Mistaken Number

I went home this weekend for my cousin's nurse pinning from St. Anselm's college.  In a pew meant for seven, maybe eight people, we had ten.  Although my uncle will tell you we had 9.5 people on that bench. In my teensy tiny purse, I debated on just stuffing some tabs in there, but managed to get my meter in there too.  And whether it was being hungry, or stuffy in there, I started to feel low.  I got out all my stuff as un-noticeable as possible.  I was sitting between my mother and my aunt and as my meter was counting down from 5, I heard a gasp.  "I thought it said you were 2." I looked at my mother and we both imitated what me passing out would've looked like.  And my aunt said, "even I knew it was counting down."  And then I said, "well, at least there are lots of people here who could help me."

cousins: Megan, me, Michael & Kate

Guest Post: Chocolate Cheeks

I have another guest post from my mother today.  I wrote about my first Easter, but I got it wrong, so here's the real version.  Keep in mind, this was in 1990, when we counted calories, not carbs and there was no humalog and each meal had a set amount of food to be eaten.  

Found

The hard cold facts of diabetes and balancing diet, eating schedule and insulin, first became apparent for you the week after Easter when you were 4 years old.  Of course at that age, Daddy and I managed what you ate and when.  We tried to give you a variety of choices and foods so that you weren't constantly aware of the structure diabetes had placed on your life.

As with every holiday, we felt it was important for you to receive the same "treats" as other children.  Easter, Halloween, etc.  We had our own way of dealing with what we did with the treats, or when you ate them.  Sugar free chocolates from Van Otis are great *editor's note: I don't think so anymore*, but they still contain calories.

This particular night you had requested spaghetti for dinner.  Like most children, you liked pasta.  Yours with sauce on the side of course!  It was probably right before I was to begin cooking dinner, and I was upstairs, you downstairs.  You were very quiet, but for you that was normal, always busy with your coloring, books, etc.  When I came downstairs I saw you make a beeline around the house in the opposite direction of the kitchen.  Hmmmm, there were little pieces of colored foil on the floor.  When I met you in the living room, your cheeks were full of chocolate Easter eggs.  Now you had only had diabetes for a year or so, so this floored me.  I had no idea of figuring out how many you had eaten, what to do about the calories, dinner, and of course you had no idea.  The main thing is that Daddy and I had made the choice that food was never to be a battle with you.  So I determined that you should have no pasta for dinner, we would give you Regular insulin based on your normal dosage, hoped that you had candy that matched the carbs you were scheduled to have, and monitor you till bedtime testing and insulin.  You were SOOO disappointed about having no pasta.  I explained the hows and why of your choice of eating the candy.  Oh you had such a sad face.  I don't remember how the rest of the night went with glucose readings.  But it was the first time all of us had to deal with you acting like a normal 4-year-old after Easter, and us having to deal with the adjustments and corrections of diabetes.  I guess I felt that you needed to know that your choice to eat the candy was okay, but that affected your choice for dinner as well.

That was a day that again reminded me how different your life would be with all the birthdays and holidays.  I hope that because of the flexibility we did "allow"you on those occasions, that you knew that on occasion, you could eat the cake, ice cream, and some candy.  We just had to plan more than others did.

As always, when one door closes, another opens.

Deliciousness

When I woke up Saturday morning, I had no idea what to anticipate my BG as.  I've actually been waking up quite well lately, (and I'm sure that will change now) but the "oh no what will it be" is apparently automatic right now.  I was 152 mg/dL, which is darn near perfect for a day of skiing.  When you stick 11 people in a hotel "room," breakfast is a little chaotic.  But I grab a bagel and I'm totally all set and diabetes is great.  Our goal was first chair, and we were almost successful.  We got second.  And at the end of that run, I felt low.  So I took out my pump, pushed the basal down to 70% and went on my way.  And after the second run, I still felt low.  Grab the meter and I'm in the 60s.  Scoff down some tabs (of which I didn't bring enough, but wasn't about to admit that then and there), and take out the pump again and push the basal down to 50%.  And I was on my way.  No more feeling low for this girl! And we skied about half the mountain.

As a ski family, we've always taken snack breaks.  A few people have even mentioned that.  So when a few of us were in need of warming up and energizing, we stopped in at the lodge.  Now I still remember the days when the food was homemade, and the eternal optimist in me still believes that I might walk in one day and it will be there again.  But on this day, it was nearly true.  I grabbed a hot chocolate, and my cousin even showed me the container of marshmallows.  And then I turned around and saw the cinnamon buns.  I ran over to my mother and asked if she wanted to share.  I don't remember why she didn't want to, but I decided to go for it anyways.  And I felt better because said cousin was also getting one.  Not only did it at least look  kinda homemade, it was giant and it was swimming in syrup/frosting.  I am not sure what I bolused for this delicious treat, but I do know that it was definitely bolus-worthy.  And then I was wondering whether I would need a temp basal for the rest of the ski day.  I decided to reset the temp basal, because I could always do another bolus if I didn't need it, and a high BG wouldn't stop me from skiing.  The whole family skied around a lot of the mountain, and then the cousins took off to ski some more.  When we went inside at lunch time, I was 179 mg/dL.  So I probably didn't need such an extreme temp basal, but things definitely could've been worse.  We went back out after lunch, with another temp basal, and at the end of the ski day, a 70 mg/dL was staring me back.  Not so bad either.

The reason these temp basals are perplexing me is because when I first got the pump in 2002, I needed temp basals while I was skiing.  And I of course always thought I would.  And then I slowly needed more and more insulin during a ski day.  But now, I'm needing more extreme temp basals during my ski days, making for some trial and error days.  (But maybe that's all diabetes ever is?)

Happy Birthday

This weekend I went up to Sunday River to celebrate a 75th Birthday for one of my most favorite people in the world: 

Uncle Pepere turns 75!

We skiied

Megan, me, Michael & Karolyn

We love good trails

And we enjoyed time with family

The whole gang to celebrate the man front & center

cousins :)

And we had a lot of laughs in the process.  I hope everyone else had a great weekend too :)

"Sickness comes on horseback but departs on foot."

Last year on March 13, we had a great St. Pattie's Day party, with the intention of going downtown the next morning for the parade.  It was the first time most of our friends saw our apartment, and so many of our college friends came over.  Even people who said they couldn't make it were knocking on our door.  It was our first time hosting a party as adults, but still kinda in college mode.  So we went all out and bought cheese, chicken & sandwich platters.  Most of the food was gone by the end of the night, so at least we tried to help, but we still all ended up feeling quite nice at the end of the night.

When I woke up the next morning, I had a hangover, but not as intense as I thought it would be.  I stumbled to the kitchen for water, and made a pot of coffee.  I ended up in the living room in front of the TV.  I double-fisted my water and coffee, and I was starting to feel better.  Time for food.  The thought of eating one of the left over sandwiches didn't sound good.  So I opted for a yogurt.  I ate about half, and didn't think it was sitting well, so I stopped.  A little while later, off to the bathroom I ran.  Back to the couch with my water.  Drinking, drinking, drinking.  And kept needing to run to the bathroom.   I was in contact with my mother all day, and as I would start to feel better, I would try to eat.  Nothing worked.  When our friend woke up and was getting ready to leave, I was able to stay on the couch.  I didn't want him to think I was that hungover, since I've never vomited as part of a hangover.

As the day went on, I knew that this was not a hangover.  This was something else.  Especially since I didn't start vomiting until after I ate (which was quite a few hours after I woke up).  I was in constant contact with my mother, and around 9PM when I was vomiting bile, and possibly blood, she asked me to go to the ER.  I live less than two miles from a hospital and that is where my roommate brought me.  I couldn't even stand up to give the check in lady all my information.  As soon as she had it, I asked where the bathroom was.  I hung out in there until the nurse called my name to evaluate me.  I was so weak at that point that it took all of my energy to hang over the toilet seat, and not lay down on the floor.  I had my roommate come with me everywhere (she stayed right outside the bathroom), and was there as I was talking to the nurses.  The nurse tested my BG, and I don't remember what it was, but I do remember that it was high. *I had been testing my BGs all day.  They were high, and I was taking insulin, and testing my ketones, but I didn't have any all day until right before I went to the ER.

I got admitted to the ER, and I got some fluids, some diet gingerale, and I immediately started feeling better.  (That wasn't saying much though.) I still felt awful, and around 2AM, my roommate went home.  They wanted me in the ICU, but the only open bed was in the RICU, so there I went.  This was after I got x-rays (I think), and something else that required me to be wheeled out of the ER.  I got to the RICU and my nurse was straight off the boat from Ireland.  A big thick woman with the same type of accent.  And just as nice.  It's funny how when you're in your twenties and sick, everyone immediately treats you much younger, and I'm totally okay with that.  I wanted my stuffed animal, and my mom, and sleep.    I did get some sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, an endocrinologist came to see me, and told me what my A1C was.  In the event of full disclosure, here we go.  11.1% and DKA.  No wonder why I was sick.  My guess is that she's a nice person if you fit exactly within how she views taking care of diabetes should happen, but clearly I wasn't doing that.  She asked me why I didn't come in as soon as I tested positive for ketones.  When I told her that I did, she didn't like that I followed procedure and was still in the hospital.  I was on an IV with Regular insulin (I believe).  I slept a lot.  My roommate called in sick from work (from lack of sleep), so she brought me clean clothes (underwear!), my phone charger,  a magazine and other various trinkets to survive an unknown length hospital stay.  My parents were there with me pretty early in the morning, but I don't know how long they stayed.  I know that they stayed long enough to talk to the doctor.  I'm not sure if they talked to the endocrinologist or not, but they did talk to the other doctor.  

I slept most of that Monday (March 15), and then had a hard time falling asleep that night.  But finally it happened.  And then the nurse tried to wake me up to have me take a potassium pill at 3AM.  First of all, I can't swallow pills (up until about a month ago).  Second of all, if you're going to make me swallow a pill, don't wake me up to do it.  My response: Can't I just have a banana?  I'm not sure if the nurse laughed or not, but I was pretty proud of myself for knowing that.  Needless to say, I didn't take the pill.  But no one ever mentioned that on my chart.

I was hooked up to all sorts of machines and wires, and completely uncomfortable.  Besides not being able to test my own blood sugar, I was okay.  I would call the nurses when I needed to use the bathroom.    The other time I was concerned was after I noticed my hand was all sorts of puffy.  Of course, I sent the picture to my best friend and mom before seeing if they thought I should ask the nurse.  My arms both had IVs in them, so they thought the puffiness was from that.  It was something they were keeping an eye on, but not something that was overly concerning.  On Tuesday, I was restless.  My father came to visit during the day, and it was good to see him, but I was completely embarrassed as well.  I like unexpected visits with my parents; but the cause was not a reason I'm proud of.  To prepare me to leave on Wednesday, I got a dose of Lantus at 3PM on Tuesday.  My BGs went back up after that, but my body has never really accepted Lantus.  The nurses were concerned, but I asked for Humalog and we were on our way.  Of course, it took a lot of convincing to get the Humalog.  No one ever said it, but the "you're the patient, not the one with a medical degree" was being tossed around.    Tuesday evening I buzzed the nurse because I was getting antsy.  My awesome Irish nurse came back to see what was happening, and I asked if I could go for a walk.  I'm not sure what being a nurse is like, but something I guess from her reaction is that ICU nurses aren't used to people asking to go for a walk.  And as we walked out towards the hallway, I could see why.  All my neighbors were flat in their beds, some grunting.  I'm a healthy, active person.  I did not make it very far.  I made it back to my bed, but I was exhausted.

Wednesday was St. Patrick's Day, and the day I was going to get to go home.  My mom showed up around lunchtime, and was there for quite a while.  On Wednesday I had a nurse I hadn't seen yet.  If they had met under different circumstances, my mom & her would be best friends.  Sometimes people walk into your lives and make an impression.  This nurse was mine.  Her husband is a T1.  I told her the story of how I got there, and there was no "you should have done this or that."  It was, wow, I'm so sorry.  I hope you get better.  Based on your charts, you're already getting there.  She was knowledgeable, but also admitted to not knowing it all since she's an ICU nurse, not an endo nurse.  At 3:15PM, I buzzed her.  I've been watching the clock for hours knowing that they need to discharge me by 3PM so I can get back to my insulin schedule.  I am freaking out at this point because I'm used to not being taken seriously by most of the nurses/doctors.  In walks savior nurse, and after the coaching of my mother, I tell her straight-forward what has happened.  At that instant, I was without any insulin because I got my lantus shot 24 hours ago, and I need another one, or I need to go back on my pump.  This is not an exact quote, but pretty damn close: You've had diabetes for 20 years.  You know better what you need than the doctors who don't have time for you.  Get back on your pump if that's what you need.  But can you wait 2 minutes so I can watch and tell my husband about it?  Those two minutes didn't hurt, and I set everything up.  Savior nurse and another nurse came in and I explained all about the pump.  The type of site I use and basals & boluses.  I changed my site for them to see, I got dressed, and the doctor came to give me my discharge papers.  I came home, took a real shower, and my roommate, mother and I went out to dinner.  There was no alcohol; there was no big celebration; there were laughs and good food.  There was a commitment to get better, work harder, and lower the A1C.  It took me a long time, nearly all summer.  But I'm here, and working harder than I have - possibly ever.

"Trouble is a part of life, and if you don't share it you don't give the person who loves you a chance to love you enough." Dinah Shore

Skiing, Eating & Talking Low

When I was on vacation, I took one day and went skiing with my mom and aunt.  We went to Loon, which is where I remember our family vacations starting.  It was a beautiful day and we skied and skied and took a coffee break (where my BG was high) and skied some more until we met up with another family friend who has two young children.  We ended skiing with the little boy so that he didn't have to wait while they tried to coax the younger sister out on the slopes.  At 11:30 when we picked him up, I was starting to get hungry.  We usually try to wait to eat lunch until about 1:00 or so that we can ski while the rest of the skiers are eating their lunch.  Skiing with the little boy was great, but by the time we met back up with his mother an hour later, I was starving.  And we were on the opposite side of the mountain from my favorite lodge, which is where we had said we'd get lunch.  We skied over and I was working from memory.  I knew I was low.  I walked into the lodge and couldn't even talk to people to see if they were leaving so we could have their table.  I took off my mittens, helmet, etc, etc, and had mom hand over the meter and some sort of 50 number was staring me back in the face.  Whether it was tabs or juice, I don't remember, but I finished it as quick as possible, that's all I know.  But I was certainly still "low" for quite a while.  I went through line and ordered my soup and talked with my mother about what to get to drink and I heard my name.  When I hear my name, it's a seriously good chance that it's someone I know.  I'm trying to figure out who is talking to me, and it's one of my college tennis teammates.  She wasn't just a teammate though, she was my very first roommate.  And I was in the midst of a "shitfaced low!" We talked for a few minutes, catching up, and me staring at my food.  Knowing I needed it in my belly.  By the time I finished my lunch, she was gone, so I couldn't go back and have a real conversation.  But it was still good to be able to talk to her, even it was in the midst of a low blood sugar.

My Happy Place

I went up to Sunday River with my family for the weekend.  I don't know if it's Maine, or the fact that in high school cell phones wouldn't work there, or just family, but Sunday River is my happy place.  And I'm not trying to steal their slogan, it just is.  I left right from work on Friday, and I was a little bit nervous about my drive.  The last time I made the drive, I was pretty tired.  But this time I looked good  (so I felt good) since I had my meeting with the Animas rep that morning (more on that soon).  I get there, text my friend so she knows I achieved my travel goals, and join the family who's already had a few drinks with dinner and dominoes, and since I'm the last one there, and the one with a tough week, we all head down to the bar.  It's not something that we've ever really done before, but we've got some great memories.  We learned about doo-yahs in Maine (I want to see if anyone out there knows what it is), and we held our faces from laughing to much, and we wondered how many people at the bar would be there when the chairs opened with us.  It was the perfect start to a weekend following a not so good week.

White Heat: my favorite

On Saturday, we woke up early to get the good runs in.  We started making our way through the fog and up and around to the groomed trails.   This included White Heat.  When I was nine, I started doing White Heat and it's partner, Shockwave.  At the time, they had a sign warning you of the dangers including severe injury or death from falling.  This sign was at a point of no return. I started crying and it took me 45 minutes to get down, for fear of falling.  As my mom says, "if you hadn't been able to read, you would've been fine."  I don't know if that's why, but every time I make it to the bottom of these, I get a huge surge of pride.  Well White Heat had been groomed and Shockwave had not.  My dad, uncle and cousin headed over there while the rest of headed down White Heat.  We got to the intersection and waited for them and I'm starting to feel low.  My mom carries my meter because she has a lot more pockets than I do.  She gets it out, and I'm expecting a number in the 60s.  Except that a 31 mg/dL stares me back in the face.  I get out my gluco-shot, which tasted so bad I thought I was going to throw it up.  And then my mom asked me the fateful question.  "Do you need to go in?"  I hate this question as it relates to diabetes.  I didn't feel that low, so I didn't feel like I needed to go in.  But the number staring me back told me otherwise.  So my mother and I headed inside while everyone else stayed skiing.  I got inside and waited  for my numbers to come up.  They did, but I wanted to stay a little longer, make sure I didn't start to drop again.  I didn't, but the tired feeling never left.  The rest of the day had decent numbers, though they were rising the rest of the day.  Whether it was the 31, or the fog & rain, I definitely felt tired the rest of the day.

Guest Post: A Younger View

Today's post is from my cousin Karolyn.  The best day of my life was her baptism because she became my god-sister.  This was a big deal to a seven year-old only child.  When we were younger, I couldn't understand her.  I mean, how could you not love to ski?  But then all of a sudden she loved it.  And I don't know if that is when we became close, or if it was before then, but all I know is that now, we're close.  Now, I don't know what I would do without her. 

As my beautiful sister, Kate, said, diabetes wasn't a sickness in our family. All the cousins grew up with it and I was so little and hating skiing that I appreciated the 10 o'clock breaks, the lunch breaks, and if they could convince me to get back out there, the afternoon breaks where Briley had to test and I could happily munch on a bread bowl of clam chowder without the clams or cinnamon buns. Honestly, my understanding was that every family took breaks like that or someone in the family did what Briley did on those breaks. My mom, grandparents, aunts and uncles never let on that what Briley was dealing with was a sickness, and you'd never know it by looking at her. She, Kate, Megan, Michael and I would ski and swim like there was never a problem. As I've grown up I've obviously realized the severity of diabetes and how much it affects Briley's life, but she really never seems to let it get her down. Her accomplishments and array of activities absolutely amaze me, from her triathlons to her ski racing to synchronized swimming to nannying. She really is one of my greatest inspirations because despite having diabetes, she does so many amazing things and her family couldn't be more proud of her. I find myself reading her blog and thinking, "Damn, she's kicking ass these days," despite how much she's dealing with. She's my cousin, my God sister, and my friend and I love her to pieces. Thanks for the breaks from skiing when I was little, the love, friendship, and support as I've grown older, and for being an inspiration for all of us; it means more than you may realize.

Guest Post: D-Day

Today's post is from my mother.  I'm not sure how to introduce the woman who has been there for me, for, forever.  She is the one that called the doctor day after day; that figured out my calories; that figured out where the best diabetes place in the school was for me; that made diabetes not be a big deal.  She did it all, without a constant support group like the DOC.  Here is her story of my D-Day.  

Well, since you’ve had diabetes over 20 years, I could write a book.  But for this entry I will start at the beginning.  It was Fourth of July week-end and you were very lethargic and cranky.  Initially daddy and I thought we needed to be stricter with you, as you were an only child, we thought all the whining was because you were, well, a spoiled three year old.  I brought you to the doctor’s office and was told to bring you immediately to the hospital. There you stayed for 5 days.  The long stay was so that Dad and I could learn how to take care of you.  As there is no history of diabetes in either of our families this was all new to us.  Once you received some insulin, you bounced back to your usual fun loving self.  By the next day when Grammy and Grampa Dea came to visit, you were riding a tricycle around the corridors of Elliot Hospital, smiling and waving.  That insulin was like a happy pill for you. 

Every night either Daddy or I stayed in the room with you.  Of course when it was me, your hair was pulled back in braids and you wore a cute little outfit.  When daddy stayed, there you sat for breakfast with his baseball hat on, hair sticking out all over the place.  Your outfit would be such a surprise.  I guess he thought it better to pick a shirt, shorts, socks etc from different piles, not the ones that matched.  I think you two conspired against me just to see my reaction.

I remember several key things from that hospital stay.  Daddy and I reacted the same way to your diagnosis.  We both wanted to learn everything we needed to know to take care of you.  The insulin ratios, how to use a needle, mix regular and NPH insulins, how to rotate your sites, the diet of starches, vegetables, dairy, meat, vegetables, etc.  No carbohydrate counting back then.  14 goldfish equaled 1 starch.  A meat serving is the size of my palm.  But most importantly your pediatrician told us to not feel sorry for you.  He told us not to dwell on how or why you had diabetes, but to move forward.  He told us you would be able to do anything with your life as long as you respected diabetes and took care of yourself.  In our hearts, daddy and I wish you did not have diabetes, but if not you, then who?   No one of course, so therefore, we have lived with diabetes too.  We look at your diagnosis as we were driving on one road, and had to take a right. 

While you were in the hospital, Uncle Brian and Uncle Dan, came over to help daddy clean the house and mow the lawn.  While they worked around the house, daddy took stock of our kitchen cabinets and went to the grocery store.  What was I thinking?!!!!   O how he loves those little cans of peas!  Our entire extended family stepped up and helped us in so many ways.  Your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends.  They all visited and sent you so many balloons that you were handing them out to other children in the hospital.

Diabetes is just one part of who you are.  Everybody has something, and diabetes is yours.  Mine is that I have a child with diabetes.  And everyday I am thankful for that little girl with blue eyes and thick brown hair who also has to test her blood and take insulin every day.  It has been my pleasure to care for you since that day so long ago.

Guest Post: Candy to You

Today's post is from my cousin Kate.  Cousin isn't the right term either, and neither is our technical relation: second cousins.  Being an only child, Kate (and her sister Karolyn) are the closest people I have to sisters.  We spent summers together at their pool and winters together on the mountain.  We both started skiing at three years old, but we couldn't be more different.  She loved horses and was scared of dogs.  I love dogs and was scared of horses.  I went to school for Early Childhood Education and she's going to school for Business, but that's probably why our mother's wish that a little of us would rub off on each other. 

I was shopping at Wal-Mart the other day and wandered into the pharmacy area.  I looked over and saw Glucose Tabs.  Oh, the memories.  Growing up, I guess I never realized that someone with diabetes was sick.  No one in our family ever made it seem that way.  Most of my experience with having a family member with diabetes (my awesome big cousin) was during ski season.  Since Briley had to test, we would stop for one morning break, a lunch, and an afternoon break throughout the day.  Since we had been skiing since we were about 3 years old, it became a routine.  It was never a break for Briley, it was just what we did (and most of the time I think it became more of a break for me and my clam chowder with no clams).  I don't think I ever remember looking at her any different than anyone in the family, which brings me back to Glucose Tabs.  Now that I am older, I know that they are used in the event that a diabetic's sugar is low (under 100 somewhere).  Back then, it was Briley getting candy.  I knew that it was because she needed it, but from time to time she would sneak me one  so that I didn't feel left out.  Oh yes, that was us being rebellious ten & twelve year olds.  I guess my point is that everything became sort of normal.  I used to help her get all of her supplies out when she was ready to test.  We would hope that it would be around 100 and even take guesses to see who could get closest.  When it was time for her insulin, I would watch patiently so that we could go on our merry way and find something fun to do. As I got older, I even asked questions about how much she needed and why.  It was never something that bothered me though.  She was always just my big cousin.  I know that to Briley, it is obviously a large part of her life, but I think that our family made it as normal as we could, or at least we tried.  Now Briley has a pump, but there are still morning breaks, lunches, and afternoon breaks even though they are  no longer necessary.  When I see Glucose Tabs in Wal-Mart, I do not think of my sick older cousin, but instead the sweet taste that I got as a treat when our parents weren't looking.  When Briley asked me to write something for her blog, I think I had so much trouble coming up with something because it was never something that interfered with our relationship or the time we spent together.  She is not my older cousin with diabetes, and I rarely would ever describe her as such.  She is just my cousin, and I love her, diabetes or not.

Did I mention I started crying when I read this?

Guest Post: Games and Diabetes

Following yesterday's post, I've decided to start having some guest posts on my blog.  I am leaning away from the DOC though, and instead getting posts from my family.  They have been there for everything, diabetes or not.  Today's post is from my cousin Andrew.  He is a teacher, coach (football & sailing), skier, and over-all fun loving guy.  

I can vividly remember when it was time for you to check your blood sugar with your poke kit (and there were many different kinds of kits too :).  The Nugnes's and Boisvert's love to compete, as you know, so we would make a fun game out of it.  We knew that 100 was around perfect, or normal levels for your more technical personel :).  We would go around the room and guess what the number would be and the person closest to it would win the game.  Don't ask me what they won but it made the process fun, and for you, Briley, I'm sure it made it all the more easy when the entire family was involved :).

Also, having watched this process many times, I was an RA at Stonehill College and one night one of my residents was either really drunk, or as we came to find out later, drugged, but not by her own accord.  Anyway, sorry about the details, but we knew she was a diabetic and had to inject insullin as well as check her blood sugar.  We wanted to make sure she wasn't going into shock, so we found her poke kit, we pricked her finger, tested her blood and it was 104.  I knew right then it wasn't her blood.  She came to thank all of us the next day and was laughing when I told her how I knew what to do.  She was thankful I had a cousin show me what to do in that instance :).

In My Life

Long before there was a sick three year old, 

Long before there was diabetes,

Long before there was insulin, 

Long before there were shots, 

Long before there was calorie counting, 

Long before there was an endocrinologist, 

Long before there were nutritionists and diabetes educators.  

There was family.  

Stay tuned tomorrow to see where this is going :)

Not So Unflappable Me

This year for Christmas, my grandmother wrote all of us inspirational notes to accompany our gifts.  In my mother's note, she called her unflappable.  And it's true.  (And it probably drives my grandmother crazy.)  I, on the other hand, am not so unflappable.  So as we were enjoying our snow day, I was becoming more and more agitated with diabetes.
9:10 AM - 275
11:06 AM - 279
12:23 PM - 80
12:48 PM - 49
2:16 PM - 238
3:14 PM - 81
3:46 PM - 68
4:02 PM - 122
7:26 PM - 345
10: 21 PM - 274
11:19 PM - 133
And after being sick the day before, I yell out in frustration "It's a good thing I'm going tomorrow!"  (to Joslin) And then I finished my lunch, and sat down at my computer to read some blogs before going back out to shovel.  And I sit down and I start reading about Kerri being honest and I'm glued to my screen.  It's certainly not what I want to see (for any person with diabetes), but it's exactly what I need to see.  I remember when I first started reading sixuntilme, and I sent the link to my longest dia-buddy and she said, "Briley, I can't read this.  She thinks 160 is high."   I've been a 8._ A1C-er probably since I started college.  The lowest I ever got was 8.4.  So the 8.2 I got last time was huge for me.  And yet, I'm still sitting here going crazy.  As I'm glued to my computer, my mother is standing at the counter tapping her foot waiting for me to get my snow gear back on.  I talk to her about the blogs I read, but she doesn't quite understand how much they mean to me, and how much they help me, and especially how reading Kerri's has gotten me back on track.  (Kerri, if she only knew how much you help me, then you'd have a bigger fan than any of us in the DOC.)  By the time I finished reading I was furious.  I was mad that this post that is really helpful to me, is now tainted with this frustrated feeling.  I love to comment, but I couldn't.  I didn't want my anger highlighted for all to see.  Instead I've been stewing for a few days.  How we all get there.  How do we get out of it.  How do we get the help we need?  Do we have all the help/support we need?  Is there more I can do for me? for others?  Will I ever get under 8?  How hard will it be?  If I do, can I keep it there?  What about someday, way far off, when it absolutely needs to be lower?  Will I be able to do it?  So far there is no evidence (as an adult) that I can.  Did my unflappable mother ever have these doubts about herself when she was taking care of me?  If she did, I certainly never saw them.  How did she hide them? (Now that I'm an adult, I do know that she had them, but she never let me see.)  How do I go from working really hard and seeing results to working really hard and not seeing results?  And why?  And how do I not let it get the best of me?

A Family Affair (or two)

As I was skiing with a lot of my cousins on Christmas Eve, Karolyn kept talking about the Italian feast her parents were making at home.  I knew that our only plans for the night were going to mass, but nothing else, so I kept joking that I was going to crash dinner. Well, after mass, we headed over and there was so much food.  Clam something-or-other as an appetizer, then homemade pasta for lasagna, and fettucine alfredo, meatballs & sausage, chicken parm and veal parm.  Yes, looking at this meal made me high (^400 to be exact).  As we're sitting around the counter, we were talking about how many year it had been since "something" passed (I don't remember what the something was), and of course the "I've had diabetes for 21 years so that means it's...." From there we figured out how long it had been since "something" had happened.  And then, my uncle turned around, looked at me and said, "Ya know, that day sucked."  We were at their house on that day, and then, of course, everything changed.  "You were so little, and so sick"  And then my mom looks at my aunt and says "And that's when Kate got chicken pox because you couldn't bring her to visit."  It's funny the things you remember based on the biggest day of your life; things that otherwise wouldn't be remembered.  Our conversation continued, not related to diabetes, but the impact of this dinner with family was altered, from just a few simple statements.


We have a lot of family & family friends with young children and/or expecting within the next year.  The topic of "sleeping in" on Christmas gets discussed and how no child ever sleeps in on December 25.  And that is when my mom and I pipe in with, "Well..."  I am the oldest grandchild on my father's side, and we have room in our house to host.  So my father's lone sister spent the night because really, who wants to miss a 3 year old on Christmas morning?  All four of my grandparents were also in attendance and the story goes that they were all awake and sitting in the living room, in front of the fireplace and the stockings and the evidence of Santa delivering his goodies, just waiting for precious little me to wake up.  I looked at my mother and said, "Was I three or four?"  And we both answered: I had to have been three because I wasn't allowed to sleep in post-diabetes-diagnosis.  One simple day, and all of a sudden a story has a specific date.

And What A Wonderful Year It Has Been

Last year, on the first Friday in December, I babysat for Boy & Girl Genius.  After they went to bed, I watched It's A Wonderful Life on TV.  Shortly before George yells "I want to live!" Mom & Dad Genius came back.  I sat down with Mom Genius at the kitchen table and they offered me my job!!  It's my first "big girl" job, and my first job out of college.  And what a wonderful year it has been:

• I moved to Boston with my best friend.  We found a steal of an apartment and it is a place where when I walk in the door, I instantly feel safe, secure & calm.  
• I connected with old friends, and they have become so close once again.
• We had a big St. Patty's Day party where all our friends came to see our apartment for the first time.  The next day I went into the hospital with DKA.  I was in the ICU for three days, until I had a nurse whose husband has diabetes and she told me that after 20 years, to go with my gut, and not what the ICU docs said.  I came home, scared & weak, but prepared to start anew.  I started anew in September when I jumped into the DOC and have not looked back.  
• I joined a sports club, where I joined a kickball team and met a few new people.  This is a big step in my life because I showed up all by myself without knowing anyone.
• I welcomed Rebel to the East Coast and welcomed her into my apartment for the summer.  We traveled to the beaches, Fenway, the North End, Connecticut, New Hampshire and lots and lots of good times.
• I bought my first car!
• I said goodbye to my grandfather for the last time. 
• I went out to Oregon and paid for my very first vacation.  I got to visit with friends that I didn't think I'd get to see this year, and I became a renewed person
• I started my blog and joined the DOC!
• I transferred from my parents insurance to my own.  I then found a PCP so that I could go to Joslin.  I'm finally being proactive in taking care of me!

December 8: Auld Lang Syne

Baking Cookies

I decided that this would be a good weekend to spend in NH.  There wasn't really much going on in Boston, so I headed home.  I started my day on Saturday in Boston with a run and a crazy BG drop (but I didn't go low), then drove up for the University of Oregon vs. Oregon State Civil War football game. I enjoyed good food, good company, and a great game with my parents and some friends.  On Sunday, I helped my mother decorate the house, and we went to pick out a Christmas tree, and we watched Eloise, and then we baked cookies.  We started with the gingerbread cookies, and then moved onto sugar cookies.  The child in me jumped at the opportunity for the sugar cookies because I got to use all the cookie cutters.  I made snowmen, santas, candy canes, bells and nutcrackers.  As a kid, my two most favorites were a large bell and large snowman.  They were my favorite because Mom would make a special exception for me to be able to eat those, even though it was closer to three starches.  They are the simplist of our cookie cutters, but they were mine.  And I could only make one of each.  As I compared them to our new cookie cutters, with fancy decorations, the "large" bell and snowman don't seem so large anymore.  I mentioned this to my mother, and she remembers this too.  It seemed a little crazy to both of us.  We kept on going though, but I still marvel at how big our cookies are.  And of course, the projected carb count/starches are running through my mind.  Along with, "how did she manage to give me a cookie worth 3 starches?"  We were almost ready to bake them, and we got out the sugar and sprinkles and other fun decorations.  I went to town with red and greens and whites and combos of all the above.  (I don't use the silver balls anymore though, because what's the point of decorating a cookie with something you're not supposed to eat?)  I kept some cookies free for my father though, since he doesn't have a sweet tooth.  And then mom says, "do you want me to make some frosting?"  As a kid, I can remember wanting frosting on the cookies more than anything else in the world.  But we never used frosting.  With the tennis team in college, we decorated cookies and mine were so intricate.  I didn't even notice.  Everyone else did, and when they mentioned it to me, all I could say was "I've never been able to decorate with frosting before."  So mom makes her frosting and she gets out her fancy frosting thing-a-ma-bobber and I start to decorate.  After a while, I'm sick of it, so we add red food coloring and then the rest green.  I've never been a marathon cookie maker, so after a while, I turn to mom and have her finish them.  As she's loading the last onto the drying rack, she says, "you know, we never did this when you were little."  "Yea, that darn diabetes and starches got in the way."  Our cookie baking tradition continues, but now we get to make them even better.

December 7: Happy Christmas

Happy Thanksgiving

I am thankful for my family.  I know that this sounds generic, but especially this year.  It has been an all over the place year, and it starts with my parents.  When I started my first full time job, they were both there the morning I left.  When I moved in, I didn't have to do much because they were there.  When I was in the hospital, they were both there every day.   When my grandfather passed away, well, they were there to help me then too, even though mom was dealing with her own grief too.  On my birthday, which was probably one of the toughest days to get through for me, they made it a good day.  These are the big things, but every single day, they are there to support me.  I am thankful for the rest of my family too.  Where to start?  Well, there's the grandparents, the aunts, the uncles, the cousins, the cousins once removed, the second cousins and the family friends who might as well be family.  I got to enjoy seven full months of this year with my grandfather this year.  I got to tell him about Boy & Girl Genius, and their funny stories.  I may be devastated to have lost my first family member this year, but I got 24 years with four grandparents. That's pretty damn sweet!  I am thankful to all my aunts, being there for support and my uncles to bring laughs.  Not that the uncles wouldn't support me, it's just that the aunts are better at it.  I got more support this year from them, through private emails and cards on the hard days, and congratulations on the good days.  My cousins are there for support, like most people have siblings.  I love them for all their quirks, support, laughs and uniqueness.  I don't know where I'd be today if it weren't for them (even though most of them are younger than me).  And family friends, well, they've been there since the beginning too.  Back when I was tired all the time from working and commuting way too far, they were there to love me and bring me back to life for Monday morning.  And now that I am living super close to work and loving every minute of that, I still make the time for them, and them for me, and always leave with a smile on my face. 

I am thankful for my friends.  They are my backbone, my support, my shoulder to cry on, my group to laugh with, they are my everything.   When I didn't want to commute from NH to Boston every day, I lived with my roommate and her parents.  I have reconnected with old friends this year, which I couldn't be more grateful for.  I have made new friends as well, and who can't help but love new friends!  When it seemed life was being filled with death, they were there to help me live my life to the fullest.  I am thankful that I have friends on both sides of the country, and that I was able to see all of them this year.  I  didn't think that would be possible, and it's the best gift I could've given myself.  When life seems to knock me down, these are the people who always know how to pick me back up.  

I am thankful for my job.  Granted there are days when my bed is comfortable and I don't actually want to get up, but I look forward to seeing Boy & Girl Genius every day.  I know that every day there will be someone to hold my hand, give me a hug and making me laugh.  This week I was astonished when Boy Genius was talking about the differences between carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide (he's seven).  Other subjects we have talked about include manual transmissions, weather patterns, and building a remote control, battery operated car.  And then I get to be Tinkerbell hugging stuffed animals with Girl Genius.  Sure, there are days when I walk through the door and look at my roommate and say "give me a drink!"  But they are few and far between.  Mom & Dad Genius are also very supportive.  When I was in the hospital, they almost brought the kids to visit me, but Boy Genius was sick too.  They brought me to Utah, where I got to ski incredible powder, and that helped me reconnect with an old friend who lives there.  When my grandfather passed away, they found places for the kids to go so I didn't need to be at work.  They are some of the nicest people I've ever met.  I thank God every day for the opportunity to work with this family.  

I hope everyone has a fabulous holiday, filled with people you love, food too bountiful, lots of laughs, and everything else you want.  HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Six Things I Want YOU to Know About Diabetes

1. Just like it takes a community to raise a child, it takes a community to take care of and support a person with Diabetes.
I wrote about independence; I am still serious about not wanting to do this by myself.  Technically, first and foremost should probably be my doctor.  But first and foremost are the friends I have with diabetes.  Diabetes is so much more than a broken pancreas, and on the bad days my friends are there to listen, support me, and possibly give advice.  My friends without diabetes are also supportive, and help me be just another person.  And of course there is my family who has been there since day 1.  It's the little things, like my cousins wearing blue last week, or having Fruit Pizza as a birthday cake, or helping me test my BG as a kid, or my uncle not having favors at his wedding, but instead donations were made in my name to the American Diabetes Association.  And of course there is Mom & Dad.  Words cannot describe what they have done & will do for me.  All these people make it possible to live with diabetes, and live fully.  Then of course there is the endocrinologist and that support system who is there to make sure I am up to date with my diabetes information, that I am taking care of myself for the long-term, and there to answer my questions when I have exhausted all other options. When I was little, there was the diabetes educator and the nutritionist.  Every year they helped us figure out a good diabetes schedule that worked for me around the school lunch schedule.  (Especially in eighth grade when I had lunch at 10:30 AM.)  There is the customer service reps at Minimed who help me when I have an alarm I'm not used to, or a broken pump.  There is my gym, the lady at the bar with a pump, the diabetes cookbooks (which I just get angry at because I feel they're trying to tell me what to eat), and last but not least, online support groups (which I'm definitely new to).  I decided to jump in with both feet, and I am whole-heartedly enjoying this decision.  Thank you to all who are making this a wonderful experience.


2.  Just because I act like it's no big deal, it IS a big deal.
I don't make a big deal about my diabetes.  I fight tooth and nail every day not to because I want to be treated like a normal person.  I don't want people telling me that I can only eat certain things, or that I can't participate in activities, or to use it as an excuse in a way that I am acting.  But it is a big deal, because it can affect everything.  The one day every year that I make a big deal about it is July 4.  And while I don't want people making a big deal about it every day, I want you to make a HUGE deal about it July 4.  Celebrating every anniversary has always been a big deal in my family because every year it is an accomplishment.  If it has been a bad year, then it means we survived and we're on to the next one.  If it was a good year, it is time to celebrate and give ourselves a pat on the back.  And hope for the same things in the coming year.  Every year is big; because every day is big.


3. Just because my A1C isn't perfect, doesn't mean I'm not working my ass off to get it there.
But first let me tell you, there have been times when I wasn't working my ass off.  It's hard to work hard for diabetes.  I test a lot.  I try to test every time before I drive. I try to keep track of my numbers and find patterns.  Once a month, I test in the middle of the night for a week.  I try to eat a healthy diet. I try to exercise as much as possible.  I use temporary basals when I exercise to prevent lows.  I like to be prepared and carry a humalog pen in my purse.  I have a bottle of tabs next to my bed, in my glove compartment, and at work.  These are general things that I have to do, and seem little in comparison to the testing and bolusing that goes on day after day.  It's hard, it really is.  And just because something worked one day, it doesn't mean that it's going to work the next day.  There is the difference between simple carbs and complex.  And complex carbs can affect my BGs differently as well, especially if accompanied by protein.  It's hard to remember how every single food I consume individually affects me.  There is a lot to keep track off, and yes, I work my ass off.  It doesn't always work out, but every day I have to try.  If it does work, I'm going to be pretty damn happy.  I work hard every single day.  I try every single day.  But that doesn't mean that it's going to work.  Don't judge, especially based on one number.


4.  There is a definitive Before & After.
My first memory is in the hospital.  I remember Aunt Shaunna walking me around the hospital in my red wagon.  I know that my Aunt Cathy gave me a teddy bear dressed as a doctor who I named Dr. Cindy after my mother.  I remember standing in the pantry (in all it's glorious greenness) not being allowed to take a sip of my father's Coke.
There are stories that I know about and ask my mother for more information.  Like the Christmas Party where all the kids locked themselves in my room.  We don't have new locks, we have fancy, intricate keys (that match the look of a 100 year old house) and we were too young to figure out how to then unlock the door (and the "older" kids had just gone downstairs to get food).  Dad had to get the ladder out, climb up to my window and break the window to get in.  And the simple question that I asked, "Mom how old was I when we locked ourselves in my room?"  "Well, I know you didn't have diabetes, so three."  I found a picture of me at an Independence Day parade, and asked the question, "Could this have been the day?"  "Well this guy behind you has a Coors, so we're in Colorado for Uncle Peter's wedding.  Plus, you were a brat that day so I wasn't taking your picture."  It's amazing to me how one day can determine a memory, an emotion, and so much more, like the rest of my life.


5.  If you're busy and don't have time for diabetes, too bad; it's still there.
I've had this lovely friend for 21 years: without a vacation.  Around the fourteen year mark, I was fed up.  I suppose it had been building, but no one really knew.  Camp Carefree was the closest thing to a vacation I ever had, and I had it every summer for two weeks from 1994-2002.  I was prepared to go back in 2003, and ready too.  But it wasn't in the cards for me that year and I was devastated.  It wouldn't have been the same; it would have been my first summer as a counselor (I would've been giving kids their diabetes vacation, not getting my own).  I fought tooth & nail to get back that summer, and so did my mother.  Instead I started volunteering at the local elementary school with their summer program.  In August, I left for college and tried out for the tennis team.  I returned home a few days later, only to return again for classes.  I had a few friends from high school there (this was not the reason I chose the school), but that was it.  I wanted to be a good college student, but my shyness took control.  In that time, my diabetes control also went downhill.  I had the pump, so I was always getting insulin, and that's pretty much how I took care of it.  I had been taking care of it my entire life, so ignoring it for a little while would be okay, right?  Absolutely wrong.  Shortly before Thanksgiving in 2003, I was admitted to the ER in Newport, then sent to Providence since there were no endocrinologists in Newport.  At the time of admittance, my BG was 789, and the nurse gave me regular ginger ale.  I was in the ICU, then a regular medical floor.  And then I went back to school.  As I was leaving the hospital a week later, I was ready to be a good patient.  I was turning my life around; but I wasn't ready for that.  As soon as I got back, I reverted to similar habits.  Although, I was in constant contact with my endocrinologist.  I kept living and moving and going, but my diabetes has never been the same.  I tried really hard.  But it is hard.  To be prepared for everything, always.  To tell people you don't know very well that you've got to stop and test, when you're worried about fitting in.  I've been working on it, but college & diabetes: I just didn't know how to do them both.  I exercised off and on to help me.  I always ate pretty healthy.  It was just the logs and the keeping track of patterns.  Now that I'm in the real adult world, I knew I needed to change things.  Unfortunately, it took another trip to the ER in March, and I got back into running.  But the summer, and friends, and hearing about so many children with diabetes with other health issues, and I've gotten back into it.  I started testing.  Testing more means it's easier to find patterns. And when it's easier to find patterns, it's easier to stay in tighter control.  But it wasn't easy.  Now that I'm in the habit of testing, it still isn't easy.  It never will be easy.  I like to think that I've taken my life vacation and I'll be able to go on for the rest of my life as a "good diabetic," but who knows.  It's only been a few months and sometimes I still think it would be easier to go back, but I know I wouldn't feel as good as I do in this moment of my life.  And maybe when I want a vacation in the future, I can look back here and see the trouble it caused.


6.  It is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
There are days when I sing this from the rooftops, and days when I remind myself that I was singing it from the rooftops.  But it is absolutely true.  I learned as a young child what affects my body (and probably others' too, they just don't have to monitor themselves), such as the change in seasons, or time changes.  My parents brought me to a support group at the hospital once a month where I was able to meet other children with diabetes.  I met a great friend too, and she lived in my town.  We became friends in first grade, and went to school together until eighth grade, and camp together for 10 years.  We went together that first summer, not knowing what it would be like, not knowing who else would be there, not even knowing if we'd like it.  We LOVED it.  We met our best friends.  I've spoken before about my friends from camp, well here is where I met them.  How can I not be thankful to the one thing that introduced me to my best friends?  When I needed to find something outside of NH, I found a diabetes camp in Oregon where I went for two summers.  I found more dia-buddies out there.  The best, most supportive friends in my life came from the pure fact that I have diabetes.  It is, and always will be the best thing that has ever happened to me.  Sometimes I just need to be reminded of it.


Here are my six things.  If you want to know what other diabetic's six things are, go here!

A Seriously Intense (Diabetes) Day

When I went to bed on Friday night, I was 75, so I trekked downstairs and grabbed some juice.  At my parents house there are these small orange cups that are the perfect size for a low BG correction.  On Saturday, I woke up, and I already felt stressed out.  That lovely meter confirmed it: 329.  I knew that it would be a tough day to get through, but I didn't think the stress would start before I even got out of bed.  I rolled out of bed and got in the shower.  I had waited for my bolus to finish before jumping in, so post shower I was 286.  I get dressed, do my hair, eat breakfast and then change my outfit.  My mother didn't approve (and I can't blame her) because my pants were much shorter than I remembered, so they looked rediculous with the shoes that I brought.  But maybe Grampa did that for me since my grandmother layed out his clothes for him every single day they were married of sixty-three years?  We get ready to leave to go pick up Grammy and I'm 225.  We get in the car and we're not even on the second road and I start crying.  I mean, haven't I cried enough, I thought I would be sorta okay on Saturday.  (There was the day/week he died, the day of the memorial service & our birthday has passed) It's mom piping up saying "Please tell me someone remembered to bring my father."

Those tears were a river down my face.  I knew that it was just going to be a long diabetes day.  I told myself I wasn't going to worry about it anymore and just survive the day.  We picked up my grandmother, who is seemingly okay.  I now am sitting in the front with Dad and Grammy is chit-chatting away, which is good since it sorta takes my mind off of what we're going to do.  We get into N. Andover, and we stop at the grocery store to pick up a bouquet of flowers.  I test again, 200.  Actually, now that I've prepared myself for an awful diabetes day, 200 wasn't so bad.  Mom gets the flowers and we're on our way.  As we're driving the final minutes to the cemetary, this song came on the radio and I fought those tears tooth & nail.

We got to the cemetery and met Aunt Cathy, Uncle Jack, Andrew & Ashton.  I see the Dea family plot for the first time in my life (as far as I can remember).  We get out of the car, get the flowers, and on the far side of the large family stone is a cooler.  Aunt Cathy passes out shot glasses and fills them with Jim Beam and we all take a shot for Grampa.  Jim Beam was his drink of choice (or Bloody Mary's) and Grampa, I love you, but holy crap, how did you drink that?! And Grammy had about 3.  "We" shared stories and memories and oh dear, those tears just let loose again, when Aunt Cathy looked over at me, looked at Grampa's space between his father & brother and said "Dad, you'd be so proud of me, I didn't even cry!"  And then she started crying too.  Everyone spoke, everyone shared memories, everyone said, "I love you."  Except for me.  I knew that if I spoke, words would not form.  I may not be as calm as Grampa, but we are connected in a way I can't explain except for 09/12.  We took his flag from the Veterans and staked the flowers in front of his site, and left to head off to lunch.

 I tested in the car, and I expected to be back over 300, but I was 179.  We drove around N. Andover for a little while, to the house where Grampa grew up and then back downtown to the bar we were going to eat at (it opened at 11:30, so it was our only option).  While I wanted to share in toasting Grampa again with a Bloody Mary, I don't like Bloody Mary's so I opted for an Irish Coffee.  (Grampa, I think I'm going to have one every September 12 from now on, okay?  I wanted to honor you with one of your drinks, but I can't stomach those!)  We all ate our lunch and departed ways.  It was so good to see everyone, and it was good to share memories.  I shared stories about Girl Genius & Boy Genius because I knew I wouldn't cry if I talked about them.  When we got back in the car to drive back to NH, I had to focus on thinking about things beside family, because I knew those tears would start flowing again.  The stress of it all hit me too, and I was exhausted.  I think Grammy may have fallen asleep for a little bit, and when we got to Bedford, we went downstairs with Grammy to give her a few checks and things, and then we headed on our way.  I could not think of a better place for Grammy to live, but I just wanted to put my feet up, and her apartment is not that type of place.  When we got back in the car I was 253.  At this point, nothing was going to surprise me.

Dad stopped at Dunkins for Mom & I, and that helped, but I really just wanted a nap.  I tried to escape many times to my room, but that wood stove was going, so I tried downstairs instead.  No such luck.  I made a delicious treat to bring to Amanda's, and I helped Mom do the dishes and I got "yelled" at for sitting at the computer and other things.  I took the time to play my music and straighten my hair, and before getting ready to go the neighbor's Halloween party, I was 320.  Again, I wasn't surprised. there was stress, tiredness, and tears.  I bolused then put together a ski bunny costume to wear to the garage party.  I ate delicious food and I saw a really cute bunny, an excited Dorothy, a creepy cat, and I sat with a game & liquor store.

Paige and her parents got there, and soon after Paige & I left.  I changed into my Venus costume and off we headed to Amanda's.  On the way there, I was 158.  I'm not quite sure how that happened, but I was focused on costumes & other Halloween fun, so I kind of forgot about the morning.  I asked Paige to join me, but in the middle of the afternoon, I texted her to see if she wouldn't mind being the DD.  Even sober, I wasn't really in any condition to drive.  I felt guilty asking, but she is one of the friends who knew what I was doing on Saturday morning, and she has been quite possibly the most supportive friend in the past year, so of course she didn't mind.  We got to Amanda's where it was insanely decorated, including a fog machine.  Considering they asked everyone to bring a Halloween dish, there was a lot of food as well, so about two hours later I was 238.  Not too bad considering the rest of the day.  I bolused for a little of the correction and continued on my way.  Before leaving, I tested again, and I felt great!  That 333 certainly showed me though.  Another half bolus and I was on my way.  Leaving good friends and tough day behind.