Catching Up.

There is so much to recount from this weekend, but I sadly don't have the time right now to give you all of the details - I'm at work, and there is soooo much to catch up on.  So, here are some highlights and thoughts from my weekend, and trip to NYC.  More details coming later.

1. Airport security proved to be No Big. 
2. NYC street vendor hot dogs are delish.
3. The subway is not as scary or confusing as it first seems, but you need to make sure that your train is going to correct direction before you hop on it, and ride it for 8 stops.
4. Shake Shack is where it's at.
5. Somehow, I never ate a cupcake the whole time I was there.  (I know.)
6. I have never done so much walking and so many stairs in a 3-day period in my life. 
7. I could save a lot of money on insulin by moving to NYC (see #6).
8. The PWD I met up with this past weekend were just as awesome as I imagined they would be!
9. I'm converting from my old PC to a Mac.  Trying to figure out a Mac after so many years is making me doubt my intelligence.  But I'll figure it out.
10. I want to go back to NYC!

Guest Post from Ronald, "The Poor Diabetic".

Today's post comes from Ronald, who blogs at The Poor Diabetic.  Ronald has type 2 diabetes, and I'm happy to share his viewpoint here on Texting My Pancreas.  Take it away, Ronald!


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I can't believe that this is my first guest posting opportunity, but when I heard Kim was going on vacation, I was compelled to play the house-sitting part.  On her blog and as with any house sitting gig, you wanna make sure you take care of the pad and keep it at the accustomed standard.  In my zeal to create a compelling post that will rank in the level of her usual standards , I practically almost lost track of time and she had to jolt me a reminder a few days before she left.

So here I am talking about partying like its 1999 and I am a Blunt Lancet groupie, all in the name of taking a vacation from diabetes.

In many cases when you are on a stringent routine of sorts, it is recommended that you take a break to recharge and refuel so you can come back strong; I wondered if I could use this logic with the 'betes.

So for one day and one day only:

1.  No more testing
2.  No carb counting
3.  No gym
4. Insulin/Metformin

Would I come out the better on the other side if I just walked away from diabetes for a day?  Because I believe my psyche is really pushing me to do it.

In the "Diabetes Burnout," book, William Polonsky, Ph.D., says that "Part of taking care of diabetes is to remember that safe breaks now and then are a necessary, allowable part of your treatment plan."

So this is by no means a precedent move and taken in a “controlled environment” it might actually work.  I might not be able to promise you what the other side of the safe break might look like, but I for one am intrigued enough to try it.

But then again, I am a T2 and the effects of a day without insulin might not be as devastating as for a T1, so the parameters of said "controlled environment" might just have be different for everyone.

If you could, would you go just one day without diabetes?

Thanks Kim for giving me the chance to house-sit your blog and I hope you have a great time in NYC.


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Ronald Gregory is a type 2 diabetic, blogger, and author.  He's also on Twitter!  Thanks for lending your voice, Ronald!

Guest Post: The To-Don't List.

Today, I'm thrilled to share this post from Becky, of Instructions Not Included.  Becky, who resides in the United Kingdom, recently took the leap to insulin pumping from MDI (multiple daily injections).  She shares her experiences, sense of humor, and affinity for charming words (like "settee", and "niggles" - which , truthfully, I had to Google) with us in today's guest post. 

The floor is yours, Becky!

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So, today is the start of week three with my pump. So far things are going pretty well for the most part. However, it's to be expected that there will always be a few 'bumpy' moments along the road. With this in mind, I've compiled my anti to-do list; the "to-don't" list. This summarizes my wisdom (or lack thereof) gathered so far.

Here we go:

1: Do not catch tubing on doorknobs
(So far, no cannulas have been hurt in the process of closing doors, and similarly drawers)

2: Do not buckle tubing into belt
(This makes standing up straight difficult)

3: Do not drop pump in toilet
(Always a good piece of advice - thankfully this remains unaccomplished)

4: Do not disconnect pump to take a shower then forget where you put it
(It is not your phone - you cannot get someone to call it to find it)

5: Do not forget to put pump back in your pocket when you take it out
(Otherwise you will stand up in a rush, and forget you left it on the settee. You will remember quickly, though)

6: Do not underestimate how few 'pocketed' items of clothing you own
(You will spend an inordinate amount of time wearing hoodies, since you've had no time to shop)

7: Do not decide to hook pump tubing over your jumper whilst trying on clothes
(You will somehow get it tangled between layers and get in an extremely panicky mess)

8: Do not confuse your pump, mobile phone, and meter
(Whilst they are all wearing purple silicone skins, and you are extremely tired, you cannot text on your pump, and you cannot insert a test strip into your phone)

9: Do not be afraid of a few weeks of erratic scores
(Things take time to settle down - this is an entirely new way of doing things)

10: Do not be surprised when you discover that despite the niggles, you actually quite like this pumping thing
(Quite a number of people did tell you that you would)

And I won't even touch the subject of reading advice via text message on how to hide the pump in your bra when you're inside York Minster. Reading the text there, for the record. As far as I'm aware, York Minster doesn't have specific protocols for wearing pumps!
 
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Becky can be found blogging about her life with diabetes here, and you can also find her on Twitter.
 
Thank you, Becky!

Guest Post: Armed (with a lancet) & Dangerous.

This weekend, A and I are taking a brief trip to New York City to visit friends and to do what tourists do (there will also be a d-meetup while we're there, but more on that later!).  Some friends in the diabetes online community graciously offered to guest post for me while I'm "out", and today I'm honored to share with you this post from Holly, of Arnold and Me.  I love her attitude, humor, and the timely reference to one of my favorite movies!

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Living with diabetes means living with a lot of numbers and wondering about numbers. “I wonder what my blood sugar is right now.” “Am I dropping? And how fast?” “I feel sleepy, maybe I have ketones.” My brain is constantly wondering where I am and where I’m headed. Having a CGM helps ease my ever-wondering mind, but the scientist in me still wonders about . . . other people.

My poor husband, he is the main target of my “data collecting” for normal-people’s blood sugar readings. Whenever he gets a cut on his hand or fingers, he comes to me inquiring where the bandages are located. However, before I find the bandages, I scream, “Let’s test your blood sugar first!” And I hurry to get a strip into my meter before his blood clots. This isn’t the first time my dear husband has indulged my curiosity, so he just shakes his head and puts his finger out as I ready the meter. The guy has never had a reading over 99 mg/dL, lucky pancreas-working stud.

But he isn’t the only one who’s endured my wrath of curiosity. One holiday weekend while at my parents’ house, my brother made an off-the-cuff comment about what his blood sugar might be. I was already preparing the lancet before he said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” “Testing your blood sugar,” I said, pointing the lancet at him. “No way . . . I ummm . . . I was just kidding.” “Chicken,” I teased. Well, my big brother will never allow his little sister be deemed tougher than him, and nothing is tougher than drawing your own blood 8-10 times a day. So, he reluctantly agreed to let me test him the next morning before he had any coffee. And the poor baby whined the rest of the day about his wittle hurting finger.

Several other family members have allowed me to test them, but none have let me do it more than once. And they know better than to make even a suggestion to the idea within ear shot of me, because before they know it I’ll be coming at them with a very intimidating little finger-pricker. This seemingly small action that we (diabetics) do multiple times a day seems to be emotionally scarring to normal folk. I just keep imagining Buddy the Elf over and over in my head saying, “My finger has a heartbeat,” as they hold a napkin to their tested finger. Most of them look up at me, wide-eyed and frowning, “That kinda hurt.” Then they think I’m all tough and Amazon-like when I prick my finger, squeeze the blood out, and lick the blood off my finger, all seemingly in one motion.

“How do you do that?” they ask, pondering my numbness to the whole action. “Oh, it’s just part of my day,” I say with a grin. Nothing makes them more impressed with me managing diabetes than imagining me redoing the single scarring act they endured over and over.

So the next time you want to sympathize with your diabetic loved-one, try empathizing instead. Stick out your finger and say, “Here, go ahead!” Don’t worry, we don’t mind when you wince.

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You can find Holly and her wonderful diabetes blog here, and you can also find her on Twitter.

Thanks again, Holly!  :)

Freaking Out. A Little.

There are few things in life that get me more worked up and stressed out than flying, and I'm doing just that this weekend.  All of it - the flying, the getting worked up, and the stress.

I'm going to my Happy Place.

The actual flying isn't what gets me - I feel as safe in an airplane as I do anywhere else.  For me, the issue lies in all of the "other" parts of flying.  For instance, the part where things can get mixed up, or run late, or I can't find parking, or my flight gets delayed/cancelled and I get stuck in Detriot overnight (that's happened to me), or I only have 42 minutes between flights (that's happening tomorrow), or I realize too late that I forgot to pack something totally important.

I'm also kind of freaking out about the new TSA security procedures.  A little bit.

The last time I flew, I had some good and bad experiences.  I've read through the TSA's guidelines for people with diabetes, and I'm coming up with a gameplan to make this process as un-lame as possible - I'm planning to disconnect my pump when I'm in the security line, and will put it in the huge ziplock bag of d-stuff that I'll ask to be visually inspected/wanded/whatever.  Since my Animas pump is mostly metal, I know I can't get through the scanners with it on, so I'm not even going to try. 

I'm also fairly confident that my Dexcom sensor is going to set off the scanner, too, so I'm preparing myself mentally for that creepy full-body patdown.  (Fun!)

Add into all of this the lack of sleep I'll be getting, as we're flying out at 6:00 am, and the part about how my glucose level drops significantly in response to anxiety (I already had to start decreasing my basal rates on Tuesday, when it actually "hit me" that our trip is this weekend already), and it's sounding like a pretty eventful morning. 

But totally, totally worth it.

The Donut Hole.

There are some rules to know when putting in a new CGM sensor.  One of the things I learned during from Dexcom during my initial training was that the skin you're inserting the sensor wire into should be completely clean of everything - oil, lotion, and even antiseptic wipe residue.  If not, the sensor won't read correctly.  (Sometimes, it doesn't read correctly anyway, but that's another story.)

This is hard to do, though, since something like those sticky, yet helpful, antiseptic wipes (I use the IV Prep ones) are exactly what I need to use to help the sensor's adhesive stick to me for more than a few measly hours. 

What I end up doing (and I'll bet I'm not the only one) is to first wipe the whole area with an alcohol swab, let that dry, and then make a swipe in the shape of an oval (roughly the size of the sensor) with the IV Prep wipe.  This leaves a small area in the middle, which is clean from the alcohol, and untouched by the antiseptic.

The biggest challenge here, aside from the part where I need to be okay with this huge needle jabbing into me, is that after the antiseptic dries on my skin, it's really hard to tell where that middle spot is.  I often need to have A come look at the area for me, from a different angle, to tell me where the non-shiny part resides.  When I did this on Monday night, it came out this way:  "Um, I can't see it anymore.  Could you come here, and tell me where the donut hole is?"

I have no idea why I called it that, but think I'll be working that term into my regular vocabulary.

Eww.

Warning:  This post contains details that are kind of icky.

One of the benefits (or drawbacks, depending on how you look at things) of living with diabetes is that you develop a pretty high tolerance for all things Gross.  The sight of blood doesn't phase you in the same way it seems to bother most other people.  Needles?  Pssh.  Please.  Give me a real challenge.

That said, living with diabetes doesn't mean you won't still get a few moments of Gross that surprise you.  Last night, for reasons that escape me, I had a "gusher".  For those unfamiliar, a "gusher" is what soemtimes happens when an insulin pump infusion site is removed, and the hole it leaves consequently starts spurting or leaking blood.  (A Blood Faucet, if you will.)  I had been readjusting the bottom of my shirt, and somehow caught my pump tubing when I yanked - and, as you might guess, my less-than-24-hour-old pump site came with it.

And so did a whole lot of blood.

You'll notice that the cannula didn't even have blood
in it.  He was perfectly clean!  Jerk.

In my five years of pumping, this is only the second one I've had - which are pretty good odds, I guess.  It wasn't something I handled gracefully, either - I could be heard yelling, "Awwww, crap!" when I saw the blood on my hand (because yes, it splattered everywhere).

Eww.