Marathon Monday

Yesterday Girl Genius and I walked over to see the Boston Marathon on Heartbreak Hill.  We were later than the rest of the neighborhood, because I wasn't planning on being there for the elite runners.  So off we went, with our sunglasses, smiles, warm jackets and me with a backpack full of snacks, water, glucose and meter.  And as we left I had a really awesome BG of 304 mg/dL.  And I felt every single piece of it.  The past two days have been a fricken' roller coaster ride, and it's starting to catch up with how I'm feeling.  So as we walked up the street, we had this conversation:

Heartbreak Hill

Me: Now, I have to talk to you about something.
GG: Okay
Me: My sugar number is really high right now, so I'm not feeling very good, so I need you to listen extra well when we get there.
GG: Okay
Me: I think that it should get better, but if it doesn't, we might need to leave.  If that happens I'll see you if you can stay with your friends, but I just want you to know that this might happen.
GG: Okay

My blood sugars came down, (so much so that I was low), and we stayed until she wanted to leave.  I don't let diabetes interfere a lot, and it didn't.  But having that conversation broke my heart.

It Started as Just a Cute Story

Yesterday was a crazy day.  

After dropping Girl Genius off at school, I was over 370.  An hour later after finishing #sweatbetes at the gym, I was 70.  Then 50s.  Then 30s.  Then 50s.  Then 80s.  Then 200s.

This is Coffee

I wasn't a happy camper.  Except that I was because it was sunny and warm and I get to go skiing at my favorite of all weekends up at Sunday River this weekend.  I would try to talk with Girl Genius and the words coming out of my mouth made no sense whatsoever.  We needed to go to the dry cleaners, and Starbucks is right across the street.  I wanted something, but I'm limiting myself to one cup of coffee per day during Lent, and I knew what I was going to order walking in.  And what did I order?  My usual coffee.  And as we're driving back, Girl Genius is talking about how Coffee makes his own coffee if we're not at the house.  When we're at the dry cleaners, or school, or the grocery store, or this, or that, I just zoned.  It can be mentally challenging to follow the logic of a really smart 4 year old!  And then I hear 

"juice. Because he has diabetes too.  And sometimes he goes low.  And he wears an insulin pump like you.  But when he doesn't have his insulin pump on, he takes shots until we can get to the store to get him another one."

Seriously child?!  I mean, you know I take juice if I'm low.  And you know that when we eat snack or lunch I push buttons on the pump.  But you put all that together for the dog?!  And I know that imaginative play is a way for children to help themselves understand something really complicated.  So not only is she asking questions, noticing my diabetes, paying attention when I talk to her, but she is actively trying to understand it.  

And then I'm thinking about it.  And I relate diabetes to a foreign language.  I took Spanish & French in junior high, German in high school and American Sign Language in college.  And I know very little of any of these.  Why?  Because I don't use them on a regular basis.  Diabetes for nonPWDs must be the same thing.  You hear us get angry, frustrated, and flabbergasted trying to explain diabetes.  But I don't remember or understand things I don't use a lot.  So why would people who don't experience it a lot understand it?  When it comes to explaining diabetes, I am really patient with Girl Genius, because, ya know, she's four.  But maybe that's just how it needs to be done.  Answer people's questions as they have them, not when we want them to know.  Let's all find a new friend who doesn't know much about diabetes and through the course of getting to know them better, they'll know diabetes better, and they'll be able to correct that third person, and so on.  Baby steps.  I'm taking baby steps.  Who's with me?

Diabetes Success

When my week started like this, and ended the same way, it was time to write down, print & fax my numbers over to Joslin.  That was on a Friday, and I wasn't able to talk to my nurse until Wednesday or Thursday.  She had me change my overnight basal, my sensitivity factor and some advice.  She suggested that I seem to be extra sensitive to insulin when my blood sugar is super high.  Over 400 is how I'm interpreting super high for right now.  So she suggested that if I get that high again, to not take a full bolus. So on Friday when I was 485, I plugged it into my pump and before I sent it on it's way, I decreased it by 10 percent.  I was a little skeptical about this, but, it worked!  When I got home from work, I felt low and was hanging out between 65-75, so I had two juice boxes.  But that is the lowest I ever went!  There were no BGs in the thirties.  There was no bottoming out.  There was no scary low.  It just was a baby low, and my BG even leveled out enough to go out for a beer.  Friday's correction was a diabetes success!

Plummet on the Bike

I went back to the gym last week.  Finally.  And since it's been a while, I decided to ease back into it and use the bike.  I got on a fancy bike with a screen that simulates a road, and it was really cool.  After about 15 minutes, I felt a little weird, but decided to keep going until my loop was done.  After 4 miles, I felt really weird.  And my loop was done, so I cleaned off the machine and went for my meter in the locker room.  That trusty little pink machine blinked a nice bright 34 mg/dL back at me.  I opened my little gluco-shot and poured it down.  It doesn't feel like it works, but I don't know if it does or not.  Since I was 574 before going in, it was all I had with me, and it was my last strip.  I don't like to be in the shower while I'm low, so I got dressed and went out to my car.  I was in the parking garage texting people: I'm in my car stabbing juice boxes with pens and eating Valentines hearts.  The juice box in there didn't have a straw so stabbing it was my only option.  Since I didn't have another test strip, I just kept digging in to my bag of Valentine's hearts.  I didn't feel low at 34, so I was nervous to drive.  I think I ate those hearts for about 20 minutes when I started my car and drove down the road to Target for some juice.  Do you know that at 8PM at night, everyone either wants to be awake forever (caffeine) or they think they're overweight (diet).  All I wanted was a single bottle of juice.  It was not to be found.  Instead I ended up with gummy peaches and gatorade.  Can you guess which I chose to consume  before driving again?  I'll give you a hint: the gatorade is still in my car.  I get back to my apartment (and get a parking space!!), and I get my new bottle of strips and I'm 167.  And all is right with the world...

Or so I thought until I wanted to go to bed and I was over 400.  I stayed up another hour, was back in the 300s, and THEN I went to bed.

I'm Going to Let the Pictures Do the Talking

FRIDAY

SATURDAY

"You need to call your doctor and tell 'em you're broken"

SUNDAY

Morning Commute

As I was getting in bed on Tuesday night, my BG was 395 mg/dL.  Um, helloooooo...where did you come from?  There's something in me that "knows" my site is okay.  So I get out my pen and I take my correction, and I add an alarm to wake up at 3AM.  That beep beep beep woke me up so suddenly that I thought it was my morning alarm.  I turn on the light, and realize that I'm 53 mg/dL.  So not only did the correction work, but my pump is also working.  I grab 2 juice boxes and suck those down, and roll over and go back to sleep.  When my alarm goes off at 6AM, I'm 56 mg/dL.  So now I need to walk through the apartment for juice since I used my others during the middle of the night.  And then I hear the thunder and remember that I'm in the middle of a snow storm.  And I look out the window and my street isn't even plowed yet.  I mentally prepare for the walk to work.  But I'm coming off of at least three hours of being low, so I have twice the amount of oatmeal I usually do.  I pack a backpack of everything I'll need for the day (including an extra change of clothes, and my phone charger), and I get bundled in ski clothes as I get ready for my walk.  On the news, it seems like all they're talking about is how no one is on the road, which is good since there were some white-out conditions at times.  As I'm getting ready for the walk, I set a temp basal of 40% for one hour (hoping beyond anything that it doesn't take longer than an hour).   I was 143 mg/dL before I left.

My walking outfit

As I started on my walk, I was paranoid I was going to be plowed.  But it was so beautiful.  I even got about a half mile of high knees in before I decided to screw the sidewalks and walk in the road.  As I was on the sidewalk though, I came under attack.  And I went into fight position to the best of my ability.  But what actually happened is that the tree I was walking under decided to let me have his snow.  I looked around to see if anyone saw me, and then started laughing, and appreciating the beauty.  I walked halfway to work, when I got a text from Mom Genius that she found a ride to work, so to call Dad Genius to see what he wants to do.  I step onto a side street and give him a call, and he decides he'll call again at noon after the storm is over to decide if he's going to work.  So I turned around and walked home.  

walking back to my apartment on the "busy" road

As I was walking, there was a woman waiting for the bus. "ISN'T THIS BEAUTIFUL?!" And I yell back "YES!"  I mean, not having the ability to use my car kinda stinks, but walking through something so beautiful is incredible.  I get back to my apartment, de-snow gear myself and test.  And I'm 137 mg/dL.  And the thought: How the hell did I do that?  Wait, I did that?  I'm amazing! And there must have been something magical about yesterday's snow because I stayed below 150 mg/dL all day.

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?

Sick Day

When I woke up on December 26, there was something not right.  I rolled over and tested and I was 344, but still, there was something else.  I made my way downstairs, found my ketone strips and back upstairs.  Holy crap, that thing turned deep dark purple.  I had large ketones.  So now: do I feel gross because I have ketones or, do I have ketones because I am sick?

I don't look this cute sick anymore

I went downstairs and got out my phone (calculator) along with my pump, a piece of paper and a pen.  I figured out my correction, wrote that down.  I figured out 20% of my Total Daily Dose (TDD), wrote that down.  I was hungry, so I figured out my correction for my bagel and coffee and wrote that down.  I got out my insulin pen and dialed up 25 units of insulin.  I think the last time I took that much, it was in the form of Lantus.  I sat down in front of the wood stove and ate my bagel with my father and double fisted water and coffee.  When my mother got back from visiting my grandmother, I told her about the ketones and the not feeling good and I plopped my butt on the big comfy chair.  I finished watching Julie & Julia, and then I turned some other movie on until it was time to watch my boys with my dad.  I was a little bit nervous when the Bills scored first, but not really.  Dad even got me noodle soup.  I grabbed a pillow and I grabbed the hassock and I was basically laying down across the chair (so comfortable).  Throughout the morning, I was drinking tea and testing my ketones and before the game started, I was at negative, but I still didn't feel good.  I was forcing myself to stay awake, and I would "just rest" during half-time.  I fell asleep just before the end of the second quarter, woke up at some point during the second half, noticed the score was 31-3, and then fell back asleep.  I woke up after the game was over, and my mother looking me in the face and I was wondering who won the game.  So the game is over and I wander over to the table to test, and a beautiful 36 is staring me back in the face.  "mom.  fill up a big glass with juice. please. now." The incoherent-ness in me made my mother listen to me.  (The last time I demanded something from my mother and she listened was....)  I drank my juice, and I sat at the kitchen table.  I was coherent enough to know that if I plopped back down in the comfy chair, I felt like I'd fall asleep again.  My parents were getting ready to go to a party (and I wanted to be there too!) but I stayed in my pajamas, heated up some dinner, watched more movies and ate lots of food (without testing).  I was up in the 200s, then bolused realizing I forgot earlier.  Those damn lows mess with the brain!!  On Monday, I was feeling much better, although the diabetes was still crazy. :/

"I just want you to know I'm always here." - Diabetes

During the every day mundane tasks, diabetes is still there.  I found that out today the hard way.  I have been on a roller coaster for the past few days, so the times I've been testing throughout the day has also been on a rise.  Today I started kinda high, almost low, then bounced back up, and kept going.  As I bolused on the way back from getting Girl Genius, I got the "oh so fun" No Delivery alarm.  I was on the rise and definitely needed my bolus.  I grabbed my pen, attached the needle and primed it.  As I pulled up to a red light, I yanked up my sweatpants and got my pen all set up.  This light is notoriously long, so I wasn't worried, I put the needle in, and the light turns green.  I plunge the pen faster than I ever have before, all while taking my foot off the brake and trying to step on the gas, and steer.  I get around the corner, and I take the pen out, shake my pant leg back down and continue on my way.  By the time I get back to the Genius household, my BG is coming down.  It may not have been the smartest or safest way to get what I needed.  But it worked, and I got the outcome I wanted.  After picking up Boy Genius from school, I changed my site and the rest of the day has been "fine."


By "fine," I mean that I found out that Diabetes Awareness Month actually means: Have fun on this roller coaster ride!

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.

Time flies when...

On Monday night I had a sweet spike before going to bed (no pun intended), 344.  I took a shot and went to sleep.  When my alarm went off yesterday morning, it felt as though no time had passed.  And even though I haven't woken up low recently, I knew right away that I was.  I couldn't even find my phone to turn off my alarm.  I knocked over all my books trying to turn on my light.  I hit my water bottle and almost let it crash right onto my pillow. I fumbled with my meter case, dropped the bottle of test strips, and finally tested.  It felt like 5 minutes had passed.  And then I turned off my alarm.  I was 54 so I knocked more things over trying to get my juice box, then stood up to turn on my light.  As I fumbled back to bed I knew there was no way that getting in the shower was a safe decision.  I went back into my bed, turned on the news and sat there for a moment.  I thought I didn't take anything, so I uncovered my lap and went to the refrigerator to get more juice.  I emptied the entire top shelf to get my juice (which was frozen), so I grabbed some of my roommates and gulped it down.  As I turned back towards the fridge from the sink, I couldn't figure out why all the beverages were on the counter, and then I realized that my juice had been frozen.  I started to put it all back together, and headed back to my room.  As I was walking in, my second alarm was going off.  Somehow, 25 minutes passed.

Adrenaline

In a regular person world, Tuesday was a jam-packed, keep on rushing with adrenaline type of day.  (And suddenly as I'm writing this, my blood sugars make sense.)  I woke up, ran outside to move my car so it wouldn't get towed because of street cleaning, zombie-d my way back inside, tried to clean my apartment, changed my pump site, tried to find a new PCP (I need a referral for a new endo), then at 11:30 needed to pick up Girl Genius.  We go back to the Genius household but must be quiet because Mom Genius is working upstairs.  At 12:30 we pick up Boy Genius from school and we go out to lunch.  (Mom Genius wants us to be quiet since she is working and since I have both kids on Tuesdays, Tuesday lunches are usually pretty loud.)  We go to Bertucci's for lunch (where I swear they hire based on looks, but the service was also good, so I'm okay with this), from there we drop off/pick up the dry cleaning, run to iParty for a Harry Potter costume for Boy Genius (for those of you who don't know him, this is THE perfect costume), run home, pick up Mom Genius, and we all go to ballet for open house.  I am not a bad driver, and I'm a very calm driver with the kids in the car, but I get nervous as all hell when I have to drive Mom Genius.  We get to ballet, and there are shrieks because Dad Genius is there.  All day (it seems) I've been getting the question, "Is Daddy going to be at ballet?"  We all go in to see ballet class.  It's not like a real ballet class since all the kids are so darn excited their mommies & daddies can watch.  After ballet, we all pile back in my car and as soon as we walk in the door, Mom Genius leaves for work.  Girl Genius & I have a snack and then it's upstairs for a nap.  Boy Genius works on his homework then takes a shower.  I cook their dinner.  I wake Girl Genius up and she did NOT want to wake up.  Her naps have just been shortened to 45 minutes since she isn't sleeping well at night, but she isn't enjoying these 45 minute spurts either.  She plays with Boy Genius for about 10 minutes when Mom Genius gets home from work.  And explosion of screams and tears.  We had an over-tired, severely in need of hugs, Girl Genius.  And my work day was over.  The adrenaline was still pumping through me, so I decided to scan some old pictures at CVS.  As soon as that was done, it was time to end this fast-paced day. 

  

I had no choice but to love football

My numbers in the morning were okay.  After I got to work, my sugars started to climb, and then they hung out in the area of the 300's for about five hours.  The first I bolused with my pump, then after that, I bolused with a needle, and still nothing.  I was also drinking water, rather than my desired coffee, just to help.  Around 5:30, I felt thirsty as though I was probably 500.  I was ready to bolus without testing, but decided to give that handy dandy meter a shot.  115.  All day I didn't feel high, but I was, and then when I felt high, I couldn't ask for a better number.  I was great the rest of the night.  I felt low a little bit, but never actually went low. 

 I was thinking about it yesterday, and I couldn't figure out why my sugars were so high.  I was thinking about it this morning and still couldn't figure it out.  Not until I sat down to write this, and actually started writing and saw the word adrenaline did it click.  Adrenaline raises my blood sugar.  A day that was fueled by adrenaline: well now it makes sense.  Maybe next time I will be able to figure this out during the adrenaline high, and give myself just a teensy bit extra insulin and I can have a good diabetes day, along with a busy work day. 

Going Back

About a month ago, I got invited to go to Oktoberfest with my friends in Newport, RI for this weekend.  I am the type  of person that will always choose to do things with my family or friends. I've been looking forward to this weekend and these friends because I haven't seen them in quite a while.  As last Friday rolled around, I was getting a little nervous. 

In 2003, I was just like most of my other friends really excited to go off to college.  I was off to Salve Regina University with two other girls from my high school.  I can look back now and say that I was not ready to go to college; it is blatantly obvious.  Back then though, I was obviously ready.  My academics suffered, my social life suffered, but most importantly, my diabetes suffered.  Shortly before Thanksgiving, I got really sick, throwing up everywhere and the Resident Director decided that enough was enough and I needed to go to the hospital.  Off I went in the ambulance to the Newport Emergency Room where my blood sugar was recorded as 789.  We later learned that my insulin had expired, but if I had been more on top of it, I could have prevented such a high high.  From there I went to Hasbro Children's Hospital in Providence where I was in the ICU and surrounded by diabetes educators.    I had high school friends calling every day, my parents with me day & night, and I was determined to get better.  That was my diabetes rock bottom. I went back and "finished" my semester, only to return to pack up my things.  I can't really blame it on anything but me, but if a lot of things had been different, maybe it wouldn't have happened?  I can't be sure.

I've been back a time or two before, but always with people who knew my SRU history.  I am not proud of that time of my diabetes history, and I don't like to talk about it, so these friends had no idea.  My life since they have been in my life has been positive.  I'm not saying that my diabetes control has always been good, because I'd be lying if I said that.

 

It's good to have a good memory from Newport, but it's still the one place that I get nervous about every time I go.

Old Counselor

I was worried about what to write today, and I didn't think I was going to find inspiration anywhere. Yesterday's sugars were like bookends. I woke up low, was over 200 most of the day, then I crashed before I went to bed (including low at 2AM). I was frustrated and not sure of what to think anymore because there didn't seem to be any pattern to it. In my frustration, I pleaded with the diabetes in facebook to get better before this weekend. (My longest dia-buddy is visiting this weekend!) I'm getting ready to turn off my computer when I see the little red "1." Someone commented on my status asking if I'm okay.
This isn't just any "someone." This was my very first camp counselor. She was my rock at camp those years when I needed someone to look up to. The first one to make me feel like going to camp wasn't going to kill me. She's the reason my first dream job was a camp counselor. Her asking if I'm okay, well, it melts the frustration away. I don't know if she knows it, but thank you for making such a difference in my life. You still help me, 17 years later.