When I made the appointment with a general practitioner, I suspected that I had diabetes. I had all the classic symptoms: extreme thirst, weight loss without trying, insatiable hunger, etc.  I was also getting recurring yeast infections and my fingernails were doing weird things.

When the doctor told me he suspected I was diabetic, I wasn’t surprised.  What did surprise me was his “treatment” idea.  The appointment was on a Friday afternoon.  The doctor (I can’t even remember his name) told me to fast all weekend.  NO FOOD FOR TWO DAYS.  He said that sometimes, doing this can “jump start” a person’s body and stop diabetes.  He made a follow-up appointment for Monday morning.

Knowing what I do now, I know that this was complete and total bullshit.  But back then, I didn’t know much about diabetes; I only knew the symptoms. 

So, I did what I was told.  I didn’t eat anything all weekend.  I drank gallons of water because my thirst didn’t go away, and I struggled with headaches, nausea, and dizziness the entire time.

When I got back to his office on Monday morning, he tested by BG.  I don’t remember the exact number, but it was somewhere around 400 mg/dl – even higher than it had been on Friday.

Instead of reaching the logical disgnosis of Type 1 diabetes, he accused me of cheating.  When I made it clear that I hadn’t had anything except water, he didn’t attempt to hide his doubt.  He declared me a Type 2 diabetic and gave me a prescription for Glyburide. 

For two weeks, I took the pills, and had significant success.  However, I had some horrible lows, as well.  Looking back, I know I was very insulin sensitive at that time, and the Glyburide just made my pancreas work harder while it was dying.  I’m convinced that those few short weeks I was on the drug hastened the near complete destruction of my beta cells.

I stopped taking the pills because the extreme highs and lows were impossible to manage.  I made an appointment with a new PCP, who prescribed Metformin.  I started off in small doses, but with each follow-up appointment, and no improvements, he increased my dose.  Met made me very, very sick.  I think I vomited at least three times per week while taking it.  And my BG stayed high.

After being hospitalized several times for near DKA (I never actually got to the critical point), I was referred to an endo. 

The rest of the story starts here.

My appointment with Dr. S. started well enough.  Traffic into downtown Baltimore was brutal, but I gave myself plenty of time.  The drive from my office (just on the edge of the city) to the hospital where Dr. S. maintains an office is well, interesting.  It takes me through some of Baltimore’s toughest neighborhoods, which can be a little intimidating. 

Baltimore is a rough city.  Riddled with drugs, crime, corruption, and poverty, the inner city has become something of a battle ground.  Rarely does a day pass when there hasn’t been a murder, nevermind the two or three that seem to be the “norm.”  And it’s getting worse.

As I drove through the streets of Baltimore, at 1pm, I was struck by the number of people just . . . hanging out.  These people were not at work in the middle of the day; they were just sitting on their stoops shooting the breeze.  Doesn’t anyone work?  Seriously, there were hundreds of people just hanging around.  I saw at least two drug deals go down (where are the cops?!?)  Anyway, I am digressing a bit from my original purpose for this post (must focus my short attention span better). 

So, after the enlightening drive in, I arrived 20 minutes early for my appointment.  The first thing that I noticed was the very busy waiting room.  Normally, when I go to Dr. S.’s office, it’s pretty empty.  Yesterday, there were at least six people waiting.  I signed in, paid my co-pay, and took a seat. 

A few minutes later, the medical assistant person (one I’d never seen before) called my name (actually, she called Ms. Burnadette – why is it so difficult to pronounce a name that is so freaking easy?). 

She weighed me (SCARY!!!), took my BP (slightly elevated, but not surprising given the aforementioned drive in), pulse (also slightly elevated), and BG (120 mg/dl).  Then, and this is why I’m still reeling, she began to enter my info into the computer.  At one point, she was clearly frustrated. 

She said, “This is so messed up.  It has two different diagnoses for you.  One is Type 1, and the other is Type 1 Adult Onset.” 

Hoping to help her out, I told her that I am a Type 1 who was diagnosed in my twenties.  She then asked if I take “pills” for my diabetes.  I told her that no, as a Type 1, I need insulin to control my blood sugar. 

She said (and this is where I nearly lost it), “I don’t even know the difference between Type 1 and Type 2!”

WHAT?!? She works in an endocrinologist’s office and she doesn’t know the basics of diabetes!

I calmly attempted to explain the difference, but once she heard “beta cells in the pancreas,” her eyes glazed over and she stopped listening (must find less technical ways of describing diabetes).  I gave up and returned to the waiting area. 

Here’s something I really like about Dr. S.: *he* comes to the waiting room and escorts patients to his office.  Most doctors have their office set up so that you (the patient) are escorted to an exam room by a medical assistant.  Then, you sit in that room until the doctor comes in.  Dr. S. does the talky part of the appointment first, then the exam after that.  It’s really nice.

Here’s the other thing I really like about him: he actually apologizes to patients when he keeps them waiting.  My appointment was at 2:00, but I didn’t see him until 2:40.  Most doctors would just act as though their time is far more valuable than yours. Dr. S. doesn’t do that, and I respect him more for it.

He escorted me back to his office, and we talked about what’s been going on.  Telling him about Lisa was especially hard, but I managed to do it without sobbing, so score one for me!  We also talked about the failed IUIs and other infertility stuff. 

Then, I started babbling about my weight and how unhappy I am.  I told him about my new low-carb resolve (today is day three and I haven’t cheated once!) and asked for his thoughts on Metformin.  His answer surprised me.  He didn’t feel that the potential benefits (Met is weight neutral, meaning that it doesn’t cause weight gain OR weight loss) were worth the potential risks.  When I said that I needed something to help get a handle on my weight, he said that because I’m TTC, I have very limited options.  His exact words were:  “yeah, it sucks.”

I can go back on Symlin during the times when there’s no chance of pregnancy: like now, thank you ovarian cysts, or the time from when I get my period until IUI day.  But it’s not really worth it if I can’t ever adjust to the drug long enough to avoid the horrible nausea.  Besides, I’m not eating enough carbs to take Symlin.

When I left his office, we had made no changes to my treatment plan.  I felt somewhat defeated, but I recognize that there is no magic pill for weight loss.  I’ve got to stick to my new way of eating and get some exercise.  It can work; I just have to stay focused.

So, that’s the (not-so) skinny on my appointment with Dr. S.  I see him again in three months (I can’t believe November is three months away!), and I’m hopeful that I’ll have lost a decent amount of weight by then. 

Or that I’m pregnant – that would rock, too.

Way back when I was jumping off of the Medtronic sinking ship, I had to choose a new life raft.  Did I go with the OmniPod or the Animas Ping?  We all know which raft I chose: the OmniPod.

For a while, it was great.  It was so nice not to have to worry about tubing and “where to put the pump.” Although a bit large and bulky, the Pods seemed to do so well on the back of my arms.  I had good absorption and they didn’t get in my way too much.  It was such a great solution, I wrote a poem about it (which led to the Dexcom poem - whiney bitch!).

Then it happened.  I started running out of real estate.  I evicted the Dexcom sensors from my arms, and they took up residence on my ass.  But, when I started to have absorption issues on my arms, I had to find a new home for the Pods. 

My abdomen was out (thank you MM CGM sensors), and my butt was taken ( honestly, it is big enough for both – I just couldn’t get the Pod not to interfere with clothing and sitting, etc.).  I decided to try my legs. 

Normally, I’ll put a tubed infusion set right at the top of my thigh, but I couldn’t do that with the Pod.  First, I still have these annoyingly large seromas on each leg, from the top to the mid-thigh area. So, I had to find a spot even lower on my leg.  I settled on the lower thigh area, which seemed pretty good.  I wear lots of skirts, dresses, and wide-leg pants, so you couldn’t see the Pod at all. 

Sadly, I am a klutz.  Seriously, if there’s a wall, table, edge, corner, or other protruding object, I’m going to hit it when I walk by.  I began losing Pods left and right.  That’s when the doubts came full force.

At the same time, I read Sarah’s post at Sugabetic about how she’d ditched the Pod in favor of the Ping.  She wrote about the Animas Access Program, whereby you can trade in your current pump, pay $200, and get a reconditioned Ping. 

The seed of doubt grew.  That same week, I went through four Pods in three days.  Three were knocked off, and one occluded.  And that’s all it took.

I called Animas, set it up, and got my pink Ping.  It’s been almost a week, and I really feel like I made the right decision.  Sure, it’s somewhat annoying to be tethered again, but the Ping makes a lot of the things I disliked about tubed pumping irrelevant.  For example, I always hated having to find a home for the pump (usually in my bra) and then, have to go diving for it when I needed to bolus.  This always made for an awkward moment amongst new company.  Problem solved with the Ping’s meter/remote.

I also didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t swim without taking off my pump.  Even with the OmniPod, this was a concern.  The Ping is totally waterproof, which means I can even shower with it if I want to (not that I want to).

I’m slowly getting used to the tubing again.  Since I don’t sleep with the pump attached to my PJs, I have to remind myself during those middle-of-the-night bathroom breaks to grab it before it hits the floor.  And I have to double check my clothing in the mirror to make sure I don’t have tubing hanging out anywhere.  But to me, these are small prices to pay for the extra real estate – I have so many more options with the small infusion set – and, frankly, cheaper co-pays. 

Overall, I’m very happy with this decision.  I feel a little bad about packing my PDM up and sending it away, but not *that* bad.  We all have to do what’s best for us, and right now, I think the Ping is it.

Now, if they would just get that Dexcom integration thing DONE!

Tomorrow, I see Dr. S.  Yep, it’s time for a visit to the principal’s office.

I have mixed feelings about this.  I am looking forward to and dreading this appointment at the same time.   There will be no lab results; no A1c.  As always, I’ll be weighed (dreaded moment #1), BP checked (this shouldn’t be bad, but who knows?), and BG tested on their dinosaur meter, whose results are ALWAYS vastly different from mine.

We’re going to review my Dexcom reports (dreaded moment #2) and see what, if any, chances need to be made.

We will be making changes.  I have to make some changes.

I know he’s going to ask me about my weight gain (dreaded moment #3).  I have some good reasons for this: my sister’s death, fertility drugs, blah, blah, blah.  They’re all just bullshit excuses.  I’ve gained weight because I’ve been eating like crap and not exercising.  PERIOD.  

But, I feel so deep in this hole that I have no idea how to get out.  I was doing so well on Symlin, but it’s not safe during pregnancy, so I had to stop.  And it pisses me off because so many of the things I’m doing (or not doing) because they’re unsafe for pregnancy are probably for nothing. 

I have a point; I promise.

Starting today and for the foreseeable future, I’m going to be eating only low-carb foods.  No more pasta; no more fries.  I will not eat any of that stuff because it is my own personal kryptonite.  I’m going to stick to protein, fat, and veggies (of the uncooked variety – I loathe cooked vegetables)

I’m also going to ask Dr. S. about Metformin.  This is a big fear because Met is one of the meds I was given during my misdiagnosis fiasco. It did nothing for me except make me sick.  But, I’ve read that the XR version is much easier to tolerate, and at this point, I’m willing to try.  It’s also a pregnancy category B drug, which means that it’s probably safe (nothing is category A).

One of my biggest problems right now is my insulin intake.  I’ve definitely got some resistance happening, and it’s leading to much higher doses of insulin to cover basal and bolus needs, which is leading to more fat storage, which is leading to greater insulin needs, etc. It’s an endless cycle.

There’s got to be an easier way!

I have made no secret of my struggle with diabulimia. And there is this big voice in my head that’s telling me to just stop taking so much insulin.  Just take a small shot here and there to avoid DKA.  My weight would drop so quickly, and I’d feel great.  That’s the thing that makes it so appealing.  When I was restricting insulin, I felt fantastic.  Most of the time, I had no idea how high I really was, but it didn’t matter – I had tons of energy.  Now, I struggle just to get out of bed in the morning.

But, I won’t do it.  I’ve spent the past three years trying to maintain a decent A1c so that I can have a baby.  I’m not going to throw that all away now for a quick fix to my weight issues.  I want to.  But I won’t.

I have a plan, and I’m going to do my best to stick with it:

1. Eat low-carb
2. Take Metformin
3. Exercise

If anyone has any suggestions or words of wisdom, please, please share!

So, I’m totally not trying to be an asshole, but WHAT THE FUCK?

At 8:54am, I received two emails.  The first, from my boss, was to announce that our  staff meeting on 9/13 is actually a secret baby shower for a guy on our team. I have no problem with this sort of event.  I really don’t.  I’ll gladly contribute whatever money is asked.  I like this person, and I’m very happy for him and his wife.  But, I will not attend this shower.  I can’t sit through another event where people are celebrating something that I’ve worked so hard for and still don’t have.  I’ve done my time at baby showers.  I can’t and won’t subject myself to that pain anymore.

The 2^nd email was from someone I don’t know.  It was sent to EVERYONE, and it announced the birth of someone-else-I-don’t-know’s child.  Why do people feel the need to send these messages to everyone?  I realize that this is a very happy event, but where is the compassion for those who are struggling with infertility?  Does anyone actually think about other people before broadcasting this sort of news to the entire contract?

And now I sit here at work crying.  I HATE crying at work.  Not only do I look like a complete idiot, but it totally fucks up my makeup, too.  Dammit!

Seriously. What the fuck?

kthanksbye

It’s been a while since I searched the stats, and I was pleasantly surprised with the diversity of search critera that led readers to me.  So, without further chit-chat, he’s the top 10:

1. ladadeeda – Looks like people actually know the name of my blog and are searching for it.  To you 11 brilliant individuals, I say “right on!”
2. DUI, I went to prison – Sorry dude, but you’ll get no sympathy from me.  Don’t drink and drive.  EVER.  There is no excuse.
3. Baltimore Diabetes Blog – Am I the only one in this shit hole who blogs?  Not possible.
4. Fuck Type 1 Diabetes – Amen!
5. Who is to blame if you get a needle stick in hospital in Ireland? – I’m going to go out on a limb and say blame the fool who stuck you!
6. Incorrect grammar technical writing samples – Did my post help?
7. Minimed vs. Dexcom CGM – Obviously, you know my thoughts on this one.
8. Ken Negbenebor - ‘sup, Warden.
9. Type 1 diabetic international adoption – Good luck with that.  Oh, and please stop by and let me know if you’re successful.
10. ‘Cause I’m the wound and you’re the salt, it’s all my fault? – My personal favorite.  Not only does it rhyme; it’s also so poetic.

So, there you have ‘em.  I love reading how people arrive at my site.

Now, to my devoted lurkers.  I know who you are and *where* you are, so why don’t you stop by and say hello?  I won’t bite, and I’ve love to get to know you better.  So, to my friends in Evanston, IL, Vernon, TX, Springfield, MA, Alexandria, VA (you work at an interesting place, doncha!), Saco, ME, and Walnut Creek, CA, (and everyone else – there are tons more) I’m glad you stopped by!

Part of the reason I’ve been able to get through it all has been because I haven’t had to worry about work.  My boss, who has always been kind and supportive, allowed me to take the time for doctor’s appointments and to grieve for Lisa.  She was always someone who I felt like I could talk to.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not all take, take, take.  I have worked very hard to earn (I think) her trust and the freedom she gives me.  And she knows that I will do whatever it takes to get the job done. 

So, when I brought a continuing issue to her this morning, I expected her understanding.  I expected her empathy.  I expected her to hear me out.

What I got was a response that upset me a great deal.  Instead of understanding and empathy, I got condescension.  Instead of hearing me out, I was told, “I don’t see what the drama is?”  (There is something about using the word “drama” that drives me crazy – it implies diva-like behavior). 

I remained calm and tried to explain the situation better.  She continued to imply that I was being low and petty for even bringing it up.  To me, this problem is something that directly affects my job.  It is a big frustration, and one that could be easily fixed.

As soon as I got back to my desk, the tears began.  Am I crying because I’m angry?  Is it because I’m upset?  Is it because the smallest things seem to make me cry lately?  Probably all of the above. 

I know that my boss is going through a lot herself.  Maybe I caught her at a bad time.  I don’t know why she reacted this way, but for whatever reason, her reaction managed to shatter the composure I’ve worked so hard to maintain. 

Frankly, putting on a happy face every day is exhausting.  Trying to act like everything is fine is really taking its toll.  I spend so much energy just getting through the day that when someone I’ve come to trust and respect hurts me, I have no defenses left.

For 15+ years, I’ve been living in the Baltimore/DC area.  I first moved down to DC from my home State of Rhode Island (hi Kerri!).  I couldn’t wait to leave RI, having decided early on that if you didn’t get out young, you never got out. 

Sure, I went to college in Maine, but after, I was back in RI.  A good friend who had just graduated from Georgetown (in DC) suggested that we move there.  So we did.

Now, here it is, all these years later, and I’m still here.  I’ve moved from DC to Northern Virginia to Baltimore to my current home in the burbs. And I hate it. 

I used to love this area. But, in recent years, the overall attitude of this part of the country has gone downhill.  The people are rude, the traffic is insane, and the weather is sucking my will to live.  I need to move, and I need to do it soon!

I can’t remember the last time I went an entire 24 hours without encountering a rude person.  Sometimes, when I walk into a store, I get attitude just for breathing.  Other times, I’m ignored altogether.  I’ve written about my experiences with the staff at doctor’s offices and labs, and they’re just the tip of the iceburg. 

The worst part is the effect that these attitudes have on me.  I don’t like the person I’m turning into.  I’m not a rude person, but at the first hint of rudeness from anyone, I’m on the defensive.  And believe me, I can out-bitch the biggest bitches out there!  I’ve tried to make an effort to just ignore this behavior and not let it affect me.  I really have.  But, when these people impact my life, either by denying me a service that I need or by making a simple process difficult, I find it hard to ignore.

I KNOW that it’s not like this everywhere.  I have traveled to the Midwest for Brian’s races, and the people are kind and considerate.  You can even see it in the way they drive.  The use of turn signals is something everyone just does.  Here, people can’t be bothered with such a task.

Brian and I are lucky.  We have jobs that are in-demand just about everywhere.  We have some loose ends to tie up in the next few years, and we’re hoping for a more welcoming real-estate market in which to sell our house.  We’d like to be debt free (except for the mortgage).  We’d like to have a decent savings.

But if these things don’t happen, I’m still moving.  I would rather be poor and living amongst kind and considerate people than rich and living around assholes. 

I’m a good person, but if I don’t get out soon, I could easily go the other way.  And that scares me.

After years and years of waiting, wishing, hoping (and being subjected to the craving-inducing commercials), Baltimore is finally getting a Sonic! 

For 30+ years, I was happy to be ignorant of the awesomeness that is Sonic.  It wasn’t until I traveled with Brian to that hot vacation destination of Topeka, KS that I got my first taste.  From that moment on, I was hooked.

On Friday, I will join the masses for the grand opening.  I just might need a cooling fan for my pump.

But then you start to feel funny.  Sounds don’t sound right. The world doesn’t look right. And your brain is just not working right.

That’s when you finally decide to test.  And not long after seeing that 41 mg/dl, do the real symptoms arrive in earnest.  Sweating, shaking, dizziness, extreme hunger.  Do you get these symptoms because you finally know you’re low, or were they coming anyway? 

Damn, I hate lows.