tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50415584388083706602024-02-06T22:30:47.097-05:00InDpendenceSometimes Diabetes Takes Center StageBrileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.comBlogger201125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-28211622662664431172011-06-22T18:16:00.000-04:002011-06-22T18:16:36.315-04:00I Moved!I'm sad to leave my red and white polka dots, but really, I've been fed up! This morning I couldn't upload a picture, and that was it! So I got some help and I moved! So check me out over at <a href="http://inDpendence.com/">Wordpress</a>!!Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-62135449180408264622011-06-20T08:01:00.002-04:002011-06-20T08:01:50.401-04:00I'm ProtectedLast week I found <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/RachelsCBD">Rachel's</a> <a href="http://rachelscbd.com/">Cure By Design</a>. As I was looking through these beautiful bracelets, I wasn't finding any that I would use as a <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-need-to-get-new-medical-bracelet.html">medical bracelet.</a> But then I found a single charm. And I remembered the bracelet my aunt gave me years ago. So I decided to go for it. So now I'm medical bracelet covered :) And I couldn't be happier about the way it looks! <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytPgxOAXgzOUOMEg2vzTueDqhURirt7ob4JbfpxC4tmKLuB0XX9sjYRDPKbKP6up2GHUh-l4NzSSLbrs9GNHQXrUxxm42eR9HlTkU1BIom0BKFniaNRS3pXPj7gVN1j1gweCD0zgBuyg/s1600/DSCN3900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytPgxOAXgzOUOMEg2vzTueDqhURirt7ob4JbfpxC4tmKLuB0XX9sjYRDPKbKP6up2GHUh-l4NzSSLbrs9GNHQXrUxxm42eR9HlTkU1BIom0BKFniaNRS3pXPj7gVN1j1gweCD0zgBuyg/s320/DSCN3900.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Cod Bracelet</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFebN_UkVSL0X1RLxcYCdu0QnufaY8BaYtMc5dcEgzJgEMAI21FJ1HAlqWmuA8hz43sPqVWfS_QBoGCBobQnyXRyWEyAaMKeDDctp57UZO2oO_7spCAT9fuMwha7i_XpPRywUnhgCifls/s1600/DSCN3902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFebN_UkVSL0X1RLxcYCdu0QnufaY8BaYtMc5dcEgzJgEMAI21FJ1HAlqWmuA8hz43sPqVWfS_QBoGCBobQnyXRyWEyAaMKeDDctp57UZO2oO_7spCAT9fuMwha7i_XpPRywUnhgCifls/s320/DSCN3902.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medical Charm Side 1</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPO70zciHwbVr2OXYaFQ_Npea8ob2JoOB6Q6KBu_PU5bY_xsWgv1tiHlbfwEICC4CXoWf9J-NO_nekaYV09nJWYGwykmQYk1TD9qEe5xGAvy6Jp5R61OSnREcn1NAr9Qr5rZYAxqrpqE/s1600/DSCN3903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPO70zciHwbVr2OXYaFQ_Npea8ob2JoOB6Q6KBu_PU5bY_xsWgv1tiHlbfwEICC4CXoWf9J-NO_nekaYV09nJWYGwykmQYk1TD9qEe5xGAvy6Jp5R61OSnREcn1NAr9Qr5rZYAxqrpqE/s320/DSCN3903.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medical Charm Side 2</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFlZzBqybCjt8cs8FzhirA60zqiyFvmViFkeiGq9WcLgQzb7lNqnCLANtO691zQxTK5jN5q0TUk3mkwI7f6sJimLOJXFEGa8vHBBwQsjuTSxaz5hAAiiukD-Yr9yoGPaSivUDsjXSUBM/s1600/DSCN3904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFlZzBqybCjt8cs8FzhirA60zqiyFvmViFkeiGq9WcLgQzb7lNqnCLANtO691zQxTK5jN5q0TUk3mkwI7f6sJimLOJXFEGa8vHBBwQsjuTSxaz5hAAiiukD-Yr9yoGPaSivUDsjXSUBM/s320/DSCN3904.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All Together</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipORdsuy7afnw03pXDDH0XCLtrq2-0JLxGjhB_O1nI96WvG7ZkgV3HrWP8b-wNRiv0HTpzA4xw86eqxibRbzVjbD6XLmBo5DGxXaDNfB3F6NqhOVljYXCPuBVcH30-vSS2i-ptCCh1S2k/s1600/DSCN3910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipORdsuy7afnw03pXDDH0XCLtrq2-0JLxGjhB_O1nI96WvG7ZkgV3HrWP8b-wNRiv0HTpzA4xw86eqxibRbzVjbD6XLmBo5DGxXaDNfB3F6NqhOVljYXCPuBVcH30-vSS2i-ptCCh1S2k/s320/DSCN3910.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm Protected :)</td></tr>
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<div>I also got an adorable thank you note from Rachel with my purchase and I do think her bracelets are beautiful. I am not obliged by any means to write about my purchase, but I think you should all go check her out!<br />
<div></div></div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-41931396861314547122011-06-17T07:05:00.001-04:002011-06-17T07:05:00.841-04:00RepercussionsRemember that <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/06/low-lower-than-my-age.html">scary low</a> I told you about?<br />
<br />
Well, it's still messing with my head. I go through my days fearing numbers which are admittedly perfect (between 100-110). Because lower than that, and I'm in double digits. 90s. Scary. 80s. Even Scarier. 70s. Give me that juice! 60s. Give me juice, get me a chair and don't talk to me! I don't think I've been lower than that, and that's good because where else can I go from there. So I admittedly have been running a little high this week, but mostly in the 140s range, which is not horrible. Over-treating lows? Absolutely. And that's just during the day. When I get home at night, I make dinner and eat dinner and I hang out, whether talking to friends or not, and trying to get up the courage to record my <a href="http://textingmypancreas.com/p/you-can-do-this-project.html">You Can Do This</a> video. Instead I watch others, (<a href="http://sixuntilme.com/blog2/2011/06/you_can_do_this_my_video.html">and this one over and over</a>) and try to ignore the head games that diabetes is playing with me. And then I try to go to bed. And I sit on my couch scared to walk into my bedroom. My bedroom is cozy, cool and comforting and diabetes has made it scary. I don't want to go to sleep at night. I read and play Angry Birds so that I literally can't keep my eyes open anymore. Only then am I able to go to sleep. Living alone and being alone? It's scary right now. That's what 23 does to a person! <br />
<br />
I want diabetes to leave me alone. I know that in time I will be comfortable again, and I'll go to sleep at decent times and I won't lack patience anymore, and I won't need to survive on a caffeine drip because of the lack of sleep because of the fear. I know that day will come. But here, this week? Not a chance.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-41336211688546819302011-06-16T07:09:00.001-04:002011-06-16T07:09:00.615-04:00Never Thought I'd Say ThatThis past weekend I went home for my cousin's high school graduation party. It was your typical graduation cookout, besides the fact that it was rainy and raw outside. There were family and friends and grandparents and small children. And as I stood around the counter in the kitchen with my aunts, mother, and a few other women, one of them said "The last time I saw you you were three or four years old." (No wonder why I had no idea who she was.) "It was at your uncle's house on the river and you were throwing up everywhere." My response: "The last time you saw me was <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/02/guest-post-d-day.html">THE</a> day?"<br />
<br />
Diabetes has always been a big part of my life, but I'm much more comfortable talking about since I started this blog. And to meet someone who last saw me on my D-day. Well that's pretty damn cool.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-82733445492108571972011-06-15T07:07:00.002-04:002011-06-15T07:07:00.487-04:00Car Door<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisF0vrz6tbG1SkuI8l3o8LXric4FabZoJ5w-ED6ZKv9xyDbVnnHZczT8XRFiaHEToC6GLb_3pQHUDueDHyJN-cPMiqJx_J1_7cv-j2Q_QW5hfpmZWgv2kiCyFxm-KFvQPvjQWEqA8exc8/s1600/IMG_20110614_153536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisF0vrz6tbG1SkuI8l3o8LXric4FabZoJ5w-ED6ZKv9xyDbVnnHZczT8XRFiaHEToC6GLb_3pQHUDueDHyJN-cPMiqJx_J1_7cv-j2Q_QW5hfpmZWgv2kiCyFxm-KFvQPvjQWEqA8exc8/s320/IMG_20110614_153536.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-89938232585323413832011-06-14T08:41:00.000-04:002011-06-14T08:41:19.895-04:00Taking a Trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_L2J8Z4gRt5jZ0dpMmDg0qWw_4oeb_ryCEO6k4DXRAXLj3nhwIumBjwGuKzg4SLN8KzmDjHBbGwFdaHunWkLXrrTqUslhechfsQr8rQS6LanK4wov0GwdyqS_8UDcwOYZ-97o7zraj-I/s1600/DSCN3837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_L2J8Z4gRt5jZ0dpMmDg0qWw_4oeb_ryCEO6k4DXRAXLj3nhwIumBjwGuKzg4SLN8KzmDjHBbGwFdaHunWkLXrrTqUslhechfsQr8rQS6LanK4wov0GwdyqS_8UDcwOYZ-97o7zraj-I/s320/DSCN3837.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Today I'm writing over at my (real life!) friend's place, <a href="http://withasideofinsulin.com/">with a side of insulin</a>. While she's had this fabulous idea of getting a bunch of DOC-ers to write about traveling, I'm writing to you about my experience in getting on the plane in order to see her. So please head on over, and <a href="http://withasideofinsulin.blogspot.com/2011/06/guest-blogger-briley.html">enjoy my story</a>.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-9533964391023447562011-06-13T11:00:00.000-04:002011-06-13T11:00:29.549-04:00A Low lower than my AgeI had a post planned for today, until I woke up at 1AM, tested my blood sugar and it was 23 mg/dL. I believe that this is officially my lowest BG. I was laying there in my bed feeling as though I hadn't fallen asleep yet. If I'm really tired and still can't fall asleep, it tends to be because my blood sugar is low. So I rolled over and tested. And I saw 23. I didn't know how I had dropped from 218 in such a short time (I didn't look at the clock before I tested), but my thought process was "okay, grab a juice box." So I did. I grabbed one juice box, gulped that, tried to play basketball with the box and my trash can, then laid back down. I left the light on so that I would know I needed to test again. I never fell back asleep, but I kind of re-awoke realizing I was way too hot and sweaty for the temperature it was supposed to be outside. I rolled over again and then I was 34 mg/dL at 1:15. That is when I went into panic mode. I grabbed a juice box, then 4 glucose tabs, then justifying that I needed two more. I didn't want another juice box, but I also didn't want the chalky taste in my mouth anymore. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed my dried strawberries. And I chomped on those until they were almost all gone and I thought I would be too high if I finished the whole container (I think there might be 5 left in there). I laid back down and thought of everything bad that could possibly happen. I thought of calling my parents to tell them that I was okay, and then realized that would just send them into even more of a panic getting that call at 1AM. I left the light on again because I needed to test. I think I grabbed my nook and played Angry Birds. Then a half hour later tested and I was 132. But I was so damn scared that I kept waking up every few hours. And this is the day I got to go into work a little later and therefore grab a little extra sleep. I was 196 this morning, so I should've been capable of functioning, but I wasn't. I sat in my bed for quite a while, and then with 15 minutes left before I needed to leave, realized I should get dressed.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-46533798774669772652011-06-10T07:00:00.001-04:002011-06-10T07:00:07.572-04:00Rebelbetes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXgq0RBmuCyyIrXQY3NYHoAQ6UcaNGQkMX0aeT5xB7AzixRl1nB9T_kx6g3pWlC8poEgSyaXPO-1n10Y9Dh8HARtPlfFJ9jfj4-MjEhLT8-tljO262j-Vumwys4YBroGlgv_m2uvKV-Q/s1600/DSCN2288_5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXgq0RBmuCyyIrXQY3NYHoAQ6UcaNGQkMX0aeT5xB7AzixRl1nB9T_kx6g3pWlC8poEgSyaXPO-1n10Y9Dh8HARtPlfFJ9jfj4-MjEhLT8-tljO262j-Vumwys4YBroGlgv_m2uvKV-Q/s320/DSCN2288_5.JPG" width="261" /></a></div>I have this friend, who I've written about <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/saturday-snapshots.html">before</a>, who inspired me to <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2010/09/ive-been-inspired.html">start this blog</a> (without really knowing it) and who I've been trying to get to guest post here for quite a while. <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/02/dsma-february-blog-carnival-part-two.html">(She's the one who convinced me to run 10 miles too,)</a> She just graduated college though, and I always said "when you have time." Well now she has time. Enough time even, to start her own blog. She recently joined <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/melkauffman22">twitter</a>, tries to get to #dsma chats if I text her early enough, and now she's jumping in with both feet to the blog arena. <a href="http://rebelbetes.wordpress.com/">Head on over and welcome her</a>!Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-42087456873478448832011-06-09T07:30:00.001-04:002011-06-09T07:30:01.188-04:00How to Bolus<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3k02U5gMOum1mTkw5cJz6PMnoyWIb1wkivbpHYygdgDB7zQ9Bi3nyxSjnLKpbZnVLRZ_hfj747oaRSnHLBkFiOjhHrED5H_KqJBcvLi_Ob2plXrX_kskHLOsUXMuY6m4hnbTGIefUHY/s1600/ice_cream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3k02U5gMOum1mTkw5cJz6PMnoyWIb1wkivbpHYygdgDB7zQ9Bi3nyxSjnLKpbZnVLRZ_hfj747oaRSnHLBkFiOjhHrED5H_KqJBcvLi_Ob2plXrX_kskHLOsUXMuY6m4hnbTGIefUHY/s320/ice_cream.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1stclasswallpapers.com/">Found</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The other night I went out to dinner with Girl Genius, Boy Genius and Mom Genius after the ballet recital. After I look at the menu (and decide that I'll be getting a salad and ice cream) I test and bolus for my BG. We're in the middle of a heat wave here, so I was in a sundress and therefore the pump was hidden. This new handy meter-remote came in handy. As I was bolusing, Mom Genius asked what I programming. I explained how it saves everything, but I'm actually bolusing since my pump is under my dress. And then we hear "Well that's okay. You can lift up your dress to bolus." Mom Genius and I both look down at Girl Genius wondering if she really just said that, and so I said "It isn't appropriate for adults to lift up their dresses, especially in restaurants." And then we went back to discussing ice cream. Even though every time I think back on it, I 1. laugh and 2. love her innocence.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-88148178278241510522011-06-08T07:09:00.000-04:002011-06-08T07:09:00.672-04:00A DOC favorite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXDbj33eDh1ndksngZv-9x7byl6iOxP67B4xzSmPPrCfDnBfVuyXhNDo0tiGSENieUvt_b0VDHDQsuWnrNcADg-X-Dtm83sMBTm_xYV_1XJN1du4e47ZKriwmx3eJ1X5PcrVSs0rJfReE/s1600/IMG_20110526_180536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXDbj33eDh1ndksngZv-9x7byl6iOxP67B4xzSmPPrCfDnBfVuyXhNDo0tiGSENieUvt_b0VDHDQsuWnrNcADg-X-Dtm83sMBTm_xYV_1XJN1du4e47ZKriwmx3eJ1X5PcrVSs0rJfReE/s320/IMG_20110526_180536.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-70453110090639598442011-06-07T07:05:00.002-04:002011-06-07T07:05:00.236-04:00A Letter to the People on the Sidewalk<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzTck9I9u4I_tgC0cV7wPAvSq36DD7EMF8kGDnibbWgVSYt-NxY35D3DcDPi-3FLzhg8EoFfEjjA5WAuoJ8yNnbAu8YRQas1vjfbKCnohxELUx7yNgCl-uaJu-Ve_kHaYE0cBw4zPnkI/s1600/Photo+86.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzTck9I9u4I_tgC0cV7wPAvSq36DD7EMF8kGDnibbWgVSYt-NxY35D3DcDPi-3FLzhg8EoFfEjjA5WAuoJ8yNnbAu8YRQas1vjfbKCnohxELUx7yNgCl-uaJu-Ve_kHaYE0cBw4zPnkI/s320/Photo+86.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, I'm not pointing at my cleavage</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div>Last night after work I headed out for a run. When it comes to diabetes and running, I'm a minimalist. I bring glucose and that's it. Those arrows in the picture, that is my glucose. (And that is me immediately post run.) And here is my letter to the people I saw out there last night. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Hello other runners, walkers, cyclists and citizens, </div><div> First of all, take the time to look up from your cell phone when the sidewalk is narrow. I'd hate to swat that out of your hand by accident. Secondly, I realize that my shirt is probably riding up and you can see my belly and no, I'm not doing this on purpose, but it's flipping hot outside so I'm not wearing sleeves. Also, I don't look like the other runners out here, but I'm out here, so give me a break. Most importantly. STOP STARING AT MY BOOBS! They look teeny in a sports bra, so I know you're not actually staring at them. You're staring at the white thing bouncing up and down in there. Guess what! It goes with the pink thing bouncing up and down on my hip. And yes, it's making that skin even more red because I had to open it beforehand so the wrapper is jagged and irritating. But it's better than getting stuck out there low. What's low you ask? Low is when I exercise and my blood sugar goes low and I could pass out. So yea, the irritating wrapper, I'll deal with that. But keep your eyes to yourself (except for you, toddler, you were adorable, and you were just being held at that height, it's not your fault)! I would like to not take it with me, but that would be foolish and irresponsible. I went through those days and I'm not going back. I don't stare at your arms where your ipod is, or your head where your helmet is, so leave my freaking boobs alone!</div><div>Thanks, </div><div>Your T1 Neighborhood Runner<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
</div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-53367810530114781232011-06-06T06:48:00.000-04:002011-06-06T06:48:06.929-04:00Climbing UpI went out to meet a new group of people and enjoy rock climbing in the process. If you know me, you would say "Wait, didn't you try rock climbing when you were 12 and hate it?" And my answer would be yes. But, that's a long time ago so I decided to try it again. I checked out the website and it said a lot of people use it as an alternative to a traditional gym. So I had to figure out the best way for me to D. But I also had to account for the stress of dealing with my fear of heights and the stress of meeting an entirely new group of people. And I had been dealing with what seemed like consistent yet unpredictable lows. And I didn't want a low to sideline me. I decided to reduce my basal rate down to 75%. The good news is I never went low. But I did consistently climb. (And I'm not talking about up the wall.) I don't like watching my numbers go up, but I honestly think it was more related to stress rather than not enough insulin. <br />
<br />
When I was putting on my harness, I tried to wrap my pump in my t-shirt, but nothing stays exactly where it starts. As I was climbing up in the beginning, my pump started swinging. The woman belaying me told me my camera had come loose and did I want to throw it down to her? I explained how I can't because it's an insulin pump. I hadn't really wanted to, but sometimes you just have to tell people about diabetes. And it worked in my favor because any time they noticed the rope was near my pump, they would alert me and I was able to slide my pump to a different spot on my waistband. It was good to be aware.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-8540403139900497142011-06-03T14:33:00.000-04:002011-06-03T14:33:32.040-04:00Work with No DAll week Girl Genius has been talking about graduation tomorrow. The four year old munchkin (which I like to call her, but she says "that's for tiny kids!"), is starting Kindergarten in September. I can remember my own Kindergarten graduation, and I remember memorizing a poem to recite, but I was 5, it's not THAT big of a deal. Except that when I drove up to her school this morning, the tents were out, and all the extra hands were on deck and this wave of memory came crashing down. And I just want to pick her up and squeeze her! I can remember meeting her in October 2009 when she said "I'm three, and I still suck my thumb, see!" And when I babysat the next month and ended up at Boston College instead of her preschool. And she didn't say a word the whole car ride! (Crazy!) As I drove away this morning I had tears in my eyes. I know that I'm an emotional person, and that I cry at the drop of a hat, and that I get really attached to people, but I didn't think I would feel this! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVl9QZtEsFh2zo1lfPEmozqIhdTmHWsZ60vnVuHBjhEYgWLsOfxPsdwH5olotz1AgPcOfdana0NeROUy1P4rWgr7VqdgrP0aw7haO-mqblSXDVqTSAQGHDpG5jjMQYk3AhZXApkobhL7Y/s1600/IMG_20110513_082811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVl9QZtEsFh2zo1lfPEmozqIhdTmHWsZ60vnVuHBjhEYgWLsOfxPsdwH5olotz1AgPcOfdana0NeROUy1P4rWgr7VqdgrP0aw7haO-mqblSXDVqTSAQGHDpG5jjMQYk3AhZXApkobhL7Y/s320/IMG_20110513_082811.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Congrats Munchkin! You're amazing :)</div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-23890599875758091242011-06-02T07:12:00.002-04:002011-06-02T07:12:00.378-04:00More LowLike I mentioned the other day, I've been going low, a lot. My basals are down. My ISF has changed from 1:35 to 1:40. And my correction factors have changed. And I'm still going low. And I'm scared to bolus. Yesterday afternoon I forgot to bolus for my snack. You know how high I ended up? 217. I should've been in the 300s. I've been so focused on not going low, that my functionality as a blogger is severely lacking. So excuse the brief post, but hopefully this low-ness will be fixed soon.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it." Margaret Thatcher</b></div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-46138091461694144612011-06-01T07:01:00.000-04:002011-06-01T07:01:03.184-04:00Summer Lunch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8PIwSYMMJ8Kl2r46wVBJGuxaCTASpWsD3JoHYcFRpKshHCheVK7xt6DMedMkw2qWGyc-TJCTdwLzuVOCO_WxVcMjkS3VDmCwl1DeVOLRzbjdfQjrHYxwljbuVtUpPDJr79p5Msl0t_I/s1600/IMG_20110523_121433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8PIwSYMMJ8Kl2r46wVBJGuxaCTASpWsD3JoHYcFRpKshHCheVK7xt6DMedMkw2qWGyc-TJCTdwLzuVOCO_WxVcMjkS3VDmCwl1DeVOLRzbjdfQjrHYxwljbuVtUpPDJr79p5Msl0t_I/s320/IMG_20110523_121433.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-43030078923483585672011-05-31T09:55:00.000-04:002011-05-31T09:55:17.118-04:00Irrationally RationalI went home for Memorial Day weekend. It's just so much easier to deal with the heat in lots of space (and at the neighbor's pool.) My original plan was to have an early dinner with my parents and then head back to my apartment right after. Those plans changed when I went to a baseball game and cookout with my friend (which was awesome!) I drove back to my parents about an hour after I wanted to leave to go back to Boston. Before the cookout, I was 302 mg/dL. So when I got all my stuff together to leave, I wasn't thinking that my BG would affect me. But there it was, a 55 mg/dL staring at me. And then 20 minutes later, 50 mg/dL. I suspended my pump, and then 56 mg/dL and then when I was 59 mg/dL, my temper flared. My father told me I didn't need to get upset about it (but I clearly was). And this is where I became irrationally rational. I yelled back "Well I should! Because if I get mad I'll get stressed out and stress raises your blood sugar and nothing else is working!"And twenty minutes later, I was 81 mg/dL.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-44251725651540746662011-05-27T09:24:00.000-04:002011-05-27T09:24:47.729-04:00Low, Low and More LowThe weather here has gone from raw, rainy and cold to summer. And with this, my BGs have gone from roller coaster, to low.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBm_7S1zupo2ITD2UXpr1DevpvqSVpIyGHqp2AoUZobraMUGmrOlAAcSAIojmGq6Y_ttS9NypU58SbyMhOM6jWdPrwzmKJB4w2DaYuPzkEM5pzi_CVH8AiMq-2Xz3IcqMF9Te4W54x7Ok/s1600/starbucks-frappuccino.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBm_7S1zupo2ITD2UXpr1DevpvqSVpIyGHqp2AoUZobraMUGmrOlAAcSAIojmGq6Y_ttS9NypU58SbyMhOM6jWdPrwzmKJB4w2DaYuPzkEM5pzi_CVH8AiMq-2Xz3IcqMF9Te4W54x7Ok/s200/starbucks-frappuccino.jpeg" width="182" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://simoneysavers.com/">Found</a> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Yesterday at Girl Genius's gymnastics, I felt a little low, and there was a 45 mg/dL staring me back in the face. Two days ago, I was about to complain that Trader Joe's didn't have 4 oz juice boxes until the 6 oz didn't raise me.<br />
And two days ago I was low so frequently that I couldn't run or go to the gym, but I did do an at home workout, which kicked my a$$. <br />
Yesterday after gymnastics, when I stopped to buy test strips, I got a frappucino too. I bolused for half of it. And then forgot to bolus for my yogurt. And the highest I went? 204 mg/dL. <br />
<br />
This is the thing though. I know that I need to lower my basals. But it's hard to do a basal test when you're eating all the time. And I've been eating fruit and fruit and, ... more fruit. Also, the times that I've been going low from day to day are not consistent! Makes it a lot harder to even figure out where to start. I'll get there. Until then, I'll keep my juice boxes and my tabs and my liquid glucose a lot closer.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-32265619494293428342011-05-25T07:10:00.004-04:002011-05-25T07:10:00.341-04:00French Deliciousness<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9doVlm8ztyNZ41dsUYYf8ysTxxnHzfpjWppJqR6K0xkeq3NgjQsUFTZXxRy4YMbB2GjjXa9xnKPgjAOG63Cxvc4n98mde7Fb7KCWQ3TXoIhxi8qVbwiOv97IoMPuyftD85cZkUfGajw/s1600/IMG_20110522_211512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9doVlm8ztyNZ41dsUYYf8ysTxxnHzfpjWppJqR6K0xkeq3NgjQsUFTZXxRy4YMbB2GjjXa9xnKPgjAOG63Cxvc4n98mde7Fb7KCWQ3TXoIhxi8qVbwiOv97IoMPuyftD85cZkUfGajw/s320/IMG_20110522_211512.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were no nutrition facts, but these are magical on the BGs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-82042421931671041442011-05-24T07:02:00.000-04:002011-05-24T07:02:00.089-04:00Unicorns! Glitter! And a little bit of Ohh..<a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/d-appointment.html">Wednesday</a> was one of those days when diabetes was all about unicorns and glitter, and I've been smiling ever since. Except then I remember the news that my awesome nurse is leaving. <br />
<br />
I haven't been with her <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2010/11/first-day-at-joslin.html">very long</a>, but I was looking forward to many more years. I realize that through my blog it may not seem as though I'm shy, but I am. I trip over my words and I get uncomfortable talking to new people. And I've never felt this way with her. And I've never had to say "I think there's something wrong with me." (with any medical professional) (And I almost didn't) But I didn't feel uncomfortable at any time during this appointment. I walk in there and I feel comfortable. And when things are going <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/01/im-going-to-let-pictures-do-talking.html">really wrong</a>, she has been there to support me. She helped me figure out that my body is much more sensitive to insulin when my blood sugar is extra high, so when I figure out a bolus over 350 mg/dL, I reduce it by 10% before bolusing. And it works! I know that there is a lot of talk out there in the DOC that we are awesome and medical teams don't always know what they're talking about, but I never would've figured this out without her. Before I made my final decision about switching my pump, I called her to hear what she had to say. I knew I didn't need her approval, but I wanted to know what she thought. I value her opinion. <br />
<br />
I am sad to see her go. I am sure that wherever she is off to next will be fabulous and wonderful and I hope that wherever that may be, they will appreciate her. In the excitement that was finding out my A1C, she told me that my hard work made her day. I know that she "lives" in diabetes world, and diabetes world is awesome. But from what I can tell, she doesn't have diabetes and is still awesome and still gets it. (for you non-D, non-medical people, you'd think that this happens all the time, but it doesn't!). When I told twitter, I got more responses than I even could've imagined. And it made me feel so good. And when I told facebook, all my D friends liked it (or parents of D friends), but no one else did. <br />
<br />
And once again, my words are coming out of my brain and they aren't making any sense. That's what happens when people mean more than words can say. <br />
Forgive my lack of words. But I'm changing the wording:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>"An awesome diabetes medical professional is worth a </b><s><b>thousand</b></s><b> million words."</b></div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-51608410596528895312011-05-23T10:32:00.000-04:002011-05-23T10:32:16.970-04:00We're EverywhereFriday night I headed out to see the girls compete in the regional synchronized swimming meet. Competition started around 4, and I didn't show up until about 7. During one of the routines, Mom pointed out a little girl who has diabetes. I've heard about her before, and this mother has wanted to talk to me for a few years. I asked my mother where her mother was, but she was a judge, so she was poolside.<br />
<br />
A while later after all the team routines were done, the little girl was near us and her mother was standing behind me. She went to ask her mom for a sip of water and as she walked past me, her eyes never left my pump. And then I hear "mom, mom! she has an insulin pump." And so I walk over, "hi, I'm Briley. I'm on the Catalinas." The mother tells me how her daughter has the Omnipod, and asks if I saw her swim. I had, and I start to explain how I've been wanting to meet them for a long time, and then my mother walks and the CWD mother says, "Oh! you're Cynthia's daughter!" We talked for a few more minutes until the mother had to go back down to the pool.Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-53005927710857288852011-05-19T07:00:00.000-04:002011-05-19T07:00:13.838-04:00D appointment<i>I did today's post a little differently than I normally do. Yesterday was latest "endo" appointment, and there were a lot of emotions swirling around in my brain. So I wrote the beginning of my post before I left. I didn't know where my emotions would be post appointment, and I wanted to be able to accurately capture all emotions included both before and after this appointment. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<b>Before:</b><br />
<br />
Today I have an appointment with my D nurse. I'm excited for this appointment. I know, it sounds crazy. But for the first time in a LONG time, I think I'll have an A1C under 8. And I think the last time that happened was when I saw <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-miss-you.html">her</a> and when I had the <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-need-to-get-new-medical-bracelet.html">first one</a>.<br />
<br />
But I also have a list of questions I need to ask. The first being about seeing an endo. Since I had such an awesome endo as a kid, I feel as though that is the right path. I won't stop seeing my nurse, because she's awesome. But there's just something in me that thinks I should also see an endo. <br />
<br />
And then the fun questions. When I was skiing, my 3rd and 4th toes of my right foot got tingly. I think it only happened in the chairlift, and skiing down the mountain made it go away. But I still don't like that feeling. BUT, it could be because my toes are in a tight, enclosed space. And cold. Please pray that that is what it is. <br />
But my feet also get tingly when I sit cross legged. And I sit cross-legged all the time. I know that sitting like that can enhance neuropathy. But it's such a habit. And even sitting here writing this I'm cross-legged. I am trying beyond anything to stop sitting like that, because it's the only time my feet get tingly. But Diabetes, PLEASE don't be the cause. Please let this go away if I stop crossing my legs. When I get the little pokey thing on my foot, please let me feel it. Please don't make me walk away crying.<br />
<br />
And just this week I wasn't feeling like I was at the top of the game, and as I went to bed Sunday night I realized that I have the classic <a href="http://webmd.com/digestive-disorders/celiac-disease/celiac-disease-symptoms">Celiac symptoms</a>. This is the one that is most pressing on my mind at the moment. I have friends and family who have this, so I've certainly eaten this way before, but not as a lifestyle. Yesterday I tried to eat gluten free to see if my symptoms stayed or went away. And guess what, they went away. I know that one day doesn't prove anything, but it's certainly leaning in that direction. There was more around that was gluten free than I thought there would be, but then as I was getting the kids snacks ready, I just grabbed a piece of cereal (before the milk was in it) and ate it. If this ends up being a new "thing" for me, that is going to be one of the hardest parts. <br />
<br />
My thoughts going into this appointment: C'mon diabetes. I'm working at this again and now you're going to shove all this at me?!<br />
<br />
<b>After:</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
I AM KICKING DIABETES' ASS! Yes, I need to tell you about the whole thing, but first, my A1C is 7.2! At my <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/02/another-day-at-joslin.html">last appointment</a> it was 8.1.<br />
<br />
I go in and do all the boring things (blood pressure, weight(it went up slightly, but I blame the rain boots and jacket), BG test and blood for A1C) and they take my <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/friday-fun.html">pump(s)</a> to download them. (And I hope you didn't want a waiting room picture because I never was actually in the waiting room.) When I was done with her, I went to wait in the exam room and I didn't even time to tweet that I was there before my nurse came in. <br />
<br />
She asked how I was, what my basals were, which led to talking about switching pumps and how the meter remote was my deciding factor, waiting for my pumps and their reports to come back and if there was anything else I wanted to talk to her about. I told her how I had been experiencing a few Celiac symptoms lately (my guess is that it's been a few weeks) and how on Tuesday I ate gluten free and I did not experience the symptoms. I wanted to make sure she knew that I was not self-diagnosing, but it was the best way for me to test my theory in such a short period of time, and that I would just like to get tested. I wasn't going to need labs today, but I think that is worth knowing. She informed me that there are also people who are not Celiac, but have a wheat intolerance, so I may just want to cut back. This is something I have been <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/04/eating-healthier.html">trying to do</a>, but now I think I just need to focus on it a little bit more. <br />
<br />
We continued on and she asked about my feet, so I told her my tingly feet experiences, and she did the metal vibrating tool thing on my big toe and it felt like forever before I could stop feeling. She said she does not think I have neuropathy, it's just that when I cross my legs my blood vessels are getting squished causing my feet to feel funny. <br />
<br />
And then my pump(s) came back with a ton of print outs and we realized that I've been going high before lunch, so we increased my breakfast insulin:carb ratio. I told her how I was going low post lunch (a time when I'm frequently getting in the car) so I changed my basals without doing a basal test, but I'm not going low anymore. Tuesday and Wednesday morning I woke up high, but Monday night I was eating a lot and SWAGing, so I didn't count that as a high BG in the morning, but an unsuccessful SWAG. She agreed. <br />
<br />
And then she said, "let's check your A1C." And she squealed. "Are you ready?" as she turned her computer screen to me. But I couldn't find the number! And she told me..."7.2" And as I stammered through composure and smiling and a whole lot of happiness I heard "Look at what YOU did!!" (And this statement reminded me of something I think <a href="http://ninjabetic.com/">George's</a> doc would say) And I managed to tell her I haven't been this low since before I started college. If you don't me well enough and want a reference point, that was <a href="http://good-times.webshots.com/photo/1200140215055169465HwnkWZ">2003</a>. And then even better, "I hope you're going to celebrate tonight!" I don't know if I squealed or not, but I did when I got back to my car. And then she told me that this number/drop is even more amazing because it wasn't achieved because of lots of and/or extreme lows. <br />
<br />
And then I had to go back out for labs. I was standing there waiting with all these other people and they were all looking kinda blah, and I couldn't help but smile! I got my blood taken, scheduled my next appointment, and sat down to text my mom. And then of course share it with all of you. I'm still riding on this high, and I couldn't be more proud of myself if I tried right now. Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-38780258031122193342011-05-18T09:35:00.000-04:002011-05-18T09:35:51.919-04:00Juice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyvKJ1iEUP__7gsIaHoqpOoseVEHkKn2dI_6XohVYSOS1llNBwdib9nFQd5DIcDUbU8IHKcfKAS0hldQngIpPQ1VaIn5G91WzoTWKKCmjMGIEEFaidGUvvi5OMYZFNPsdxJwLmtwGs-yo/s1600/IMG_20110511_205629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyvKJ1iEUP__7gsIaHoqpOoseVEHkKn2dI_6XohVYSOS1llNBwdib9nFQd5DIcDUbU8IHKcfKAS0hldQngIpPQ1VaIn5G91WzoTWKKCmjMGIEEFaidGUvvi5OMYZFNPsdxJwLmtwGs-yo/s320/IMG_20110511_205629.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>Last Wednesday, I drove up for synchronized swimming like so many other weeks. But this week it was different. This is the <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/04/preparing-for-departure.html">last time</a> that I get to <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/03/synchro-surprise.html">swim</a> with my friend. It was another show, this time at the YMCA we called home last year (they missed us). That means that I'm not swimming for the normal hour, but only about 5 minutes. I didn't bother putting on a temp basal, especially since I was in the high 100s before getting there. Well that was my mistake. First of all before I got there, I was around 150. (I got there late) When the show was over 45 minutes later, I was hovering at 80. By the time I got out to my car, I was low. I had my handy liquid glucose which I took out and chugged. And then I went and hung out with my mom in her car. Between 10-15 minutes later, I was still low. And we found a juice box in her car, that I stabbed open with my key. (We found the straw later) And as I started to drink it I nearly spit it right back out. And then I looked at the top of the box and noticed the expiration date. My mother got her car in 2003, and I'm guessing that this juice box might have been in there since day 1. It was nasty! (And this morning I had one that expired in 2008). Pay attention to those expiration dates, because the juice really does taste gross after the expiration date. However, as my mother said "it's not like the sugar left." Which is true, and it did work. But, blech!Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-52330303770932892332011-05-17T09:26:00.000-04:002011-05-17T09:26:19.889-04:00Friday Fun!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimX0oKmD4U-GUgzBWY9JqKRdoveXJBYQ2M75AlvmIsRMS4al9Qkfj505gaVadRkbKQntJUjqiuPZiKvlOlqg_gupBBx4pQYyQooBfi5Wd9kMx91v9trdj3KHt7yTfDUoBameusgK2rylo/s1600/DSCN3860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimX0oKmD4U-GUgzBWY9JqKRdoveXJBYQ2M75AlvmIsRMS4al9Qkfj505gaVadRkbKQntJUjqiuPZiKvlOlqg_gupBBx4pQYyQooBfi5Wd9kMx91v9trdj3KHt7yTfDUoBameusgK2rylo/s320/DSCN3860.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All my new pump stuff :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL71LHr1eoiPOPE28zKtR9d6VC_4vH8h3sovGVAvXauXV56WmRGJijIFUcT_ODMsIG_L-vjONyvUYdpWiPNXBJ0GVeRa984j8LbG8OEnuIP8lXlDEZvjFixjkusERfgJ9RrhPKnz6NzSM/s1600/DSCN3864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL71LHr1eoiPOPE28zKtR9d6VC_4vH8h3sovGVAvXauXV56WmRGJijIFUcT_ODMsIG_L-vjONyvUYdpWiPNXBJ0GVeRa984j8LbG8OEnuIP8lXlDEZvjFixjkusERfgJ9RrhPKnz6NzSM/s320/DSCN3864.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink pump site :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIniS8TlBQKOJKrhTW58Gm9Yak6zM9gDZmDjZ8qg-VLGJyC0ouRCL2v9rBHYs_tofaImxF9ILTVHVHF58soL0SL8OvOAj4v7b8OJEh7hM48pfAVKfGjWi8GxKReAZf9YjpCBQZWYmGoU/s1600/DSCN3865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIniS8TlBQKOJKrhTW58Gm9Yak6zM9gDZmDjZ8qg-VLGJyC0ouRCL2v9rBHYs_tofaImxF9ILTVHVHF58soL0SL8OvOAj4v7b8OJEh7hM48pfAVKfGjWi8GxKReAZf9YjpCBQZWYmGoU/s320/DSCN3865.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not only is it new, it's pink!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>On Friday, a nurse from Animas came over to my apartment and we sat down and intensely learned all about Animas. It was nearly time for a site change, so I changed. Now I'm rocking a pink pump and I'm really excited about it. There probably should be more to say, but I'm just excited right now :)<div><br />
</div><div>P.S. I didn't actually wear gym shorts the whole time, but I'm more comfortable putting sites in my leg, so I changed so I wasn't dropping my pants in front of the nurse. Because changing is way less awkward. </div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-41151443640014330462011-05-16T09:27:00.000-04:002011-05-16T09:27:00.970-04:00More than a Meetup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>You might think I'm crazy. But I got off the plane, and got my luggage and got into my rental car. And I got on the highway and my GPS told me that I was going to be on one highway for 9 miles. So I called <a href="http://withasideofinsulin.com/">Mer</a> to tell her I was on my way. And it was the first time I ever talked to her on the phone! I mean, I just got off a nearly 1,000 mile flight, and I'm talking to her on the phone. Let me also say that I don't do well talking to people for the first time on the phone, and I don't do well meeting people for the first time. It's the shy thing kicking in and taking control. And that day, I NEVER had a problem. And then two hours later, I was there. In Kentucky. With/Meeting my friend. I called my mom, because ya know, parents get nervous when you jump on a plane to go meet someone you met online.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIf3-b1TzmIzvxIG05INKe4qRsJG69BR9XbTdpMcacLyykyyoPmVyiWMHzdZHDrkMcgOmbXME7hXLF5mDjyQvyIFnmtTja7sjLEuKgWM0b7o2PGStalsrXQM8_3TGg5JiH5VCh8AzNHew/s1600/DSCN3801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIf3-b1TzmIzvxIG05INKe4qRsJG69BR9XbTdpMcacLyykyyoPmVyiWMHzdZHDrkMcgOmbXME7hXLF5mDjyQvyIFnmtTja7sjLEuKgWM0b7o2PGStalsrXQM8_3TGg5JiH5VCh8AzNHew/s320/DSCN3801.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chow Wagon eating Greater Taters, and mine must have been made the biggest potato in the world.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/doc-social-skills.html?showComment=1304707674000#c1562373334139130395">Karen</a>, you were right. It was like I had known Mer forever. And then we went and did all sorts of touristy things. Like the Chow Wagon. And the biggest bat in the world. And Lynn's Paradise Cafe. And seeing the Garland of Roses which is made at the grocery store. This was crazy to me. I assumed it was made at a fancy florist, but I guess it was fancy since the grocery store had ribbons everywhere. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlN5yqx0hYIlbQZHcWCNNBqQzOYLe1n6fTmSDCkamhSZka-O9Bh5tsfQfnl8czeYreZwz__o3DSQvVPKsInzUg5TIZ8cAw2oup4YD3_qeLUhA9SwT0JeByQ7e2-a0iAOdHM4c6MoyR6M/s1600/DSCN3804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlN5yqx0hYIlbQZHcWCNNBqQzOYLe1n6fTmSDCkamhSZka-O9Bh5tsfQfnl8czeYreZwz__o3DSQvVPKsInzUg5TIZ8cAw2oup4YD3_qeLUhA9SwT0JeByQ7e2-a0iAOdHM4c6MoyR6M/s320/DSCN3804.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Louisville Slugger Bat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>On Saturday, I did nothing but eat, and eat, and eat. (Oh, you'd like to know how my diabetes reacted?) Well first, I ate chips and guacamole, chicken burrito, chocolate chip cookies, some sort of strawberry dessert deliciousness, Derby pie, broccoli casserole and more. And! I never went over 300. I call that success. But even more awesome was that, was the feeling of meeting people who included me as though I had been there time and time before. Even though some people were disappointed I didn't say Bahston. And we wore fabulous hats. And Mer won the prize (are you surprised?). This is thing that I find most amazing about the Derby. It isn't just one race. There are races all day. And there are even races on the turf. I had no idea! I'm not a horse person, never have been and never will. And yes, I've tried for the sake of my cousins, but no, its not for me. However, this was awesome. So the fact that I was there for Derby was kinda crazy. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjZc8f9x9wY8igk5RTWjJ-M6XLZdUgpl5XJNkQ2fKW7PEYjDHCXyXmGujEeCdnwsSQLYuay-HZuPekKNOmL2__fWjip2B4Cd8iGVilZsqzJWiIRyZooazU6PUASGzJS-r7UKWa-nBDzk/s1600/DSCN3829_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjZc8f9x9wY8igk5RTWjJ-M6XLZdUgpl5XJNkQ2fKW7PEYjDHCXyXmGujEeCdnwsSQLYuay-HZuPekKNOmL2__fWjip2B4Cd8iGVilZsqzJWiIRyZooazU6PUASGzJS-r7UKWa-nBDzk/s320/DSCN3829_2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Derby party</td></tr>
</tbody></table>On Sunday, (Mother's Day - sorry mom!), we went out to brunch with Mer's parents and I experienced southern fried food. And lots of people watching. And then we went over to Churchill Downs. It has always been this place that I see on TV once a year, and then, that's only been within the past few years when there's been a fundraiser at my uncle's bar on Derby Day for a therapeutic riding center. The hats, the betting, the racing: I had no idea. Churchill Downs is so impressive though. It's also incredible to me because I love doing things I never imagined doing. And flying down to Kentucky is definitely one of those things. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim8rK9MWzD-jID74cYQ8PdgbAJomkrGBUEKkuairCqjOADETf13DudRj8dH3iElbNN39ZDy1O1uJkppzVONv_d_J44BrtSutR8_IbSGy9FQv9LNFf9jIKeSjz8uNf8TYQQL6WWmuCZLI/s1600/DSCN3848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim8rK9MWzD-jID74cYQ8PdgbAJomkrGBUEKkuairCqjOADETf13DudRj8dH3iElbNN39ZDy1O1uJkppzVONv_d_J44BrtSutR8_IbSGy9FQv9LNFf9jIKeSjz8uNf8TYQQL6WWmuCZLI/s320/DSCN3848.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you Mer for such an amazing weekend! On Sunday as we were hanging out in her apartment, we were talking about DBlog Week, and we both came up with how awesome it would be, but also how it was going to get in the way of telling everyone about our weekend together. What I like to call an ultimate DOC meetup. It certainly went by way too fast, and now it feels like I should be able to call you up and say "let's get together!" Except that's the problem with far away friends, you can't do that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>"There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound."</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5041558438808370660.post-77677574954842910032011-05-15T00:16:00.000-04:002011-05-15T00:16:14.923-04:00Saturday Snapshots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5109/5679528179_edf22b25d1_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="85" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5109/5679528179_edf22b25d1_m.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<i>Saturday Snapshots: Inspired by the <a href="http://flickr.com/groups/mydiabetesathome/">D365 Project</a>, let's snap a few more D-related pictures and share them again. </i><br />
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A picture is worth a thousand words, right? I'm a big fan of using <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/05/awesome-things.html">pictures</a> to <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/04/busy-weekend.html">tell</a> my <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/03/happy-birthday.html">story</a>, and I've <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/02/swimming-dsma.html">done</a> it a <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/01/im-going-to-let-pictures-do-talking.html">time</a> or <a href="http://inDpendence.blogspot.com/2011/01/crazy-eyes.html">two</a> before.<br />
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I was trying to figure out the best pictures to post all day, and came up with nothing. And then I came across this picture that my friend took last summer. I think it sums up everything I was trying to say with other pictures perfectly.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9lo6PiNqQwaBeACpbekQnOaachyphenhyphenWtA0L-5xI3It-l8OWD4z8uOP0f8f9eMYoX9AP5aYY2KCjy6biT0jZ9UaQkVKTK1NKccp2yfUgXq4Q6WA_ns57-9YiKnuh5xmOQFLiW-hwMV1pSXKk/s1600/40018_1358069279100_1452540078_2198631_7166764_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9lo6PiNqQwaBeACpbekQnOaachyphenhyphenWtA0L-5xI3It-l8OWD4z8uOP0f8f9eMYoX9AP5aYY2KCjy6biT0jZ9UaQkVKTK1NKccp2yfUgXq4Q6WA_ns57-9YiKnuh5xmOQFLiW-hwMV1pSXKk/s320/40018_1358069279100_1452540078_2198631_7166764_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Thank you </i><a href="http://bittersweetdiabetes.com/"><i>Karen</i></a><i> for hosting DBlog Week!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>If you want to see others' snapshots, check them out </i><a href="http://blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=KarenBitterSweet&postid=04May2011b"><i>here</i></a><i>!</i></div>Brileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17324716040717324575noreply@blogger.com3