Run of the Raging Blood Sugars
When the recommendations for T1D in sport are largely based on a non-diabetes population, it’s high time we call them out and start telling them what we need.
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The invisibility cloak of Dear Diabetes
About a month and a half ago, my feminine ego was kicked in the teeth. I had just got on Skytrain. It was during rush hour and it was busy, not a seat to be had. I grabbed hold of the bar nearest the door and pulled out my cell phone, as so many of us socially inept souls tend to do. The woman in one of the priority seats, designated for seniors or those with disabilities, sprang up and tapped me on the arm. “You can have my seat,” she offered. I smiled and said no, no I was fine. She insisted. It was then that I realized I was wearing a dress with an empire waist. Oh. No. No, I am fine, I said, my face flushing. I have not worn that dress since. Fast forward to today and I wish I was wearing that dress. Again, I
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5: My baby, forever you will be
Dear Little Ring, The other day you came home with an eraser in hand. You were determined to erase the “white lines” on my legs. You scrubbed and you scrubbed. “It’s not working,” you said, your eyes wide with confusion. It took everything I had not to burst out laughing as I explained why stretch marks would not erase away. Dear child, you crack me up. Every day. Tomorrow you are five years old. I’m not ready for that. People warned me the time would go fast. I knew it would. But still, I’m not ready for you to be a big boy. My baby, forever you will be. I don’t want to lose our moments: your squishy hand warm in mine; your emphatic, operatic moowhah smooches; our nose-to-nose kisses; the pointing of your finger to your cheek silently calling on mama for a tender kiss; your Oscarsized hugs; the
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Diabetes vs. Cortisone
This has not been a good week for me and Dear Diabetes. In the last five days I have had 55-60 total units of insulin shooting through my body. Of that, 30 units is continuos basal. That’s a lot. To put it into perspective, normally I average 17-21 total daily units of which 12 is basal. Right now, I am triple dosing. Yet, my blood sugars are high. Abnormally, dangerously high, unable to crack below 13 mmol most of those days. Generally, I am rarely above 10.0 mmol. The resistance is strong. The culprit: a cortisone injection in my right hip joint that was administered Thursday morning to counter the effects of a labrel tear. Apparently it is well known in the medical field that cortisone (and other steroids for that matter) can often wreak havoc on diabetes management. Yet, I was never made aware. Not from the surgeon who
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Planes, Trains and Automobiles – re-imagined
Again with the timing of appropriateness. Twelve years ago yesterday, after about a month and a half of tinkering with the idea, Big Ring and I made our togetherness official. For 12 years, he has been my number one cheerleader, my number one support, my number one bestest friend of all. The things he has done for me, the love he has given me, the specialness of him, I cannot imagine life without his hand in mine. And the story I share today is a perfect example of his greatness. Let’s go back about five or six months. Back to those strained months before I got into dietetics. I told Big Ring if I got in he would have to throw me a party, a big party, a huge party. This was going to be a party for me, but also very much for everyone that helped me. And there
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