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By shannon, August 28, 2010 10:00 am

Thursday, as I sat in the waiting room of Dr. S.’s office, I started thinking about the day I was diagnosed with diabetes. 

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.

Comments (2)

By shannon, August 27, 2010 9:18 am

I’m still reeling from yesterday. 

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.

Comments (3)

By shannon, August 9, 2010 10:43 am

You know the one.  It starts as an initial twinge that something might be slightly “off.”  You ignore it and continue with your day.

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.

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By shannon, August 3, 2010 12:02 pm

I’ve had the honor of knowing Bob McCausland for a number of months.  He is a true gentleman and the driving force behind our ongoing efforts to see Roddy Pippin receive the fair and necessary treatment needed to survive.  Bob first met Roddy about four years ago during his Prison Entrepreneurship efforts.  If anyone would like to contact Bob or join us in raising awareness of Roddy’s situation, please send me an email (shannon at ladadeeda dot com).

“A Message to Roddy, and to the World”

Here in Texas, the good people in power are captive to the self-serving special interest crowd.  Others in power believe what they want to believe, and do not seek out facts – they will not challenge those who they know are lying, they look for the easy way out.  Texas Department of Criminal Justice and University of Texas Medical Branch have learned how to accommodate very, very well.

Of those in power, some are downright lazy.  Some steal government resources – resources of the people – resources that the people worked hard to achieve – so that they can have their own little comfortable retirements and talk big about how much power they once had, how they gamed the process and skirted the law, and what they did to that sick young kid while letting their friends and family get away with repeated offenses that were worse by far.  Their self-pride is a façade – it’s phony!  And they and the people around them know it! 

They play their little games because they can, and they collect their government checks labeled “paychecks” and “farm subsidies.”  But those are not just government checks.  Those are funds of the people.  That’s the work of others in their pockets – the hard-earned dollars of the poor and elderly, and of the single mothers, of the teens working their first summer jobs, and of the college students of every age struggling to make ends meet so that maybe they can have a better future.

Ultimately, the truth is on our side.  Our coalition has grown not just in numbers but in power.  This process of the evil, self-righteous, self-serving people in power manipulating those who would normally do what’s right with their lie-mongering, myth-creating deceptions must end.  Exposure is clearly the key, and we cannot forget that.  Document and expose is our charge.  We must – and will – give credit to those who deserve, for the future of our state – and our nation – relies on their successes.  Do not allow this to happen to others is a goal.  All of this has got to be our job, and it’s a big one.  The lies will catch up to the evil ones.  Good will triumph over evil.  The evil ones will someday meet their maker.  The bell shall toll for each.  For now it’s up to us.  We will not stop.  We will not go away.  We will grow in numbers and in strength.  And we may get beaten down and bloodied, but we will achieve successes for you, for others, for ourselves!

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!

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By shannon, May 27, 2010 9:36 am

Dear American Idol,

I’ve got to be honest; I’ve never liked you.  I saw part of an episode a few years ago that left me wondering what all the hype was about. Then, you started showing all of the “bad” auditions, which I’m not convinced aren’t staged.  I mean, seriously?  Are we supposed to believe that these people actually think they’re good?

I’ve shunned you for years because I think there’s more to music than a singer’s vocal range.  I can’t stand it when a so-called singer butchers a song in an effort to demonstrate his or her singing abilities.  The Star Spangled Banner is not an R&B song.  And, since this is the type of singer you most often attract, you really held no appeal for me.

Then, I heard about Crystal Bowersox.  See, like Crystal, I’m a type 1 diabetic.  I know how difficult it is to live (and succeed) with this disease, and I was curious about her.  My expectations were low; I admit it. But then I saw a few youtube clips of her performances, and I knew that she had something … that elusive originality.  She is a true talent.  And she’s even a single mom, too!

So, last week, when I heard that Crystal was one of the final two, I decided to watch the final episodes.  I watched her perform on Tuesday night, and I was floored.  This girl is the real deal, with talent oozing from every pore.  The other guy?  Lee? Yeah, he’s not bad.  But, he is not even in the same league as Crystal.

Last night, as I was packing for my trip to Florida, I left the TV on in the background.  I absently listened to the performances.

<side note> WTF was with changing the lyrics to Alanis Morissette’s You Outta Know?  Seriously, you really had to change it to “go down with you to the theater?” Really?  </side note>

I wasn’t even paying attention until the end.  And when you finally let pretty boy announce the winner, I was appalled.  Then I remembered that this is why I don’t watch you in the first place.  Your show is about who’s the cutest or the most popular (hmm, kinda like high school), not about who is the most talented.

So, I’ll not waste another minute on your absurdity.  You had a golden opportunity to redeem yourself in my eyes, and you failed miserably.

Sincerely,

Shannon

Comments (6)

By shannon, May 25, 2010 12:26 pm

I know my blogging has been sporadic, at best, lately.  Between everything going on with my sister, a gazillion doctor’s (and dentist) appointments, and all of the TTC craziness, I’m just all over the map.

Seriously, I have enough material to write three separate blogs – I just can’t seem to get any of it out of my head.

So, to my loyal readers (both of you), please bear with me!  I will be better; I promise.

Comments (4)

By shannon, May 13, 2010 9:00 am

Carbs.  They are the bane of my existence.  I love them, and I hate them.  More importantly, they love my hips and ass and hate my BG.

I’ve written before about my attempts at low-carb eating.  When I’m doing it, after the first few days of suck, I love the way I feel.  My BG control is wonderful, and I’m less hungry and more “even” than when eating a “balanced” diet. 

So, why don’t I stick to a low-carb diet all the time?  Because I have the willpower of a 2-year old.  I LOVE carbs, and I have a hard time resisting them.  Usually, I’ll be chugging along on a low-carb regimen for a month or so when I’m confronted with my own personal kryptonite:  birthday cake.  It’s always someone’s freaking birthday, and I cannot resist birthday cake.  It’s the flame to my moth; the one thing I just can’t resist. 

So, until someone comes up with a no-carb birthday cake that doesn’t taste like complete ass, I’m a carbivor.  Dammit.

Comments (9)

By shannon, May 11, 2010 9:00 am

Maybe I’m boring.  Maybe I’m disciplined.  Or maybe I’m just a big chicken shit.  Whatever the reason, the only thing I like to use to treat a low is juice.  It’s fast, predictable, and easy.  It doesn’t require me to chew, and they make them in these really nice little boxes that I can carry around everywhere.

As a backup, I carry glucose tabs.  I LOVED the BD brand, but they don’t make ‘em anymore.  So, I’ve converted to Dex 4′s Watermelon flavor.  They’re not bad.

I NEVER treat a low with any dessert item.  Desserts usually have lots of fat, which delays carb absorption.  When I’m low, the only thing I care about is getting back to normal, so anything that will make the process slower is out of the question. 

I have been known to inhale an entire bag of Sun Chips after drinking a juice box, though.

Comments (11)

By shannon, May 10, 2010 9:00 am

So, I decided to participate in Karen’s brilliant idea:  The First Annual Diabetes Blog Week .  All week, I’ll be blogging about the different aspects of my life with diabetes.  When I last checked, there were a TON of bloggers who are also participating, so when you’re done here, check them out.

Today’s topic is: A Day in the Life … With Diabetes

12:01am – 5:29am:  Sleep.

5:30am: Alarm.  Ugh.  I want to go back to sleep.  I decide to let Dexcom decide.  If my BG is in range, I’ll get up; if it’s not, I’ll correct and go back to sleep.  Dex shows a nice flat line with a BG of 87 mg/dl.  I decide that the agreement wasn’t in writing and, therefore, is not binding.  I roll over and go back to sleep.

6:08am:  Brian brings me a cup of coffee because he’s the greatest husband ever.  I slowly come to life.  I check my BG and confirm Dex’s assessment with a PDM reading of 92 mg/dl.  Thankful that my nighttime basals are spot on, I check my iPhone for email and Twitter updates.

6:18am:  I finally get up and stumble into the bathroom.  I brush my teeth, shower (thankful that I no longer have to suspend and disconnect a pump to do so), and get ready for work.  I peek at Dex a few times just to confirm that I’m not rising or dropping unexpectedly.

7:10am:  I do a quick finger test to confirm that it’s safe to drive – 102 mg/dl.  I hop (well, not really– it is still morning, after all) into the car and brave the Baltimore traffic.

7:45am: I arrive at work and unload my various d-tools that I’ll use throughout the day:  PDM, Dex, glucose tabs, iPhone, etc.

7:50am – 9:00am: I work. At staying awake.

9:00am: Prepare a bowl of oatmeal.  BG check is 100 mg/dl, so I inject 60mcg of Symlin and eat. 

9:10am: Finished eating, I bolus for the meal.

9:10 – 11:30am: Work.  Meetings.  More work. Bathroom break.

11:35am:  Dex shows that my breakfast bolus didn’t do its job.  I confirm with a finger stick and take 1.5U to correct.

12:30pm:  Lunch time!  Since I keep a mini fridge at work, I often have lunch stuff available.  Today, I decide to make a turkey and cheese sandwich with mustard.  Dex shows the correction dose finally dropping me to normal range. 

12:35pm:  I do a finger stick to check my BG: 112 mg/dl.  I dial up 60mcg of Symlin and eat my sandwich.  When I’m done, I program an extended bolus and get back to work.

1:10pm:  Feeling weird.  I hear Dex’s low alarm and, after a quick peek, I see that I’m dropping.  FAST.  Looks like the Symlin is working faster than the carbs are being absorbed.  SHIT!  I do a finger stick and look with almost disbelief at the 52 mg/dl staring back at me.  I have no idea what to do.  The Symlin will delay any fast acting glucose I take, so I won’t rebound quickly, AND I’ll be high later.  I decide to wait it out.

1:15pm:  WTF is taking so long?  I’m still hovering at 50 mg/dl.

1:20pm:  Sweating now?  Really? 

1:21pm:  Screw it.  I drink some juice and hope that it helps.

1:30pm:  Finally beginning to rise, I feel well enough to get back to work. 

2:38pm:  Dex HIGH alarm.  Son of a …!!!  Sure enough, finger stick shows 185 mg/dl.  Dex has one arrow straight up, so I know it’s not over.  I correct the 185 and continue working.

3:15pm:  Bathroom break.  Wash hands and test BG – 174 mg/dl.  Damnit!  Correct again.

3:45pm:  Pack up, test BG, and drive home.  Correction dose still not working, but I don’t want to rage bolus only to crash later.

4:15pm:  Home.  Aaaaaah.  I change clothes, go to the bathroom, pet animals, and clean up the kitchen.  I don’t even look at Dex because I’m tired and I just don’t care.

5:00pm:  Waiting for Brian to get home, I begin thinking about dinner.  I check Dex to see if carbs are even an option tonight.  Sure enough, I’m dropping again.  At least this time, it’s a gradual drop and not a jumping-off-a-cliff drop.  More like coasting, really. 

5:30pm:  Brian comes home.  We try to come up with a dinner plan.  “What do you want?”  “I don’t know.  What do YOU want?”  “I don’t know.”  This can go on for hours.

6:02pm:  Dex’s low alarm makes the dinner debate more important.  We decide to go out.  I grab a juice box, and we head out to the restaurant.

6:28pm:  We are seated.  The waitress brings bread (bitch!) and our drink order (iced tea, unsweetened).  After a few minutes, our salads arrive.  I test my BG with a finger stick – still too low for Symlin.  I begin eating the salad, which is soooo good.  I LOVE Carrabba’s Caesar salad. 

6:50pm:  Dinner arrives.  I ordered the Salmon with a pasta side, which I calculate to be about 45g carbs (for ½ of the serving).  I program a 30/70 dual-wave bolus for 2 hours – lots of fat in that lemon butter sauce – and dig in.

7:25pm:  Waitress clears plates and offers us dessert (bitch, again!).  We decline, pay the check, and go home.

7:56pm:  Home.  Again.  Aaaaah.  Dex shows two arrows straight up, so I know that the carbs are hitting me faster than I anticipated.  What to do?  If I attempt to head it off, I WILL go low later.  If not, I’m going to be spiking well above 250 mg/dl before it’s over.  I still don’t know what to do in these situations.  I wait.  I feed the cats and watch some TV with Bri.

9:30pm:  Dex has been bitching at me since we got home.  Since my extended bolus only finished a few minutes ago, I decide to wait a little longer.

10:00pm:  Bed time.  I wash my face, brush and Waterpik my teeth, apply zit cream (don’t even get me started on *that*), and put on PJs.  I grab a juice box from the fridge and put it next to the rest of my diabetes arsenal on my nightstand.  I check my BG with a finger stick – 213 mg/dl.  FUCK!  I take a correction bolus, turn off the lights, and go to sleep.

11:37pm:  Dex alarm – falling faster than 3mg/dl per minute.  Well duh!  I drink the juice box and hope that tomorrow is a better day.  But, I accept the knowledge that today was just another typical day in my diabetes life, and tomorrow is probably going to be similar.