Tuesday, April 23, 2013
"might as well drink water"
Oh, the faces made when a "skinny girl" asks for a diet drink at a company potluck.
temptation
I don't take mealtime insulin just yet, so the only way to avoid high blood sugars is to eat accordingly. This means limiting my carb intake; something that is easier said than done. Especially in the face of temptation.
Take this weekend: my family went out to dinner to celebrate my sister passing her mock-boards and deciding not to study any more, ever. <--just for the night, right, sis?
I ordered a crab cake, asparagus, and grilled veggies, and split rolls with my sister.
THEN the server tells us that it's free dessert night, and everyone gets a piece of cake!
FREE CAKE.
FREE CHOCOLATE FRICKIN FUDGE CAKE.
To box it up or to spike? That is the question.
PS. I split it, boxed half, AND spiked. The trifecta.
Another example:
This week is Medical Laboratory Professionals week.
This means that our vendors and pathologists provide meals for the lab during the week. (Or it means that your lab is cheap and lab employees provide their own potlucks.) <--our lab is 50/50 this year.
This morning was free breakfast. I take an early break. The only breakfast set up at that point was bagels, and like I said, we're cheap so I figured that would be it. I took half a bagel and also ate the canteloupe from home, but only because it was the last serving and I have to get this canteloupe out of my house.
No sooner do I finish my meal than a vendor shows up late, bearing chick-fil-a. Hash browns. Chicken biscuits. Smelling like all my wildest dreams.
Scratch that. My wildest dreams would smell like Channing Tatum's ab sweat.
Anyway, what is this bad timing? I would have foregone the bagel and thrown out the canteloupe to have a chicken biscuit. As it is, I certainly can't enjoy chick-fil-a ON TOP of my breakfast without a jog around the building...
Which may explain why there is a chick-fil-a chicken biscuit hiding in my locker :)
Take this weekend: my family went out to dinner to celebrate my sister passing her mock-boards and deciding not to study any more, ever. <--just for the night, right, sis?
I ordered a crab cake, asparagus, and grilled veggies, and split rolls with my sister.
THEN the server tells us that it's free dessert night, and everyone gets a piece of cake!
 |
| Free what? |
FREE CHOCOLATE FRICKIN FUDGE CAKE.
To box it up or to spike? That is the question.
PS. I split it, boxed half, AND spiked. The trifecta.
Another example:
This week is Medical Laboratory Professionals week.
 |
| My expectation of Lab Week. Hope springs eternal. |
This morning was free breakfast. I take an early break. The only breakfast set up at that point was bagels, and like I said, we're cheap so I figured that would be it. I took half a bagel and also ate the canteloupe from home, but only because it was the last serving and I have to get this canteloupe out of my house.
No sooner do I finish my meal than a vendor shows up late, bearing chick-fil-a. Hash browns. Chicken biscuits. Smelling like all my wildest dreams.
 |
| I can't bolus for this, so I'll enjoy it the only way I know how. |
Anyway, what is this bad timing? I would have foregone the bagel and thrown out the canteloupe to have a chicken biscuit. As it is, I certainly can't enjoy chick-fil-a ON TOP of my breakfast without a jog around the building...
Which may explain why there is a chick-fil-a chicken biscuit hiding in my locker :)
Monday, April 22, 2013
multiple choice
I've seen waaaay higher blood sugar readings over the past 4 days than I have in the past 2 months.
Am I...
...too liberal with my carb allowances?
...nearing the end of my honeymoon?
...PREGNANT?
PS. I'm not sick.
Am I...
...too liberal with my carb allowances?
...nearing the end of my honeymoon?
...PREGNANT?
PS. I'm not sick.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
on faith
Some days it hits me: my diabetes will never be easier than it is right now.
That's a scary thought. But the truth is, I'm still on a honeymoon. I only inject twice a day. I don't know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night ridiculously low, and I don't have a pump attached to me at all times. Heck, only 4% of the diabetes problems tumblr applies to me.
It's like I'm not even a "real" diabetic yet.
But I will be one day.
Our church started a new Sunday school class this winter for young adults. One of the get-to-know-you exercises was what our pastor/fearless leader referred to as "Quaker questions". <--great, now I want some oatmeal. They started off pretty basic, and then got a little deeper. One question was "when did you start seeing God at work in your daily life?"
Der. I mean, I grew up in church and have always taken God's presence for granted. I know He's always there; like the wind and yada yada. But when did I truly see Him?
The day I had antibody testing drawn to confirm that I was, in fact, a closet type 1 diabetic.
Until that day, I "believed" in God, I "trusted" God, I "had faith" in God. But I was always in control. Type A personality up in here. Planner. God was the back-up dancer. The Joey Fatone to my Justin Timberlake.
On that day, I walked into the draw station, waited for my name to be called to the chair, and started to pray about what .I. wanted.
You know, the kind of prayer where you say, "God, this is/isn't what I want, please make this happen/not happen and PS thanks in advance and I'll read my Bible every day and not cuss and stop watching Honey Boo Boo marathons".
Except those words didn't come.
Instead, His truth became so painfully, so gloriously clear:
He holds me in His hands. I am His. He created me, and He had already decided the answers that I sought. He had known for my whole 25 years what the results of those tests would be.
He knew that I would be diabetic. And in that moment of recognition, I knew I would be diabetic.
So I had my blood drawn and returned to work. And for the first time I could remember, I prayed for real, honest, unhesitating acceptance of His plan. For the understanding that His will, not mine, would be done.
When I finally saw the results (is it a HIPAA violation to check your own labs?), my prayer didn't change.
When my endo called with the news, my prayer didn't change.
When I obsess about the future, when I fear the unknown, when I feel like my pancreas is a ticking timebomb, my prayer doesn't change.
"Thy will be done". It's the hardest thing I've ever had to say, and yet the most liberating.
It's not a punishment. It's not even so much a challenge. It's an opportunity to acknowledge that God is with me in every situation. I will never be alone with diabetes, with Graves disease, with a crappy day at work or a crappy day at life.
So no, my diabetes will never be easier than it is right now. But it will never be in charge of me, either.
He will be.
That's a scary thought. But the truth is, I'm still on a honeymoon. I only inject twice a day. I don't know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night ridiculously low, and I don't have a pump attached to me at all times. Heck, only 4% of the diabetes problems tumblr applies to me.
It's like I'm not even a "real" diabetic yet.
But I will be one day.
Our church started a new Sunday school class this winter for young adults. One of the get-to-know-you exercises was what our pastor/fearless leader referred to as "Quaker questions". <--great, now I want some oatmeal. They started off pretty basic, and then got a little deeper. One question was "when did you start seeing God at work in your daily life?"
Der. I mean, I grew up in church and have always taken God's presence for granted. I know He's always there; like the wind and yada yada. But when did I truly see Him?
The day I had antibody testing drawn to confirm that I was, in fact, a closet type 1 diabetic.
Until that day, I "believed" in God, I "trusted" God, I "had faith" in God. But I was always in control. Type A personality up in here. Planner. God was the back-up dancer. The Joey Fatone to my Justin Timberlake.
On that day, I walked into the draw station, waited for my name to be called to the chair, and started to pray about what .I. wanted.
You know, the kind of prayer where you say, "God, this is/isn't what I want, please make this happen/not happen and PS thanks in advance and I'll read my Bible every day and not cuss and stop watching Honey Boo Boo marathons".
Except those words didn't come.
Instead, His truth became so painfully, so gloriously clear:
He holds me in His hands. I am His. He created me, and He had already decided the answers that I sought. He had known for my whole 25 years what the results of those tests would be.
He knew that I would be diabetic. And in that moment of recognition, I knew I would be diabetic.
So I had my blood drawn and returned to work. And for the first time I could remember, I prayed for real, honest, unhesitating acceptance of His plan. For the understanding that His will, not mine, would be done.
When I finally saw the results (is it a HIPAA violation to check your own labs?), my prayer didn't change.
When my endo called with the news, my prayer didn't change.
When I obsess about the future, when I fear the unknown, when I feel like my pancreas is a ticking timebomb, my prayer doesn't change.
"Thy will be done". It's the hardest thing I've ever had to say, and yet the most liberating.
It's not a punishment. It's not even so much a challenge. It's an opportunity to acknowledge that God is with me in every situation. I will never be alone with diabetes, with Graves disease, with a crappy day at work or a crappy day at life.
So no, my diabetes will never be easier than it is right now. But it will never be in charge of me, either.
He will be.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
taste the rainbow
So right now my thing for heading off a low is Skittles.
I mean, I could carry around glucose tabs, but rumor is they're nasty.
(As if I needed a reason to keep candy in my purse.)
The fun-size bags are a good serving for getting sugar up, and your jaw is only a liiiiitle sore when you're done.
However, my OCD becomes pretty obvious when I break into my emergency candy supply.
Eric insists that "Taste the Rainbow" = "the whole bag at once".
But that's NOT a rainbow! That's a rainblob! <-- what I imagine unicorn poop to look like.
I have to taste the rainbow one color at a time, starting with my least favorite. It goes:
purple
orange
yellow
green
red <--if red isn't your favorite Skittle, you're doing it wrong.
I could also eat them according to ROYGBIV, but that would be a little too weird. Who wants to think through the color spectrum in slow-mo?
I mean, I could carry around glucose tabs, but rumor is they're nasty.
(As if I needed a reason to keep candy in my purse.)
The fun-size bags are a good serving for getting sugar up, and your jaw is only a liiiiitle sore when you're done.
However, my OCD becomes pretty obvious when I break into my emergency candy supply.
Eric insists that "Taste the Rainbow" = "the whole bag at once".
But that's NOT a rainbow! That's a rainblob! <-- what I imagine unicorn poop to look like.
 |
| This shit is fabulous. |
purple
orange
yellow
green
red <--if red isn't your favorite Skittle, you're doing it wrong.
I could also eat them according to ROYGBIV, but that would be a little too weird. Who wants to think through the color spectrum in slow-mo?
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
revelation
Finding out that you don't have to change your lancet every time you test is hands down the best diabetes thing that's happened to me yet.
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