Comments (5)

By shannon, August 25, 2010 9:26 am

I like change.  I’m one of those weird people who doesn’t like when things get too stagnant.  Change is good.  Right?

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!

Comments (10)

By shannon, June 15, 2010 9:48 am

I love my endo.  I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. 

Let me back up.  Yesterday, I had my usual quarterly appointment with Dr. S.  I was feeling fairly pessimistic about the results of my labs, and I was afraid he’d not be on board with the whole fertility thing (more on that later).

So, when the first words out of his mouth were “your labs look great,” I was relieved.  And, frankly, shocked.  After my last A1c disaster, I was expecting a decline, but certainly not as much as it really was. 

“Your A1c is 6.7%.” 

<side note> On the same day that I had my A1c done, I used one of those Bayer At-Home A1c kits.  The result from the Bayer test was 7.2%, which tells me that these at-home tests are not as accurate as we need them to be. </side note>

“Your kidney function is great, and your cholesterol is only slightly elevated.”  This is significant because I’ve been off of Lipitor for a few months.  “Overall, everything looks great.” 

Next, we reviewed my Dexcom reports (I always bring my netbook with me so that he can choose which reports he wants to see).  Other than some possible basal tweaking at bedtime, we agreed that my insulin usage is pretty good.  But, then we talked about my propensity for SWAGing.  He reiterated that I need to count carbs more accurately, which I’ve known for, well, ever.  “It’s just a discipline thing,” I told him.  Just like logging, measuring food and counting carbs accurately is a chore, but one that must be done.

He asked me if I thought I should see the CDE to get some carb counting lessons, and while I think I might need it, I told him that I wanted to wait until the next appointment to see if I’ve improved on my own.  He agreed.

Next, we started talking about the fertility craziness.  I told him that I was having an IUI done this cycle, and that, if all goes well, I’ll be pregnant the next time he sees me.  I told him about the disastrous appointment with the high-risk OB.  He actually offered to write a letter explaining that achieving a BG of 60-80 is a recipe for disaster for a T1.  He said that it often comes down to an education thing with other doctors – they assume that T1s are the same as T2s and gestational patients.  Obviously, they’re not. 

Then, he started talking about things like “what to do with my pump during delivery” and “my insulin needs increasing throughout the pregnancy.”  I joked that I’d wear my Omnipod AND Minimed pumps at the same time to handle the insulin needs.  He laughed, but started to think it was actually a novel idea.  It was so great that he not only gave me the green light to move forward with the IUI (not that he would have stopped me), but also that he was talking as if becoming pregnant was a foregone conclusion.  It suddenly felt very real.

Basically, he bottom-lined it for me: “You know what you need to do, Shannon.  You’ve got all the tools you need and the education to use them properly.”  He’s right, of course.  I do know what I need to do, and now that I’ve got a solid pre-conception A1c, I’m going to do it.  I feel oddly energized and optimistic about my D-life. 

So, he wants to see me in two months; sooner if the IUI works.  Although he’s booked solid through late August, he’s promised to squeeze me in if I get pregnant.  As I wrote above, I love my endo!

Comments (14)

By shannon, March 22, 2010 1:16 pm

You all know what’s been going on in our quest to have a child.  Today, I want to give up.  Seriously, I do.

I was told, when I met with the fertility doctor, to have a consultation with a high-risk OB.  I called my regular OB/GYN (Dr. H.) to see who she worked with.  After a lot of run-around, I found the high-risk practice at the same hospital as Dr. H.  Today, I had my consultation.

When I arrived at the office, the front desk person was rude.  Not just a little unfriendly – she was rude.  Not a good start – it immediately put me on edge.  But, I filled out the paperwork, as required.  The receptionist became even ruder (if that’s possible) when she asked me for Brian’s SSN.  I asked her why she needed it (I’m not giving out any SSNs unless there is a damn good reason).  She said that she wanted it for our insurance information.  I explained that the Member ID number is sufficient (truthfully, I probably wouldn’t have been such a hard ass about it if she’s just asked nicely).  Then, she told me that my copay was $30, payable by cash or check only.  This was not something anyone told me, and I only had credit cards (I don’t carry a checkbook around).  When I said that I only had plastic and that I wasn’t aware of the policy, she didn’t say anything.  NOTHING.  She didn’t even look at me.  Oookay.  I took a seat and waited for my turn.

After a while,  I was called to the back where I had the usual vitals done (BP, weight, urine, etc.).  Then, I was led to a small conference room where the nurse asked me the same questions that I’d just answered on the new patient paperwork (medical conditions, meds, allergies, etc.).  I dutifully answered her questions, and when she’d gotten it all, she told me the doctor would be right in.

A few moments later, the nurse returned and asked me who referred me.  When I explained that I wasn’t referred (I’m not pregnant, yet), I was told to get the consult by the fertility group, she said that I should have had records sent over before the appointment.  Getting more upset, I explained that (just as with the copay) no one had told me that I needed to have my records sent over.  She said that the doctor needs the records before she could talk with me.  WTF?  If I’d known that they needed these records for a consult, I would have made sure they had them.  But, no one told me.

The nurse left the room, but I wasn’t alone for long.  The office manager (I think) came into the room next.  She had a release form, which she needed me to fill out.  When I asked her who she was sending it to (one of the fields in the form), she asked me who has my records.  I explained that I have several doctors and, depending on what she needs, the information would come from different sources.  She said that she needs my “medical records.”  That’s it; no further clarification.  She was being pretty rude, too.  My guess was that the receptionist made some sort of comment about me, which led to a judgment on her part. 

That’s when I lost it.  Completely.  I asked her to stop speaking to me as if I were a four-year-old.  I told her that if one, single person had told me that I needed to have medical records sent over, I would have done so.  I told her that I was upset about the fact that without those records, the doctor felt it was pointless to meet with me.  Here I was, a living, breathing person with the ability to recall facts like my last A1c, BP readings, and other pertinent information.  But, without medical records, there was no point? 

Then I started to cry. 

If there is one thing I wish I could change about myself (well, there are tons, but this is a biggie), it would be my tendency to cry when I get angry.  I don’t really cry when I’m sad, but piss me off, and I become a blubbering fool.  This, of course, pisses me off even more because the last thing I want is any kind of sympathy from the person who made me angry in the first place. 

But, before I knew it, the doctor decided to grace me with her presence.  She came into the room, clipboard in hand, and asked me questions.  And miracle of miracles, I was able to give her the information she needed.  But, that’s where the good times ended.

As she went over each of my conditions, diabetes being the biggest obstacle, I began to feel less and less like a potential pregnant woman.  I felt like a complete and utter failure.  Straight off, she didn’t believe that I was a Type 1.  She asked if I had ever been tested for antibodies (yes) and was it positive or negative (positive, duh?).  She told me that what my endo told me about pregnancy BGs isn’t good enough.  She would want my fasting BGs between 60 and 80mg/dl, one hour post-prandials at less than 140mg/dl, and two-hour post prandial at less than 130mg/dl.  This seemed excessive to me and not at all what I’d learned from other pregnant T1s in the DOC.  There’s no way I could achieve that without having severe lows all the time.  She countered with (speaking as if trying to talk me down from a ledge), “we have pregnant diabetics with A1cs of 5% all the time.”  I wanted to say that maybe with T2s or gestational patients this is achievable, but with a T1, it’s just dangerous.  There was so much I wanted to say.  Instead, I cried.

I think the moment when I decided that I didn’t want to go through any of this anymore was when she told me about all of the potential birth defects and complications that can occur as a result of my diabetes, high BP, and “advanced maternal age.”   Why am I putting myself through this?  With every doctor’s appointment, all I feel is guilt, anger, self-loathing, and despair.  I am not enjoying anything about this process, and if this is what I have to look forward to, I’m not very optimistic.

When I think about Elizabeth’s good news, I’m very motivated to pursue adoption instead of putting myself through this again.

Comments (4)

By shannon, March 18, 2010 10:10 am

Last night, I tweeted this photo:

I wrote that I was afraid to say it out loud, but it looks like the Symlin is working.  I can’t remember the last time I went for 24 hours without a single high or low alarm (which are set for 180 and 70, respectively).  I usually spike up to the mid-200s after meals, even when I bolus early.

But, since using Symlin, I’ve managed to avoid those spikes, I’m taking less insulin, and I’ve lost three pounds.  I’m eating less food because it takes very little to fill me up, and what I do eat is better for me.

I know that there is probably a huge psychological element to this – I think I should be full, so I feel full, etc., but I can’t discount the physical stuff, either.  I can’t ignore the nausea that I feel after every meal – believe me, I’ve tried.  And I can’t deny what my eyes are seeing – fewer BG spikes after meals.

I’m up to 60mcg of Symlin before every meal, and my plan is to go all the way to 120mcg.  I even had Dr. S. call in the Rx for the 60/120 pens.  I figure that if I can’t tolerate 120mcg, at least I can still use the 60mcg setting (and get 2x the meds at the same copay).

So, if anyone out there is desperately trying to lower his or her A1c, experiences high BG spikes after meals, is becoming insulin resistant, or just wants to reduce the TDD of insulin, think about giving Symlin a try.  Yes, the side effect sucks.  I hate nausea more than most people, I think, but it’s worth it.

********UPDATE*********

Not long after writing this post, I was cursed with an inexplicable 237 mg/dl.  WTF?

Comments (7)

By shannon, March 10, 2010 9:41 am

As I expected, my A1c went up.  I just didn’t expect it to go up *that* much.  For almost two years, my A1c has been below 7%.  It’s a lot of work, but totally worth it.

I admit that I rebelled a bit.  I also got lazy.  I was just so tired of the tight control and limitations.  I went a little nuts.  I have the weight gain and lousy A1c to show for it. 

All other tests were good.  BP was “excellent” according to Dr. S.  He also said that I’d *lost* two pounds since my last appointment.  This just doesn’t seem right, but I wasn’t about to argue.  He gave me a list of group meetings and events (read: support groups) for Type 1s and encourage me to attend.  I don’t know if I will – I admit that it would be nice to meet some other Type 1s in person, though. 

As I mentioned yesterday, I wanted to talk to Dr. S. about Symlin.  After looking at my A1c, Dex graphs, and logbook, his initial feeling was to further increase my basals.  Since I had decided that I was not going to let that happen, I needed to find an alternative.  See, *I* think my basals are too high as it is.  The highs I’m experiencing aren’t the result of too-low basal settings; it’s because I’ve been eating like shit for months and, more often than not, SWAG bolusing.  So, I’m high because I didn’t count carbs correctly.  Sure, I correct, but once I’m high, it’s so hard to get back down. 

Which, once again, led me to the Symlin talk.  I’d tried it once before and gave up after a few days.  I was told that it is not indicated for pregnant women, and since we were actively trying at that point (and blissfully unaware of our fertility issues), I decided that it was best to stop.  To be honest, I was not heartbroken to lose the awful nausea that accompanied it.  But, the thing is, I never really gave it a chance. 

In preparation for my appointment, I did a bunch of research.  I learned that the nausea goes away pretty quickly and that the key is to stick with it.  I learned that some people have lost huge amounts of weight thanks to it.  I learned that most decrease their boluses by at least half.  All of these facts solidified my resolve to give it another shot.

So, just before dinner last night, I dialed up the minimum 15mcg and gave myself the shot.  I ate my meal slowly (I did notice that I got fuller faster) and waited.  I carefully calculated the carbs in what I ate (49 grams total), and programmed a 60-minute extended bolus.  And I waited. 

Sure, I felt a little nauseated, but nothing too extreme (I definitely didn’t feel like I was going to puke or anything).  I wasn’t hungry either, which was nice.  I often feel hungry even after eating a decent meal.  Dex showed almost no movement in my BG for over an hour.  Since I was super exhausted yesterday, I went to bed early. 

At 11:53pm, Dex beeped.  The dreaded low alarm.  I looked at the screen: 68 mg/dl.  Not too bad, but I did a finger stick to confirm:  66 mg/dl.  Since Dex indicated a downward trend, I decided to drink a juice box.  Then, I did something really stupid.  I programmed a temp basal of 50%.  I was spooked; I admit it.  I didn’t want to have a horrible low that would be difficult to treat because of the Symlin (I’d read that this happens).  I wanted to play it safe. 

Just as any sane person would expect, a few hours later, my BG started to climb.  Nothing drastic – I was sitting at 150ish.  Then my usual Dawn Phenomenon kicked in (I have a basal rate that is more than two times greater during the hours of 5am-8am).  A temp basal of 50% was not going to make a dent in that train wreck.  After my shower, I was sitting at 180 mg/dl and climbing. 

Since the pod was due for a change, I swapped it out and canceled that stupid temp basal.  Now, as I write this at 9:16am, I am at 189 mg/dl.  This is despite two decent correction boluses.  I know the crash is coming, and I’m ready for it.  I’m just pissed off at myself for giving in to the fear.  It’s the fear of lows that gives me a 7.5% A1c.  It’s unacceptable.

Ugh, diabetes, I hate you.

**UPDATE**

As I wrote this post, I got a call from the fertility doc’s office.  They wanted to tell me that they’d received a copy of my A1c (which the nurse described as “elevated”), and that for conception, they want it to be under 6%.  As if I didn’t already feel shitty enough.

Comments (4)

By shannon, March 9, 2010 10:28 am

There are a few things I want to write about today, but they’re not really interconnected.  So, I’m going to just jump from topic to topic.  Try to keep up

Today, I see Dr. S.  I’m not looking forward to getting my A1c because I know it’s going to be higher than last time.  I just hope it’s under 7% so that the baby progress can continue.  I’m strongly considering going back on Symlin.  I took it once before and had awful nausea, but I didn’t really give it a chance.  I stopped after a few days – mostly because we decided to start “actively trying to conceive,” which meant no Symlin.  Frankly, I wasn’t sorry to see it go. 

But now, I’m really trying to lose weight.  It’s my primary goal and I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle.  I’ve got HUGE genetic factors working against me.  On my father’s side, which is the side I take after, there is not a single person under 200lbs.  I’ve always had to fight my body’s natural inclination to be heavy, but now I need a little extra help. 

The other benefit of Symlin is that it will help to reduce those spikes I get after meals AND reduce my TDD.  So, if I can handle a couple of weeks of nausea, I think it would probably help me.  I’m not looking forward to a form of MDI again, but I’ll deal.

************************************************************************************

Next, I want to talk about Roddy Pippin.  We had some good news in our fight last week.  The Warden of the Jester III prison granted Roddy a few considerations:

1. He would be allowed to attend Sunday worship services – something he’s been denied since December.
2. He would have access to a telephone.
3. He would be allowed to change channels on the television in the infirmary (this one isn’t all that big of a deal since Roddy isn’t a TV watcher).

Unfortunately, these considerations were short-lived.  The prison P.A. said No more – “No more worship service for Pippin!  And no recreation, no law library, etc.”  The P.A. also said “Pippin is NOT allowed to leave the prison solitary confinement for the next 3 years and 8 months!”  This is not a disciplinary case issue.  So, we know that the prison P.A. is in cahoots with the D.A., but the question I have is this:  Does the P.A. have more power than the Warden?  Evidently, she does. 

There was a recent AP article done on Roddy.  While I initially liked the tone of the article, I don’t like what various publications did with it.  One, in particular, was the Dallas Morning News.  They created a headline that was not at all relevant to the article.  They did this to incite anger in their readers, and they succeeded.  I spent some time trying to respond to the nasty comments that followed the article, but most people were content believing a bunch of lies and exaggerations.  I’ve learned that it’s a losing battle with the press.  Unless/until the story breaks out of Texas journalism, it will never be told truthfully.

************************************************************************************

Last, I want to talk about the unbelievable liar my body is making me out to be.  I sat in Dr. T.’s office last week (ironically the day my period was due) and told her how “regular” I am.  Hell, I am more reliable than a calendar.  Until this month.  I am now officially one week late.  I’m not-so-patiently waiting to have all of these tests done, which are dependent on my period.  But my period is MIA.  It’s so frustrating.

Comments (9)

By shannon, March 4, 2010 11:50 am

The scene:  A lab

The players:  Me, Phlebotomist (herein referred to as “Moron”), and a Supervisor

The Time:  9:14am

As part of my recent fertility consultation, I was instructed to have a blood test to determine if I carried the gene for Cystic Fibrosis.  Since I am due for my regular A1c draw, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone (I hate that expression – who actually kills a bird with a stone?).

I walked into the lab, signed in, and sat down.  I always dread having blood drawn because I know that the inevitable battle will begin. 

<digression> Since my very first blood draw (that I can remember), I’d pass out.  Faint.  Hit-the-deck.  A few years ago, I had a very nice phlebotomist tell me that I have extremely small veins and that when having my blood drawn, I should always request a butterfly.  From that moment on, I never passed out again (as long as a butterfly is used).  I know some of you will think that this is a psychological problem, but I can prove that it’s not. 

Once, I requested a butterfly, and the phlebotomist agreed to use it.  Since I never watch the actual blood draw, I assumed that the prick I felt was the agreed-upon butterfly.  After a few seconds, I started to get that feeling.  The one where you see little black dots, begin sweating, and feeling very, very tired.  The next thing I knew, I was waking up on the floor.  She helped me back into the chair.  I apologized for fainting and said how strange it was because I NEVER faint when a butterfly is used.  She shrugged and turned away.

That’s when I saw it.  She didn’t use a butterfly.  When I asked her about it, she claimed to have “forgotten” that I requested one.  Bitch. </digression>

Anyway, back to today.

After 15 minutes, my name was finally called.  I handed moron the lab slips and my insurance card.  She instructed me to have a seat in Room 2 across the hall.  I did.  She came into the room and began entering all of the required information into her computer.  I waited.  Finally, she spoke:

Moron:  Oh, I see it was your birthday.  Happy belated birthday.

Me:  Thanks! (thinking this draw is going to be cake!  She’s actually nice)

Me:  As you can see, I’ve got two different lab slips from two different doctors.  Is it possible to send the results of my A1c to both doctors?

Moron:  (grabbing a clipboard with a release form) Sure.  You just have to sign this release, and we can send it to anyone.

Me:  Great, thanks.  I also have one more request.  When you draw my blood, can you please use a butterfly?  Otherwise, I’ll pass out.

Moron:  (looking at me like *I’m* a moron) I’ll need to look at your arm first because we don’t use butterflies on everyone.  What’s the big deal, anyway?  A needle is a needle.

Me:  Look, I’m not afraid of needles.  I’m a type 1 diabetic, so I’m pretty used to needles.  My issue is that my veins are really small, and with the bigger needle, the blood comes out too fast and causes my blood pressure to drop until I pass out.  Every time I’ve had my blood drawn here, they’ve used a butterfly.

Moron:  Well, I’ll have to look at your arms first. (indicating that she wasn’t going to use a butterfly unless hell froze over first)

Me: (really pissed off) Fine, but don’t be surprised when I pass out.

Moron spent the next 35 minutes trying to get the paperwork straightened out.  I repeated my original instructions that Dr. T. also gets a copy of my A1c.  Moron set up the paperwork to give Dr. S. the results of the CF screen.  Hence, the moniker, moron.

Finally, she wraps the rubber band around my arm and tells me to make a fist.  She pokes my veins to find her target.  Knowing what’s coming, I look away.  I felt the needle prick, and, at first, I felt ok.  I thought that maybe she’d listened to me and used a butterfly.  But, I started to feel that all-too-familiar sensation.  The last thing I heard was her clicking off the first vial and grabbing another. 

I came to on the floor.  Moron had called for backup.  They helped me back into the chair, gave me some juice, and waited.  After 10 minutes, Moron came back into the room with Supervisor. 

Supervisor: (taking one look at my arm) Her veins are tiny.  You should have used a butterfly on her.

Me:  I asked for a butterfly, but she refused.

Supervisor:  I’ll take it from here.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to get both vials before you passed out, so I’m going to have to prick you again.

Me:  You can prick me all day as long as you use a butterfly.  I wasn’t being a baby – this is just how it is. 

Supervisor: (after the blood draw was done) You’re all set.  You can wait here for a few minutes if you need to. 

Me:  (having already spent over an hour in the lab) I’m fine.  I really need to get to work.  I would appreciate it if you’d have a talk with moron about listening to patients.  This entire scenario could have been avoided if she’d just listened to me.

Supervisor:  I intend to.  We don’t like it when you faint any more than you do.

Me:  Thanks.

Comments (13)

By shannon, March 2, 2010 1:06 pm

Today is my birthday.  I don’t really feel older, but I am acutely aware that I am.  Today, I am 36 years old.  When my mother was 36, she had two (almost) grown daughters.  That’s some perspective I didn’t need this morning, but there it is.

I share my birthday with Dr. Suess, Jon Bon Jovi, Mikhail Gorbechev, Chris Martin, Daniel Craig, Karen Carpenter, and Reggie Bush. 

So, Brian and I spent most of the morning meeting with our new fertility doctor.  I admit to being a little (or a lot) overwhelmed by all of the information, but I’m optimistic.  I’ve got a full battery of tests ahead of me depending on when I get my next period (yes, guys, I’m talking menstruation – deal with it).  The good news is that I’m not really considered “past my peak” until I turn 37, so I’ve got one year left to get it done!

I have to find a high-risk OB, which is a little confusing because when I called my regular OB/GYN’s office (to find out which high-risk OB she prefers to work with), I was told that she handles high-risk patients herself.  However, I was also told that I would be “sent over to the diabetes center” at the hospital.  This sent some red flags waving, so I tried to clearly communicate that I am a Type 1 diabetic who sees an endo on a regular basis. Here’s the response I got:

“Oh, well, if you’ve already seen an endo, you probably won’t have to do the diabetes education class.”

Um, you think? 

I can’t stand it when people don’t listen.  Anyway, Dr. S. and I have talked extensively about how we’ll handle pregnancy, and I’m very comfortable with that.  I don’t want to throw another doctor into the mix when I’ll likely be seeing at least four of them on a regular basis.

Of course, I’d do just about anything to have a baby, so in the end, I’ll sit through whatever bullshit education for gestational diabetics they want me to.    

On a different note, last night, I spoke with Roddy’s good friend Bob.  Things are looking extremely grim at this point.  I’m becoming more scared with each day that goes by.  Roddy is suffering torture like I can’t even begin to imagine.  Please continue to keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

Comments (8)

By shannon, February 23, 2010 8:14 am

So, in a couple of weeks, I have my quarterly appointment with Dr. S.  For the first time in a while, I’m dreading this appointment.  I should be focusing on things like getting my blood drawn, having an excuse to get a pedicure, and figuring out what to wear.  Instead, I’m bombarded by images of what our appointment is going to look like.

I figure it will start with the not-so-good news that my A1c has gone up since last time.  I know this is going to happen.  Then, we’ll take a look at my Dexcom reports, which will clearly show how horribly I’m slacking.  Dr. S. will ask me what’s going on.  He won’t be critical, he’ll just want to know if there’s some reason for my shitty numbers and weight gain.  He’ll talk about basals and boluses, but that’s not the problem.  The problem is that I’ve been in such a funk that I really haven’t cared as much about diabetes.  My numbers aren’t crazy; they’re just not as good as they have been.

This is when I’ll probably lose it.  I’ll have to tell him that I really don’t feel the need or desire to work so hard since there’s zero chance of me getting pregnant accidentally.  I’ll say sure, put me on whatever meds you want (Symlin, Lisinopril, etc.) because it really doesn’t matter which pregnancy category they are.  And, I’ll cry.  I know I will.  I’ll probably make him very uncomfortable – he’s an endocrinologist not a psychiatrist, after all.  He’s also got two beautiful children.  So, I’ll sit there blubbering about the unfair hand Brian and I have been dealt. 

He’ll probably attempt to get the appointment back on track by moving on to the physical exam.  I’ll sit there like a good patient, breathing in and out on cue.  He’ll declare me “healthy,” and that will be that.  We’ll go back to his office where he’ll write prescriptions, talk about what I can do to improve, and schedule our next appointment. 

So, life goes on.  On the outside, nothing has changed.  I continue to breathe in and out on cue.

Comments (8)

By shannon, January 6, 2010 10:24 am

Last night, during a marathon Twitter session, I was chatting with Michael Hoskins, who writes The Corner Booth.  Our topic du jour:  “misconceptions that longtime T1s are the same as adult T1s.”

Since I’m an adult T1, I was intrigued by what these so-called misconceptions might be.  I mean, we all test (all the friggin time); we all take insulin; and we all think it sucks, right?

Sure, that’s all true, but there is so much more that goes into being a diabetic.  I began to think about my own diagnosis and how it was almost like the destruction of my entire world.  For my life (until then), I’d been able to live freely, eat what I wanted, and never give a thought to carbs and insulin.  I was totally ignorant of things like A1cs and ketones.  It was nice in my old world.  I handled my needle phobia with kid gloves (i.e., I never encountered a needle unless in a life-or-death situation).  I look back on my old world with fondness and longing.

I struggled with lots of different emotions after my diagnosis.  The biggest was fear.  But, not far off was the almost overwhelming weight of responsibility.  I had to learn so much about my new life, and I had to do it mostly alone.

So, when Michael made that Twitter comment last night, I immediately felt my back go up.  Was he implying that because I didn’t get diabetes while still in the single digits, I was somehow a lesser T1?  Did he mean that my struggles weren’t as bad (if not worse) than a child’s?  

I waited a few minutes and thought it through.  Knowing Michael from the D-Community, I knew that he wasn’t an “us vs. them” type of person.  He’d always been super-supportive of my blog.  So, my initial feelings of being offended faded away quickly.  Then, I became curious.  I asked Michael what he meant and what he considered “longtime” to be.  After all, it’s been 10 years since I got my bad news.

After some additional clarification, I went so far as to write that I feel like it is MORE difficult being diagnosed as an adult.  Aside from the fact that lots of diabetics diagnosed as children never remember their former lives, there’s also the fact that they’ve got 24-hour support from their parents.  The guidance and understanding (as well as some of the blame sharing) they receive makes for a better adjusted diabetic.  IMHO.

So, I don’t want to turn this into a “who’s the sickest” contest.  What I’d really like to read are some of your thoughts on this topic.  Do you think it’s easier to be diagnosed as a child or an adult?