my last FFL post. Really. I'll shut up about it now.

Along with the bonding, learning, and misty eyes, we also had a lot of laughter. A lot of silly. A lot of video that we couldn't really use.

Unless you make a blooper reel, that is.

Friends For Life: Jerry The Bear.

Several times during my stay at the Marriott World Center for Friends For Life I walked down a hallway that was lined with hi-top tables and chairs. For three days in a row, one particular table was commandeered by a swarm of laptops, cables, teddy bears, and a few 20-somethings working quite feverishly on... something. Their fingers fervently tapped at keyboards; their gaze barely lifted from their arsenal of... well, I wasn't quite sure what it was, but it seemed intense.

When the exhibit hall finally opened on Friday, my question was answered: it was Jerry the Bear (whom I keep wanting to call "Jerry the Beary"). And when I saw that the booth attendant was shamelessly sporting a bear costume? Sold.

As it turns out, that wasn't just a booth attendant: it was none other than Hannah Chung, co-founder of Design for America and Sproutel, the company that makes Jerry the Bear (which she invented alongside Aaron Horowitz - who has mad dance skills, apparently). She was kind enough to talk to me a bit more over email and Skype post-conference about this little furry guy they're working on.

"The inspiration for Jerry the Bear came from two places: a personal attachment to diabetes (type 2 diabetes can be found in many branches of Hannah's family tree; most closely with her father who was diagnosed at the age of 40), and a passion for designing interactive products for people living with chronic illnesses". (It's also worth noting that Jerry the Bear was originally conceived as part of the 2009 Diabetes Mine Design Challenge!)

So what is Jerry the Bear? He's an interactive teddy bear that allows kids to become the caretaker for someone (or some bear?) with type 1 diabetes - kids can "feed" Jerry with fabric discs that symbolize specific foods (and hear him say "nom nom nom" as he eats them - SO CUTE), check his paw for a blood sugar reading, and "inject" him with insulin, via a special pen, on one of his designated sites. Not only that, but Jerry is programmed to physically respond to these actions in a manner similar to how the human body would - give him food, his "blood sugar" goes up. Give him insulin; it goes down.

He's intended for young children as a teaching tool to help them adjust to their new lifestyle with type 1 diabetes - not just the physical things like shots and carb counts, and the self-awareness and diligence it takes. The stuffed animal format seems a good choice to me - teddy bears are an approachable and familiar concept for children.

Well, actually, even for adults.

And then the bear was all, "Heeeeeeeey"

It's this knowledge that led Hannah and Aaron to develop Jerry as a teddy bear, specifically. Kids carry around teddy bears anyway, and there was a need for something both educational AND interactive to help children adjust to life with type 1 - why not combine the two? The testing they've done so far (some of which took place at FFL) has produced very positive feedback: "We know that learning happens very rapidly in small children, and we're finding out that young kids have a longer engagement period (minutes vs. seconds) when there is an adult involved in playing with the bear, too. Parental involvement plays a huge role in having a great experience with Jerry."

So, those intense three days of table-hoarding... as it turns out, the Sproutel team received so much feedback at FFL that they could see immediate improvements to make to their product, which prompted a "hack-a-thon". During those three days of programming, they ended up increasing Jerry's code capacity by a third. (Whoa.)

They're still in the testing phase, but it sounds as though Jerry the Bear is scheduled to launch sometime in the middle of 2013. (Which seems like FOREVER to wait, right?) If you'd like pre-order a Jerry the Bear, head over to their website: www.jerrythebear.com. Want more info? Give them a jingle at info@jerrythebear.com. You can also check out the Jerry the Bear Facebook page and Twitter feed.

So how do I feel about this new way to help kids feel "okay" about this whole diabetes thing? You could say I'm bear-y excited.

::rimshot::

Wish You Were There.

For those who wanted to attend, but couldn't.

For those who did attend, and want to relive a bit of it.

For those who have no idea what all of these acronyms (CWD, FFL, YCDT, OMG) are about.

Thank you.



P.S. I set up a seperate Twitter account this morning, too - go follow @YCDTProject!

Talking With Tony.

Tony Rose was kind enough to invite me on his podcast this week, and in case you'd like to hear me babble on about about things like diabetes camps, celebrating diaversaries, feeling angry about diabetes, Friends For Life and the You Can Do This Project (because I obviously haven't talked about those last two things enough), I have a link for you: http://bloggingdiabetes.com/2012/07/bdp-049-interview-with-kim-vlasnik-cgm-data-and-diabetes-news/

I also mention fanny packs. You've been warned.

Friends For Life: Trialing The Tandem t:slim.

It's been said by someone much more clever than I that Friends For Life is like Comic-Con for diabetes. (I've never been to Comic-Con, but from what I can gather, it seems to be a fair comparison.) For at least five days out of your year, you can feel "normal": everyone checks their blood sugar; you can both fist bump and pump bump your friends; the whole diabetes experience (and all that goes with it) becomes typical, instead of unique. 

Part of what is also rad about Diabetes-Con Friends For Life is the exhibit hall area, and how many vendors are there with answers, free samples, and an ability to try things out before you have to make a commitment. This year, Tandem Diabetes had a large presence in the hall (and an atmosphere that felt decidedly less "medical device" and more upscale retail space) and offered attendees the ability to trial their new touchscreen t:slim pump for a 24-hour period during the conference, provided you called in ahead of time to reserve a spot.

I figured this was as good a time as any to give this gizmo a go. After an hour-long orientation/Q&A/me not being able to keep up with the rapid pace on Tuesday afternoon, I had a t:slim to play around with.

These + Dexcom receiver = SO MUCH HARDWARE.

A better side-by-side comparison.

I definitely didn't learn everything there is to know about owning, using, or otherwise experiencing a t:slim in that 24 hours: the pump was never actually connected to me, nor did I get to do a set/cartridge change or charge the battery. That said, I did get to scroll through whatever menus I wanted, set basal and insulin to carb ratios, administer "boluses" (I think the thing was just filled with water), stop and start insulin delivery, and test-run all sorts of other features.

Long story short? I like it. I like it a whole bunch. Once you get a hang of where everything is, you realize just how intuitively and intelligently it's laid out. I like that it can hold 300u versus the 200u my Ping can manage. I like that it has a safety mechanism that, should something go terribly, horribly wrong, prevents the pump from accidentally administering a large dose of unwanted insulin. (The most it could give "by accident" is .3u.) The top of the pump doesn't have that screw-on cap, and instead has tubing coming directly out of the pump - which then has a connector further down the line. (You know how sometimes if you're wearing a pump on your waistband and then sit down, that cap kind of digs into your side/stomach? This eliminates that.) Thoughtful!

The one issue I did have was with the touch screen - maybe it was just my fingers, or the Florida heat, or who knows what... but there were a few times where I had to touch the screen three to five times before it would register the contact. I mean, it eventually recognized my action, but it wasn't as responsive as I would have liked. And if that only happens every once in a while? Maybe that's a manageable amount of "ugh".

I'm not due for a new pump until the end of next year, and who knows what will come through the FDA by then to change my mind... but for now, the t:slim has me impressed.

Disclosure: There's actually no need for a disclosure. At no point in talking with the Tandem folks did I mention that I write a blog, or any of that... as far as they were concerned (I think?), I was just another adult PWD. And until I tag them on Twitter when I publish this post, they also don't know I'm writing a review. Bazinga!

Friends For Life: The Booth.

Bring the You Can Do This Project to Friends For Life is an experience that I will always, always remember. It's a collection of memories that will be locked up in my heart until the day it stops beating. (Overly dramatic? Maybe. But it's true.)

I'll never forget seeing the booth for the first time and thinking, "AAAAAH! That's... this is a thing! It is really happening!"

I'll be forever grateful for the handful of people who gave up their time and money (because really, they had to miss some of the sessions they paid for) to help me out with this. Brian, Chris, Dayle, Sara, Jess, and Courtney - these people are amazing, and were a huge part of why the booth was truly a success. They helped lug a bunch of heavy stuff around (okay, we might have used a bellboy for most of it... advantage of the hotel setting); they saw what needed to be done (or what I might want done) and jumped on it; they knew how to connect with people as individuals. They were kind, passionate, and focused. They brought me Dunkin' Donuts for breakfast on Friday. They ROCKED IT.

I'll never forget the hundreds of positive responses that went something like, "This is so needed. I'm glad you all are here", or "Can I take some of these flyers home with me?", or "Wait, this isn't a company? It's just you?", or "This is so awesome!".

A parent also asked me if I'd heard of something called It Gets Better. I smiled, said that I had, and took it as a very high compliment that she made that connection.

I'll never forget the man who pulled me aside to tell me that I had changed his life, because he had realized after reading and watching that he wasn't alone.

I'll never forget the woman whom Chris directed to me, and her story: she had found the project three weeks prior. Her family is the "go-to" when there is a newly diagnosed T1 child in the area - her family is the first resource they find. She had been sharing You Can Do This with her network, and she told me that it was already changing lives. She told me that what I - and we - are doing is making a huge impact for those families. She thanked me, and I was speechless.

(Care to place a wager on whether or not that made me tear up?)

I'll also never forget the teenage girl who walked past our booth, then slowed to a stop at the stickers. She shrieked, "Oh my god! These are awesome! Can I take a handful of these?", to which I responded, "Of course!". She then turned to her friend, eyes sparkling and enthusiasm radiating, and said: "You know what would be funny? To put these on the wall of a bathroom stall. Or on someone's forehead when they go on a date! Oh my god, that would be hilarious!"

Sigh.

But really? The whole experience of actually talking face-to-face with the very people who can benefit from the support these videos supply - parents, adults with T1, teens, kids - was unreal. It had an energy that was just - wow. Do you know what I'm talking about? The air just feels electric and tastes of possibility? Where you catch yourself grinning like a fool for no reason? Where the invisible puzzle pieces of life slide together just ever-so-perfectly for a few fleeting moments? Where you know they won't freeze in place, so you just soak it up while you can?

God, I loved that feeling. Loved.

And out of the whole thing, I have a lot of new videos to share - including the one below (big thank you to Sara for putting it together!). We brought two dry erase boards with us and asked people one of two questions: "What advice do you have for other people with diabetes?", and "What kinds of things CAN you do with diabetes?".

I think it turned out pretty spectacularly. What do you think? (And what would your answer have been? Snap a photo of YOUR advice, and share it on the You Can Do This Project Facebook page.)

Friends For Life: Just Talking.

Chris (of Just Talking podcast and A Consequence of Hypoglycemia fame) assumed the role of cat-herder a couple of times during FFL as he recorded two podcasts with a scattering of adults with T1 (and some of their spouses, too). You'll hear from folks like Lee Ann, Scott, Brian, Jacquie, Jess, Sara, Dayle, Martin, Karen, Simon, Courtney... the list goes on.

We talk about the sessions we were looking forward to, the You Can Do This Project booth (plans, and then the afterthoughts), how we met each other, pregnancy, and anything else that came up.

Head on over and take a listen!

The "before":
http://justtalkingpodcast.com/2012/07/03/friends-for-life-bakers-dozen/

The "after": http://justtalkingpodcast.com/2012/07/10/friends-for-life-aftermath/

And if you'd like to watch a small snippet of the conversation, here you go:

Friends For Life: Where The Magic Lies.

"I did the math - there are probably around 800 people with diabetes in this hotel. If they all test around eight times per day, and we're here the equivalent of five days... that means we generate 32,000 used test strips at the end of this conference. No wonder we're finding them all over the floor." - a father of a child with T1

If I told you that attending the Children With Diabetes Friends For Life conference in Orlando, FL meant that you'd be completely surrounded and engulfed by diabetes for a week (and that it might be one of the single best things you can experience as a person living with T1), would that give you the complete picture? I know it won't.

How can I recreate the feeling; the atmosphere for you? How do I adequately explain the wonder of walking not more than a few steps in the conference center without crossing paths with one of my favorite people, or making a new friend? Can I convey what all of the hugs and face time meant to my heart; my soul? What words can I use to show you how this gathering of our tribe makes us feel stronger, empowered, and more confident?

Showing off our new You Can Do This Project bracelets

The magic lies in the intangibles. The beauty lies in hundreds of small moments of serendipity.

It's in the feelings that ramped up to the exhibit hall opening on Friday - that moment when I felt that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, at exactly the right time.

photo credit: Scully

Friends For Life has this wondrous balance to it - it's the get-down-to-the-heart-of-things seriousness you need, but it also has the silly, no-one-tweet-this moments that keep you giggling for hours, days, and weeks afterward. You learn from attending sessions, but you also learn from simply being around other PWDs and their families. You can't help but want to check your blood sugar, inject, or wear your pump on the outside when you're in this atmosphere. You can't help but smile at the sea of green bracelets worn only by those living with T1. You can't help but feel, at least a little bit, like you've found your tribe.

You feel better because you are there.

You'll hear a chorus of beeps, and then a mass exodus of purse and pocket contents as everyone tries to figure out whose device it was that just alarmed. You'll see each and every food served with a carb count. You'll meet some of the most passionate and driven people in the diabetes community. You'll have the chance to hear from people who have done amazing things, given some of the very same circumstances you face.

The magic is in the moments; the atmosphere; the people.

Is it July 8th, 2013 yet?

Friends For Life: Back To Reality.

You know that thing were you just had a life-changing, sleep-deprived-but-totally-worth-it, soul-nurturing week with your "tribe" in Florida, and the shock of leaving your comfort bubble and returning to the non-diabetes world is jarring your system?

Yeah, that.

I have so much to tell you guys, but I need to get some real-world things done first. (Cue the sad trombone.)

But in a nutshell? FFL12 was an absolutely amazing experience, in every sense of that word.

Cleaning.

As I pack myself up to fly to Florida tomorrow, I'm also cleaning a few things out - like my inbox, and all of the pictures on my phone.

* A company called Orpyx (they sell sensor-based devices for both medical and athletic stuff, and are currently focusing on technologies involving DPN [diabetic peripheral neuropathy]). Complications are one of those topics that can totally shut down a conversation for us PWDs - who wants to talk about that kind of stuff, right? But the more we know, the more we can do - for ourselves and others. In that spirit, here's a flashy (but kind of long) animated infographic they put together on the topic of DPN and foot care.

* Glooko announced earlier this week that they've launched in the EU - read the press release here.

* Medtronic Diabetes has a couple new things up their sleeves: a Facebook app that will feature patients' milestones right along with Medtronic's product launches and updates. A synopsis:

The app allows customers to upload photos and stories about the important moments in their lives – whether its climbing a mountain, learning to cook or just spending time with family. The app captures the information as a life event and shares on that individual’s Facebook wall. In addition, it allows us to post that life event as a milestone on the Medtronic Diabetes timeline. So, essentially we’re crowdsourcing our Facebook timeline. We did this because we want our timeline to be filled with more than just the innovation milestones of new products – we also want it to include the milestones of the people who use our technology every day.

Also, on the MySentry front, coverage has expanded:

Wellmark of Iowa has established coverage for mySentry for individuals who are currently using insulin pump therapy and CGM and are still experiencing glucose fluctuations or nocturnal hypoglycemia. We also just found out from our reimbursement team that BlueCross BlueShield of Illinois, Texas, Oklahoma and New Mexico have all lowered the documentation requirements for CGM, expanding access to the technology to more people with diabetes in those states.

Hooray!

* On a more self-promotional front, the You Can Do This Project website has a couple of noticable changes. First: you know that link list that I had to keep on this site (because Wordpress.com won't accept the link widget)? Well, it's going away soon.

I've wanted everything involving YCDT on that site for a while, and now that most of the videos have been added to that site, now seems like a good time to make the transition. This may leave you wondering, "So if there's no link list, how do I submit a new video?", which is a nice transition to my second point, so thanks for that. New videos will now be submitted through the online form on the "how to participate" page - go take a look!

* This made me laugh, and then immediately made me feel guilty for laughing.

* And now for the photo dump portion of this post:

Billy Corgin says Hi.

Nice try, Jif, but I'm not falling for it.

My first No Hitter in weeks. WEEKS. Boom!

* And lastly, be warned that things could be pretty quiet around here for a bit as I'll be spending the week in Florida - first with Sara and then at the CWD Friends For Life conference. I don't have any guest posts or anything lined up while I'm gone, nor do I know how often I'll have the ability to blog while I'm there, but if you follow me on Twitter (or like my Facebook page) I'll be updating those frequently. I plan to take many, many pictures and record a lot of video, so look out for that ahead, too.

Later, dudes!

We've Got A Booth. WE'VE GOT A BOOTH.

Remember back in February, when I was all, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if we could get a table at Friends For Life for the You Can Do This Project"?

And then remember how, about five hours later, you guys totally blew me away with your speedy and generous donations, and we met (and then proceeded to exceed) the fundraising goal I had set?

And then (and then and then and then) I told you guys that we had a table reserved?

Well, I have good news. I must have a fairy godmother, because that table has now turned into a LEGIT BOOTH SPACE.

My heart, it soars.



As far as I can deduce, we're the only grassroots organization represented in "the hall", as I'm now referring to it. Everyone else is a registered non-profit, or a for-profit pharamceutical company, and probably has some sort of income that allows them big, cool signs and flashy give-aways.

You might be able to guess that we won't quite have that.

What we will have are passionate volunteers (some of the You Can Do This Project Advisory Team will be present, along with a few other friends in the community) willing to talk to people about what this intiative is all about, what resources they'll find through it, and how to participate, if they choose. We'll probably have some postcard-sized flyers to hand out, and maybe a couple other things. (For those wondering, the booth didn't cost extra. FFL very, very kindly offered me an "upgrade", as they had some rearranging of the hall space to do. I was happy to help.)

The money raised in February has secured the hall space for both FFL and TCOYD Des Moines, along with some of the printing costs for flyers and a sign. Somehow, I'll need to find the extra cash for things like giveaway rubber bracelets (how cool would it be for kids and adults alike with T1 to have that encouraging reminder to take home on their wrist?) and the other odds and ends that need to come together. Like, for example, a table. (Booths don't automatically come with them. Ironic, no? I was literally only paying for a table before.)

Anywho... that's the scoop at this point. I like to keep you all informed. This whole thing is aimed at getting more people and families connected to people who "get it" when it comes to life with diabetes, and it's about ALL of us supporting each other. I can't do this without you all. Thank you.

CWD FFL: Moments.

image credit: Sara

One thing that was said many times throughout the week that was Friends For Life was that the organizers hoped to help "create moments" for all of us. Moments that we would remember, cherish, laugh about. Moments that likely would never happen, if not for the wonderful group that conference brings together.

Moments that can last us for the next twelve months, until we can do this all over again.

Moments like that one time I was washing my hands in the bathroom at the convention center, and the adorable little blonde girl at the sink next to me gave a glance my way. Seeing the green bracelet on my wrist that matched hers, she grinned and said to me, "You have diabetes TOO?", to which I replied, "Yep! Just like you." "Cool." Yeah, it kind of is, isn't it? (I ran into her and her family a few more times that week, so I gave her my email address in case she ever wanted to write me. "My mom won't let me have a Facebook yet." "GOOD - she's a smart lady.")

Moments like seeing my horde of FWDs (friends with diabetes!) at D-Coaster Day for the very first time. I found the group as they were finishing their ice cream (yes, I said ice cream) and gave everyone a huge hug. Because my Dexcom graph was doing an impersonation of the downhill portion of a ski jump, I opted for ice cream as well, and went to stand in line. Seconds later, after having just "met", I found Jacquie at my side. "I thought I'd come stand with you." Aww.

And speaking of D-Coaster Day, there was also that moment when Sara and I held down a park bench together outside of the Space Mountain ride, and tried to talk each other out of hurling. We wondered if the "riding while low" thing was what did it in for Sara. We also noticed that the gentleman on the bench next to Sara couldn't quite keep his attention away from us, but not in a creepy way - just in a, "I'd like to jump in on this conversation but can't find the right time" way. Turns out he was a paramedic, and thought we might need the crackers in his backpack. Again, aww.

Moments like this:

Heather: knitting. Becca: making herself comfortable.

Moments where doing a blood test felt like this normal thing that everyone has to do, rather than this annoying thing that only I have to do.

Waking up one morning to Sara telling me: "I heard your Dexcom going off, but it was the high alarm, so I just let you sleep. I figured you'd value the sleep more than the correction bolus." She knows me well, folks. (It was also funny when she added, "And then I thought about just bolusing for you - because your pump would be able to figure out your correction - but I just let it go", and I replied with, "Thanks anyway, Mom.")

Moments like the one where I realized that I had the best roommates! (Heather, I still feel super bad about Sara and I waking you up nearly every night, well past midnight, when we rolled in. Also, to Becca: I'm sorry for making you bark that first night, when I tried to be all quiet about my entrance. And thanks for being so mellow the rest of the week!)

The "First Timers" reception on Wednesday morning, where event organizers gave us some tips for the week, and conducted a little bit of an ice breaker. We were asked to leave our tables and go sit where we would if the room were a giant map of the U.S. - so, being a Nebraskan, I sat right in the middle. And even though it appeared that I was the only Nebraska native in attendance (at least, as a First Timer), my fellow Midwesterners from Kansas, Iowa, and Colorado joined me at my table. (I think it may be impossible, either emotionally or physically, to feel "alone" at this conference. And that's a great, great thing.)

Moments like that one in the pool, where my prominently-displayed Ping grabbed the attention of a young family whose son was wearing the same insulin pump.

The first time walking into the huge exhibit hall, and thinking (as I tried to not be cynical at about the "business" side of it), "This is all here... for me. Kinda."  To have a ginormous room full of people who totally get what your day-to-day needs are is something kind of special. The free swag was also special.

Speaking of free swag, I got around to having that moment that I mentioned several months back - I got to try an automatic infusion set! (I did, however, need some help with it, so thanks for the assists, Heather and Brian!) I talked to an Animas rep at the hall, and told her that I'd never tried their infusion sets before - and she hooked me up with one each of the Inset and Inset 30 to try. When it came time to do my set change on Saturday, I gave the Inset 30 a go - no better time than when you're surrounded by PWDs, right? Heather helped me dislodge the thing, and as I went to finish reloading my pump, I realized that the Animas rep hadn't given me any tubing. Which would render the set useless. Except that Brian saved the day by seeing my tweet and trotting over to our room to lend me some of his, all within a couple of minutes. (Twitter - gotta love it.)

Moments like the one where I realized that Courtney seems to spontaneously dance as often as the rest of us blink.

It was super cool to meet people like Tom from DRI, Andy and Gary from JDRF, Joe from Team Type 1, and all of those DOC people who normally just live in my computer. (I'd also like to say that all of those people were just as awesome as they appear to be online. Diabetes picks the best people?)

Moments like our last night there, spent at Downtown Disney, where the medical director of Roche Diabetes Care asked my opinion of a Tinkerbell statute he was considering for his daughter. (A third time - aww.)

The fact that the cryfest at the Farewell Breakfast was tipped off by yours truly. (The "tears up too easily" part of my Twitter bio isn't an exaggeration.)

And that moment, on one of our last nights there, when there were around 22 of us sitting at the same shoved-together assortment of tables. Scott Johnson was sitting next to me, and we were both just listening. Being present. He smiled at me and said, "Just look at this. Take it all in. Isn't this awesome?"

We both shook our heads and laughed a little, at just how true that was.

image credit: I'm not sure!

CWD FFL - That Feeling.

Every night felt like one of those great slumber parties you have when you're a kid, where you want to stay up as late as you possibly can and giggle until your sides hurt.

You enjoyed each moment as best you could, but never quite fully - because you were ever cognizant of how fleeting this time together would be.

photo credit: Jacquie

You hugged and cried and laughed with family, who were technically strangers. Our blood may not have been related, but our pancreases (pancrei?) belonged to the same club.

photo credit: Sara

We all wore the Green Wristband of Significance. We swam with our pumps and sensors and IV tape and scar tissue and bruises out for all the world to see. We did synchronized swimming. (Okay, we just did the Cupid Shuffle while in the pool - but that counts!)

photo credit: Sara

The Diet Coke was, for the one-time price of $14.90, limitless. (And seemed to cause some dehydration - but that's another story.)

There were free cupcakes at one point.

High and low blood sugars abounded. Emergency supplies were exchanged. Humalog pens were lent out. The Florida humidity meant a sweaty early morning walk to the convention center each day. Rollercoasters made us queasy.

Every day was so imperfectly perfect.

original photo credit: Martin

How do you sum up something like that? How do you quantify it? How do you explain to anyone without diabetes what that feels like?

And how cliché is it if I say that I really do feel like I have Friends For Life?

When I signed up for the Children With Diabetes Friends For Life conference, I did so with a tiny thought in the back of my mind: With a name like that, I hope there's a place for an adult like me. This was my first CWD conference, and even though I knew adults with type 1 who had gone before (and enthusiastically recommended it), I was cautious about getting too excited.

2011 was the first year that CWD had an "adults with type 1" specific set of sessions, and so I didn't set much in the way of expectations of what those sessions would be. Truthfully, my main reason in wanting to go was to get to hang out with that great assembly of people for 5-ish days.

I set my expectations way, way too low.

I thought that some sessions had good value, like the "Finding Support Through Social Media" session with Scott and Kerri - it had a casual feel to it, and those of us who were proficient in the subject matter could lend advice and ideas to those who were new. Kerri's session on "Diabetes and Pregnancy" also was a favorite - except for those awkward moments when a man would try to walk into the session halfway through (were we so quiet, they thought the room was empty, maybe?).

I thought that some sessions were pointless, like the Novo Nordisk sponsored "Grown-ups with type 1" hour. The facilitator didn't seem to have any working knowledge of life with diabetes, and it showed. Painfully. ("Do you try to avoid lows?" "Raise your hand if your last A1C was under 7!" It was totally uncomfortable, and didn't really seem to accomplish much beyond providing some market research findings for the pharma company sponsoring it.)

The session that had the most punch for me was the "Avoiding and Overcoming Diabetes Burnout" session with Dr. Jill Weissberg-Benchell. (She is both a pediatric psychologist and a CDE, and "works regularly with children and teens and their families to facilitate coping with diabetes and other chronic conditions". And, really, I've never met a person who so totally "got it" without "having it" themselves. She is a rockstar.) What started as a guided discussion on managing the day-to-day of diabetes turned into one big group therapy session. Fifteen of so of us adults with type 1 sat in a circle, finishing each other's sentences and passing each other the Kleenex. It was... beautiful.

I know that won't sound like a good time to some, but it was exactly the honest, gritty conversation I needed to have. And with just the kind of people I needed to have it with.

That feeling - the one where you feel understood in some unspoken way; where you feel like you are "among your kind"; where you fear your heart might explode from the joy it's holding? It was one of the best gifts FFL could have given me.

* * * * *

Disclosure-y stuff: The CWD people did not ask me to write about the FFL conference, nor did they provide any compensation for my attendance. All expenses associated with this trip were out of my own pocket, and as always, all opinions are my own.

CWD FFL - Getting Back.

Well, hi there!

The absence of free wifi, a jam packed schedule at the Children With Diabetes Friends For Life conference in Orlando, FL, and my phone's refusal to publish a blog post (not really so smart, are you, Mister Phone?) didn't allow for the intermittent blogging opportunities I'd hoped for last week.

And yet, now that I'm home (but nowhere near unpacked) and have a bit of time, I don't know where to start.

There's so much I want to tell you - about the conference; the "adults with type 1" sessions; D-Coaster Day; the people I met; the fun I had. I want to talk about why I think next year can be even more great. I want to find a time machine and bring you all back with me so we can all live that week again.

But for now, I've got this.

One room, three PWDs, three Dexcoms, three insulin pumps,
and one Super Dog.  The night-long chorus of pump and CGM alarms,
combined with canine sleepy noises, made for some ill-rested nights -
and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. (Those BG readings, however -
those I would have been alright with changing.)

Roomies!

The Team Type 1 crew at FFL 2011. And also, me.

The irony of attending a diabetes conference - ridiculous blood sugars.