Normal

Alright, so I fell off the band wagon and disappeared for a while. What’s the big deal? My life got flipped, turned upside down, I guess you can say. Life completely changed on me and I took off on yet another journey that has taken me up to this very moment. And this—this is an important moment.

I came home from the hospital yesterday. I was there for a few days. DKA again. Second time in the past 6 months. I believe that to be the fourth time overall since being diagnosed in 2009. This last time, the Diabetes nurse came to my room telling me I was her top priority because my A1c was a 15. Completely off her chart (Something around a 400 average blood sugar over the last 3 months). She said it was the highest A1c she had ever seen. After talking for a brief time, it began to dawn on me more and more what the underlying issue was. 

It was my depression that was killing me.

After I got home yesterday, I thought more about it. I thought back to every doctor, nurse, family member and friend who lectured me over and over again to take care of myself. That if I continue like this, I will end up—well, let’s just say, it won’t be good. I would matter-of-factly explain to them that I knew what to do. I knew how to take care of myself. That I probably knew more about Type 1 Diabetes than they did. And honestly, this was all true, although no one would ever believe me. I would tell them all this and then explain to them that I just wouldn’t. Needless to say, they got angry and frustrated with me. They couldn’t understand why. No one ever really bothered to dig a little deeper and figure it out with me. I barely knew why.

I believe I have figured it out now. It isn’t that I want to die. It isn’t that I want to be sick. And I certainly don’t want to end up in the hospital all the time. 

I just want to be normal again.

Normal to me is not having it all together. Normal is not testing my blood sugar all the time. Normal is not shooting myself up with insulin every time I want to eat. Normal people don’t do that. I pushed it aside. I made myself sick day after day until I couldn’t take it anymore and finally gave in. But the thing with giving in—it was me admitting that I wasn’t normal. When I finally stuck myself with a needle, it was almost like me punishing myself for having it.

I would cry when I did it.

I know how backwards that sounds. I understand I am nuts. But now that I have realized this, it has given me a new outlook. Normal is being healthy and living as well as you can by doing whatever it is that you have to do to do so. Everyone has their ailments. Some minor, some major. People with horrible vision don’t walk around without their glasses just because “normal” people don’t wear them. They put them on so that they can live normally. People don’t walk around making themselves suffer—at least they shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t. 

I do want to live a healthy life. I don’t want to punish myself anymore. I’m done with the hospital. I am done with DKA. I am going to finally start working on me again. It’s about time.

Ciao.

Avoiding The Burnout

In my most recent post, I talked all about my battle with Depression and how it is effecting my Diabetes. Let me just tell you, it hasn't changed much since. I am still lacking the heart and soul that was previously keeping me going strong. I know I need to find it again, somehow, because my health severely depends on my constant effort. I talked to one of my nurses yesterday and told her everything. The phrase that stuck out in my mind when she responded was "Diabetes Burnout". I thought to myself "Well that can't be good..."

I had heard of this before. It is when a Diabetic gets so fed up with the constant day-to-day, hour-to-hour management of their disease, that they just simply give up. It might last a little while, and for some, it may last forever. Now, she reassured me that I wasn't to that point...yet, but if I don't jump back, there is a good possibility that I could find myself in that predicament. I refuse.

I ended up doing a little research online about the matter to try to find ways of avoiding the burnout. I found a little information here from the Joslin Diabetes Center. It helped a little bit, but I thought maybe others could benefit from the tips it gives.

What I really need is to focus. I need to be in touch with my nurses more often, because they are my cheerleaders. I found that going to all those appointments, as much as they were a pain in the ass to get to, were truly helping me along. The Diabetic Online Community is also a huge help, as I have previously discussed. The only downside is that I cannot talk to them face to face, and sometimes, face to face is what I need.

I need to do whatever it takes to not burn myself out. Has anyone else ever fell into this hole? How did you get out of it? Please, let me know! Tell me your stories! I would love to hear them.

Thanks for reading and thanks for the comments!

In Need Of A Helping Hand

Depression. This word has been a huge part of my life for almost 15 years. It comes and goes, but it always dwells deep inside of me and every so often, it screams to come out. Sometimes I let it, sometimes I don't. This time, it took over and didn't even let me choose.

When I get depressed, the signs are very recognizable. The dishes pile up. The clothes remain unwashed. My spirit and life disappear for a while. I get overwhelmed and the longer things go on this track, the harder it is for me to bounce back. This is not a good thing for a diabetic. Not at all.

Type 1 Diabetes can be overwhelming for anyone, depression or not. There is so much to think about--so much to worry about. Add depression into the mix, you've got yourself a problem.

I'm not sure if it is the diabetes that is causing my depression this time, or if it is just depression itself. It may be that my sugars being so high lately is causing me to lose hope, or if my depression is causing my high blood sugars. Either way, it is getting harder and harder everyday for me to focus. It is to the point where I don't even want to eat because I don't want to have to deal with giving myself insulin. I don't even want to check my blood sugar level because I am afraid to see what it is. It all just makes me want to cry and hide away in my bedroom.

People ask me why I don't see anyone about depression or why I don't take medication for it. The thing is, every time I have seen someone, I always end up answering my own questions, and I feel like I am paying them for nothing. I just feel like I can always just get myself out of it. And I always do. I have tried to take medication for it, but it never worked for me. Again, I have always been able to get myself out of it. I don't need to put a magic pill into my system. Sometimes I feel like maybe I do need to and I am just being stubborn, but it doesn't matter either way. I pay too much for my other medications anyway. I can't add another one into the bunch.

For now, I will just deal with it. Make the motions. I get scared, though. My depression has never been this bad since being diagnosed. I am not sure how I will handle it and for how long it will last. I am reaching my hand out for help. I am desperate for someone to take it because I cannot do this alone.

Thanks for reading and the comments. Thank you for your support.

When All I Could Think About Is Food...

I have a serious problem. It is a problem that I have had for a very long time, much longer than I have had Type 1 Diabetes. It is an addiction that I just can't kick and having it, on top of having diabetes is making life just a tad bit harder. What is this problem, you ask? A food addiction and I don't see it going away any time soon.

I am a compulsive over eater. I eat when I'm hungry. I eat when I'm not hungry. It really doesn't matter. I think about food constantly and I always go for that second helping.

Before I was diagnosed, my biggest issue with my addiction was, of course, gaining weight and, well, eating crap that I shouldn't. I ate fast food--a lot--and that can't be good for anybody. I never really cared much, though. I just ate whenever I wanted and never thought much about what was going into my body. Life was good, I'd say. I still look back on those days with envy. Nowadays, I have to care, and sometimes, frankly, it really sucks.

When I went to go see my nutritionist recently, she told me that average women who are diabetic usually consume about 30 to 45 grams of carbohydrates per meal. My eyes widened like a child who had their favorite toy taken away from them. She explained a lot about serving sizes and which foods had 15 grams of carbs. I almost laughed, but I also almost cried at the same time. There was no way, I thought. I could easily eat 75 to 100 grams of carbs, and probably still want more. I really, didn't know what to say. The worst part about it is the fact that all my favorite foods have the most carbs. Pasta and especially potatoes. How depressing.

I do realize that I can eat these things. I just have to take enough insulin to cover what I ingest. Easy fix, sure. I'll just sweep the "30-45 gram" rule under the rug. If only it really worked that way. I used to eat a bowl of mashed potatoes, and 2 hours later have a plate of french fries. Taking all that insulin can't be good. Of course, eating all that food can't be too good, either. Sometimes, though, I just don't know when to stop!

I guess I just really miss the freedom I used to have. I used to just eat. Now I have to think about what I am eating and prepare myself for it. I can't just eat a candy bar on a whim. I have to take a shot. Ice cream (yes, Wendall), I have to take a shot. My glory days are over, it seems. But are they really?

What I realize now is that all of this has a silver lining. Eating healthier. Thinking about what I eat. I don't just look at carbs now. I look ate protein and fat content. I look at vitamins. It is almost like I am budgeting. Everything that I eat has a purpose now. Everything that my food is made of has a function and it does its job, as long as I eat what my body needs. It goes without saying that everyone should adopt this outlook, not just a diabetic like myself. Everybody needs to eat healthy and give their body what it is craving.

Now, I haven't fully gotten to the point where I am eating great. I still go for the mashed potatoes. I still get that second helping of my favorite recipe of fettuccine alfredo. I still crave, well, crap. It will be a long road until I get to the point where can eat 30 to 45 grams of carbs and feel satisfied. Until then, I am not quite sure what to do. If anyone has any tips at all, please comment. I need any advice that is willing to be given. Thank you in advance.

One more thing I wanted to add before I end this post. I just wanted to let everyone know that I made a Facebook page for my blog and if you enjoy reading my blog, I invite you over there. I feel silly saying it like this but please "Like" me! =) Here is the link: The Late Diabetic on Facebook

Thank you for reading!

What Have I Got To Lose?

I went to the clinic today. I had made the appointment a few weeks ago with the nurse practitioner for a diabetes check up. I went in with two clogged ducts in my eyelids, one being infected, and an infected big toe. Why am I telling you this? Well, had I been an average person, these ailments would not have me worried so much. But alas, I have Type 1 Diabetes, which means that I do worry, and I am worried. An average person would have went in, got some meds and be sent on their way. Me? I left with 2 more appointments--one with a podiatrist, the other with an optometrist. Ugh.

I have had all sorts on infections in my past, but ever since being diagnosed two years ago, every single time I get any type of infection, I red flag them in my mind--especially when I get them on my feet. I am sure you have read all about my catastrophic dog bite. (If you have not, you can read all about it here.) When the doctor mentioned the word "amputation", I will not lie, it scared the crap out of me. Who wouldn't be scared? Now, every little thing that goes wrong with me, I think the worst.

I do realize that not everything is going to be life threatening, or even limb threatening, but my imagination has a tendency to run wild. And it does. Every time. I used to think I was invincible, but I have met a few people who made me come to terms with the fact that I, of course, am not.

Shortly after being diagnosed, a man became one of my coworkers. He had one leg. Everyone stared at him, and I, being the understanding person that I am, looked passed it, and he eventually told me that he lost it to Diabetes. Another man, who I have mentioned before, had a few of his toes removed, and then his entire foot. He eventually lost his life. It is so sad and so so scary to think about. I don't mean to frighten anyone, though. I really don't.

I know, that things like that happen to those who have poor control over their diabetes. People tell me all the time not to sorry so much because these are circumstances where their blood sugars were too high for way too long. Well, let me tell you, when I was bit, I had dreadful control, so it was definitely something that could have happened.

Now that I am in control (for the most part, at least) I am calming down a bit. I don't freak out over everything. Just over some things. Like my big toe. I am quite attached to it, thank you, and I would like to keep it.

Thanks for reading and thank you for your comments!

I Just Can't Get It Right

Last month, as you all know, I turned over a new leaf. I really started to focus on my health and my diabetes. It was seriously a night and day change. I was excited. My boyfriend, family, nurses and doctors were all excited. I even started this blog to keep myself going. I was doing so well. My blood sugars were down (sometimes too much, but we all know that.) and I was completely ready for the long haul. Until recently.

Recently, I have been getting very discouraged. I was keeping a log book for a while, but I skipped a week and I just can't seem to get myself back into the habit. I still test, as I should, and take my shots like I should be doing. There is a problem, though. Something went wrong. It is as though the dosage of insulin that used to be perfect for me, has failed me for the past week or so. The other day, I went to sleep with a blood sugar reading of 85. When I woke up the next morning, it had skyrocketed to a shocking 150--for no reason. No reason that I can come up with, at least.

Today, I woke up a bit late, so I had no breakfast. I didn't check my blood sugars, either. It wasn't until after 3pm when I actually ate something. I checked my blood sugar, and again, it was in the 300s. The night before that, I ate a banana before I went to bed. A banana! I could understand a little bit of a spike, but this was ridiculous.

I mentioned to one of my diabetes educators that I tended to go low while I was at work, so she told me to lower my dose on the days that I worked. I tried that, but it was as if that tiny unit deduction I made resulted in a radical high blood sugar reading a few hours later. It was awful. I felt like no matter what I did, I couldn't win! Either have my sugars drop too low, or have them skyrocket! Where is my happy medium?

I am really at a loss of what is going on with my body. What does it want from me? I wish it would just let me know! I feel like I am failing as a pseudo pancreas. It is becoming an extremely difficult job to keep up, and I feel as though I am not qualified for the job. I hope I don't get fired!

Thank you so much for reading and for your comments.

Out Of The Water

It is so refreshing to realize that I am finally at the point where taking my injections and testing my blood sugar levels has become routine. Testing is the first thing that I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before I go down for the night. Ok, well maybe not the last thing, but it has become part of my nightly ritual and it never fails.

Back in the horrible days of last year, I rarely tested. After a few days of peeing constantly and dry mouth, it would finally occur to me to take a look. Of course, I would be so high, that my meter would just say "high". I would take some insulin to get it down, and not think about it anymore. When I ate, I wouldn't even think of taking a shot. Not at all. Once in a great while, I would take it--but only afterwards because it was a complete after thought.

Let me tell you, I was sick all the time. I was nauseous constantly for two weeks at a time. There was never a moment when I wasn't tired. And most of all, I felt like I was starving. It crossed my mind, but hadn't fully set in that I was feeling so horribly because my sugars were high. A few times, I was actually convinced that I was pregnant. I secretly hoped I was, but of course, I was not. Two months ago, I went through a terrible stint of migraines. They were so bad that regular over-the-counter pain killers weren't cutting it, so I had to get a prescription. My eye-sight also started to get very bad. I remember, I was filling out a whole bunch of applications one night and it got so bad that at 10 o'clock at night, I told Troy that we had to run to Walmart to get a pair of magnification glasses.

When I finally decided to start getting better, I started checking my blood sugar levels again. Then, I got sick again. I was consistently in the 400 range and I would take insulin to correct it, only it wasn't working. It would not go down, no matter how much I took. I got a little scared so I called my aunt, who's a nurse. She was worried so she picked me up and took me to the Emergency Room. They gave me and IV full of fluids and anti-nausea medicine. They told me they wanted to admit me. As crazy as this sounds, I refused. They told me I might die. I did not care. Well, I did, but I had thins feeling I could get myself out of another case of DKA without any help. I signed the papers and went home. The truth is, I should have stayed, but I was so uncomfortable and depressed that I wasn't in my right mind. I told some people on a forum I am a member of, and they pretty much scolded me for what I had done. I hated that.

In the end, though, I did get myself out of the water. That one episode of DKA got me on the ball completely and for good. My blood sugar levels have changed so dramatically and I am so proud of myself. I have new goals and a new way of thinking. I feel 100% better and I am ready to take it on full force.

I now count carbs in my head while I am thinking about eating and take my shot. I test 2 hours after, then 4 hours after, just to be sure. I do realize now that I am not invincible. I do not recommend anyone doing what I did, so please, if you are reading this, do not follow in my footsteps. It will not lead to anything good.

Thanks for reading and thanks for your comments!

The Case Of The Backward Immune System

As any Type 1 Diabetic would know, this disease is not, as previously stated, a result of an unhealthy lifestyle. It is an auto-immune disease that attacks the islet cells inside the pancreas and stop them from producing the insulin that is necessary for sugar distribution throughout the body. I am living and breathing the consequences of a screwed up auto-immune system. In more ways than one.

I have another condition that ails me that I have not yet mentioned. I have a skin condition called Psoriasis. I have had this awful disease since the ripe age of sixteen. It is genetic, so my mother has it, and so did her mother. My children (who are not yet in existence yet) will most likely have it as well. It is actually common for diabetics to have Psoriasis, come to find out, since it is another outcome from a confused immune system. For those of you who aren't familiar with Psoriasis, let me explain just a little. When you get a cut on your skin, a message is sent from your brain to your immune system to heal the skin. When you have Psoriasis, there is no cut on the skin, but the auto immune reacts anyway, building up more and more skin resulting in ugly scales.

I have it on my legs. They tell me the best thing for it is the sun and to go out in it. Ha! I find it hard to even wear shorts out in the summer. The stares and the comments are more than I can take sometimes. I have been known to wear jeans all summer long. I hate it. People think I have something that is contagious. People are ignorant. People are hurtful.

That said, I have come to the conclusion that I have an immune system that is completely backwards. Now that I have Type 1 Diabetes and Psoriasis, I have come up with an analogy. My immune system is like a country who attacks its allies and gives aid to other countries that are thriving. It is a complete waste of resources! Wow.

While research is being done for a cure to both these diseases, everyone is focusing on the symptoms, and results from the initial problem. The Dermatologist gives me ointments for my skin and tells me to soak in the sun. My other doctors give my insulin to cover what my pancreas can't. It works, but it doesn't cure it. It just helps me live from day to day. The underlying problem is my immune system and I think there needs to be more focus on trying to fix that problem. My two diseases aren't the only auto-immune diseases. There are plenty more where that came from. If they could just develop a cure for that, I think that many of us would be A-OK.

Could be me just dreaming, though.

Thanks for reading!

I'm Diabetic and I'm Proud

There is no question that I am very open about my diabetes. As you all can see from my other posts, I have no problem talking about even the most personal feelings I have about the whole thing. It is part of my life now, and it will be for the rest of my life. Well, unless they find a cure which "may be in the future" as I have read so many times. Hope...false hope, but it doesn't even matter. I have to live with it and I have decided that it is ok, and I might as well embrace it. Some people, I have noticed, are extremely private about the matter. To me, just like a personality trait, it is part of who I am. It is part of how my body works. Why hide it?

I had a comment from someone a few posts back replying to my problem with getting low blood sugars at work. He explained that he doesn't tell anyone about it that doesn't have to know (i.e. only very close friends and close relatives). No one knew about his condition at work or anywhere else and he was extremely proud. I suppose to each his own, right? Well, that may be, but hiding it from so many people can be  awfully dangerous. What if something happened? I imagine, if this person is so intent on hiding the matter, that he does not wear any sort of identification card. (I don't either, for that matter, but one day I will.) If he ever got so low that someone had to call 911, what would the person say to the paramedics? What would happen. Goodness knows that I don't even want to think about it. Nothing has happened to him in the 50 some-odd years that he has had diabetes, but that is what I call living on the edge. At least, I seem to think so. Once again--to each his own.

Now, I am not saying that I just bring it up to everybody I meet. That would be more like starving for attention. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Mary and I have Diabetes! Wanna talk about it?" Yeah...no. I do think it is important to tell people, especially coworkers, that you have it. If it get's really busy at work and it is time for lunch, someone needs to know that once I take my insulin, I gotta eat. You know what I mean? I don't care if they are sick of the "whole diabetes thing" that some unfortunate individuals call it. That is just how it is. Go ahead, roll your eyes. It doesn't bother me one bit.

I don't just talk about it for safety precautions, though. Today, I felt a bit shaky, so I grabbed a mini juice box (15g of carbs per juice box, by the way. Perfect!) The customer I was taking care of noticed and asked if I had diabetes. We began talking about it, and three others joined in. They talked about people they knew with it, and best of all, they asked a lot of questions. They understood Type 2, as many more people do, but getting to teach them how Type 1 works was actually exciting for me and they were very interested in learning. I cleared up many of their misconceptions and misunderstandings. It was honestly a great conversation.

So many people in this world don't get it. I just read an article yesterday, as many of you did, by this guy Wendall and his opposing of and ice cream social for Diabetic children (Read it here, if you are interested.) He was so ignorant about the entire subject matter that he really should not be writing about it at all. There are so many more people out there that really need to understand the disease and how it differs from Type 2 Diabetes. I wish diet and exercise were the answer. Truly, I do. It is the answer to leading a healthy life, yes, but it won't cure me, sorry.

In closing, I would like to ask you a few questions. Are you private about your Diabetes? Do you feel that certain people just need to know? Or are you completely open about it? Let me know! Thanks for reading!

The Ups and Downs Of A Diabetic

Just like almost every woman out there, I have always been concerned about my weight. I still remember, back in middle school, complaining, along with my friends, in gym class about how fat we were. This guy in our class came up to us and asked "why are you girls always complaining about being fat?" and he proceeded to point us out, one at a time "you're not fat, you're not fat you're not fat". Then he pointed to me and said "you're not that fat." I could have died. That's the kind of thing that sticks with your forever. He was right, though. I wasn't that fat. I just wasn't skinny, and that was fat enough back then.

Through the years, I have had my ups and downs. When I was 21, I weighed 150lbs. and in a few months, I had actually lost 20lbs. I was so proud of myself that I bought myself a whole new wardrobe. It wasn't long until I gained it all back and my new clothes had to be stored away. I kept all those jeans for years, knowing, or at least hoping, that I would one day fit into them again. I began gaining weight like crazy and finally hit 170lbs. (Just to put all this into perspective, by the way, I am only 5 feet tall, so 170lbs. is pretty big.) Then, I got diabetes.

I guess it's no wonder the doctor's thought I had Type 2, because of the weight gain and poor eating habits. That's when all the weight came off. I got down to a size 6 jeans, but only briefly. When They figured out they were wrong, they put me on insulin and that stuff makes you gain weight, let me tell you. The sad part was that I couldn't decide what I liked better--being healthy or being thin. I chose healthy--at least for a little while. When I started to lose control again, I started losing weight as well, but this time, I thought it was because I was poor and couldn't afford much food. The past 4 months or so, though, in my vat of denial, I really did lose a lot of weight. The jeans I had been storing away for so long fit me for a while, but they ended up being too big for me. I got down to a size 2/4 and I was very excited. Too excited. I bought more pants for myself. When everyone commented and asked how I did it, I didn't want to tell them it was because I wasn't taking my medications. I just told them I was eating right. What a lie--to them, and myself.

Once I got myself back on track with the Diabetes, though, what would you know? I'm gaining weight again. I am actually embarrassed that I boasted about my weight loss. I am also very depressed about it. I know, I know, it is vain and I shouldn't worry so much about it, but after being so happy, I feel like I let myself down. At least I am taking my meds now, though. Once I am comfortable enough with what I am supposed to be doing, I will worry about how to lose weight. For now, I will just enjoy being healthier on the inside.

Thanks for reading and your comments.

Not So Alone Anymore

When you have an illness like Type 1 Diabetes, as I have been saying (and most people with it should already know) it is hard to feel like you are not alone. Before I was diagnosed, I only knew two people that had it. One was a 2nd cousin, who suffered a few amputations before his eventual death. I did not fully understand why it happened, since I was so young, but it scared me that something like this could happen to someone like that. The other person I knew was this 16 year old guy that I used to know when I went Job Corps. All I remember was he would have to go into the office at night and take a shot of insulin. Once again, I didn't understand it. I asked a lot of questions and he was fine to answer them. He had had it since he was a child so he was used to it. I still felt bad for him. Now-a-days I wonder how he could have done it when the Wellness Center and the RAs had to keep his meds locked up. I would go insane if I didn't have my insulin on me at all times.

After I got diagnosed, though, I ended up getting two new jobs. The first one was at a movie theater. One night I was working and this girl I worked with took a cup and filled it with soda. She started to gulp it and looked at me. She said "It sucks being diabetic". All of the sudden, I heard the angels sing. Haha. I didn't just nod, I practically hugged her. I let her know about my little secret and she was so excited. She told me that there were three other people that worked at the theater that had it. It was such a relief.

While working there, I did get a second job at a waterpark for the summer. I was on the cleaning crew which meant I was out in the sun walking all day long. It wasn't bad but when I got too hot and dehydrated, I would also get very low. I had to take frequent breaks. There were two others that were on my crew. One was a 16 year old girl. I asked her for the time and she looked at this peculiar device that was attached to her side. I didn't know what it was, but the other person on the cleaning crew had the same exact device on his side. I thought, at first, that it was just part of work and that I was to get one. Nope. They were insulin pumps. All three of the people on the cleaning crew had Type 1 Diabetes. It was actually quite humorous since our job was the toughest in the entire park. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone.

Since I left those jobs and went back to school, I haven't found anyone else with it. I was hoping to, but to no avail. Not that I have been asking around. That would be weird. I have finally turned to the internet. Through Twitter, Facebook, and now Google+, I have found a vast network of T1's who refer to themselves as the DOC (Diabetic Online Community). As I am just beginning to branch out, I don't know these people too well yet, but I will. The ones I have been talking to are very nice and welcoming. They are the reason why I wrote this blog in the first place. I wanted to thank them all for being there. For merely existing. Thank you, guys. You know who you are.

Thanks for reading and your comments. Thanks for your support. Thanks for everything.

My Boyfriend And The Lying Meter

It is never a good thing when your glucose meter goes crazy. My glucose meter is my security blanket and if it isn't working correctly, it is like driving blind. I swear the my meter is doing just that. For the past 2 weeks, it has been giving me odd--very odd--readings. Sometimes it works fine, but other times I would test myself and think "that can't be right" so I would retest right away and get a completely different reading. One time, I was feeling low, so i tested--199 it read. Just to be sure, I tested a second later--60. Last week, I was feeling low and I tested--32! I thought it had to be wrong so yet again, I retested and it said I was 55. This has happened quite a few times and it really began to worry me. I called the company and they said they would send me some control solution. Until then, I was completely unsure if I could even trust me meter anymore. It was like a friend who was lying to me and then a second later saying "nah just kiddin man, you're right." What a shame.

While I waited for my solution to come, I decided to check it my own way--to take an innocent Non-diabetic victim and stab their finger and see what my meter read. This victim was of course my boyfriend, Troy. It would have worked in theory, I suppose, but things did not go well. At all. Why, you ask? Because Troy is, yes I will say it, a baby! He was all for it until I had his finger in my hand with my torture device (you would think, at least) and I swear he almost cried. Wait, I think he may have. I was like "I have to do this at least 4 times a day. Man up!" I guess that didn't work. Needless to say, he didn't go through with it. All I did was laugh at him. I asked him how he acted at the doctor's and he said something stupid about getting a lollipop. Boys. Did I say boys? I meant men, I swear.

Anyway, I got the solution in the mail today and finally tested my meter. Wouldn't you know? It was spot on. I was so disappointed because I knew it was messed up. What I think I am going to do is, next time it starts acting up again, I will get out the control solution and test it then. That'll show them! Or else I will call them up and tell them their solution is defective. Either way.

Has this ever happened to anyone? Do you have any ideas of what may be happening? Please, let me know! I want to know that I am doing things correctly. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the comments!

Sometimes I Just Forget!

I've never been one to follow through with things. I guess you can say it is in my nature to get all excited about something, do it for a week, and forget about it. It is definitely one of my downfalls, but I am trying to change that--especially now that I have a reason to stick to something. I am struggling, though. It's gonna be hard.

Taking medication was always difficult for me to do on a regular basis. I got prescribed anti-depressants quite a few times and would take them for a week and never take them again. Did they work? Who knows? I didn't take them long enough to even notice. This is one of the reasons I never took birth control pills. Ok, that's a lie. I did once. I took them for a little less than a month and suffered the consequences for abandoning ship. If you are female, I think you may know what I am talking about. If you aren't, just stop thinking about it and move on. Trust me, you don't want to know.

Now that Diabetes has swept into my life and taken over, I have had to really work hard at not fall back into my irresponsible tendencies. I did for quite a while and look where it got me--almost dieing without even realizing what I was doing to myself. Throughout the time of my denial phase, I was constantly sick and tired. I don't know how my boyfriend dealt with me like that. I couldn't even imagine how many times I must have gone into DKA. I knew it. Did I do anything about it? No. I didn't care. I thought I was invincible. I did luck out though (I'm still here, aren't I?) but that is not the way to do things. All I have to do is thank my lucky stars and move on. I don't want to ever do that to myself again.

I've been feeling so much better since I hopped back on the band wagon. No more migraines, no more nausea. I haven't had to use my awful-looking magnification glasses once! My boyfriend, Troy, must be relieved.  The struggles aren't over yet, though. For the past few days, I have been getting lazy. The log book I am supposed to be keeping is beginning to grow holes in it. I was going really good for about 2 weeks and wouldn't you know, I began to push it aside, insisting (to myself) that I would remember everything and write it down later. Yeah, that didn't happen. I keep telling myself that I will just start it again tomorrow. I'll right down breakfast and lunch but forget dinner. I really need to get back on the ball! I have also had a few things to eat without taking insulin. Not good at all. I started getting high blood sugars again and I struggled to get them back down. I did though.

I have decided that I really need support. Not just from friends, family, and Troy, but from other individuals living with Diabetes. I am opening myself up here, in hopes that I can find others out there who feel my pain. Thank you for your support and Thank you so much for reading and commenting.

Do I Really Need a Babysitter?

So as some of you know (if you have read my earlier blogs), I had been broke and out of work for quite a while and I finally got a job 2 weeks ago. It isn't anything special. Since I don't have a car of my own, I had to find something within walking distance, and out of utter desperation, I walked to the gas station on the corner and landed myself a fine job as a cashier. I only have 2 full days (Fridays and Saturdays) that I work for 10 hours from 5:30am until 4pm. So far, everyone is very nice and I am doing very well, but I am becoming a bit concerned. Since I am working so much on my feet in a fast-paced environment, my blood sugars tend to drop while I am working. Often I have had to step a side and have someone take over for me while I get my sugars back up. They completely understand.

My concern, though, is that one of these times, I am going to be alone with no one there to take over for me. Sure, I can have something right there next to me at all times just in case, but if I have a long line of people, I'm not going to be able to sit there and take it easy while I get back to normal. I'm not sure what I am going to do. I don't want to have to demand someone there with me at all times because I feel like I am asking too much. What if they just can't do it? I am really worried that they would let me go if I start making a fuss, so I have stayed quiet. Should I just not take as much insulin and risk getting too high? I don't know. What should I do?

If anyone has any advice, comments are definitely welcome! Thanks for reading and thanks for your help!

So Many Appointments, Too Far Away

When you have a chronic illness such as Type 1 Diabetes, as you can imagine, you have a LOT of doctor's appointments. I went from barely going to the doctor's to going once a week--at least. I am sure that they will eventually dwindle down when my blood sugars are better controlled, but as of right now, I feel like I live at the clinic. Not that I mind it too much. I am just glad that I am being taken care of and I feel like I have an excellent group of supporters that I can turn to when I need them.

The problem? Well, you see, I don't have a car. I live with my boyfriend who does have a car, but unfortunately there are days when he has class and using it is just not possible. I do have another option, which is using my mother's car. She lives close by and every time I need to use it, I have to sleep over her house that night and take her to work in the morning. Those days are actually a blessing to me because for about half a day, I have the freedom with the car to do what I want! It's nice, let me tell you.

It is getting to the point, though, where I have so many appointments, that I have a sleepover at my mom's once a week. My boyfriend gets sad and depressed when that happens. It isn't like he doesn't understand, because he does, but it still gets him down. At least I know he misses me and that he cares.

Tonight is one of those nights. I have to wait for him to come home from class just so he can drive me over to my mother's. I feel so pathetic when I have to do this. It is so frustrating not being able to just drive to the places where I need to go. I can do without the hassle. I have enough things on my mind that I am worried about and transportation shouldn't be one of them. Anyone have a car they want to give me? Just kidding. I think.

A Brief History and Introduction

Let me introduce myself. I am Mary, I am 29, and I am a diabetic mess--or at least I have been up until now. Before I get into the "now", though, let me take you back two years to where my ominous adventure began.

I was 27 and my life was going fine. All of the sudden, everything started to change. I was getting these strange symptoms that I had never experienced before. I was always thirsty and was taking more bathroom breaks than anyone at work. This went on for about a week or so and I finally decided that there was something wrong. I wasn't exactly sure what, so I went over my mother's house and talked to her about it. Being a Type 2 Diabetic, she immediately recognized the problem and quickly got her meter out and pricked my finger. Sure enough, my blood sugar was well above 500--not that I knew what that meant at the time. Concerned, she rushed my over to the Emergency Room where they did test after test. They eventually diagnosed me as a Type 2 and sent me home with a prescription for Metformin. I was very confused how this could have happened. I was a relatively healthy 27 year old woman who was not in the least obese (which I thought at the time you had to be to get Diabetes). They assured me that it was possible .
I took the Metformin for about a month, thinking "this isn't so bad". Everyone that I told said that it was a good thing I didn't get the "other type". I didn't know much about the "other type" except that it was the kind children got and it had nothing to do with lifestyle or diet. Basically, Type 1 wasn't your fault. I guess I sort of wished deep down that it had been, so that I couldn't blame myself for giving myself the disease.

During this month, I began to drop pounds like crazy. Everyone complemented me and I felt great. I figured it was because of the new diet I was on. One day at work, I had some sudden back pain. I had decided it must have been from lifting a heavy box at work and my boss sent me over to the clinic to get it checked out. It would be two weeks until I returned back to work. At the clinic, the doctor was very concerned and he admitted there was nothing he could do, and so he sent me to the ER. I was in Diabetic Ketoacidosis with an new, official diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes.

I set up residence in the hospital for a week after that. For the first 3 days, they wouldn't let me eat a thing and just gave me fluids and insulin through an IV. It was excruciating. Every hour, they came in and poked my fingers. My room was swarming with nurses, doctors, and CNAs on top of all the social workers, educators, family and friends. Everything happened so fast that I felt like a deer in headlights. I didn't even have time to feel anything--emotionally that is. It wasn't until one of my last nights there when I finally broke down and cried. I felt safe in the hospital and I was nervous to go out on my own to fend for myself. I knew that I didn't have the strength and will power to do it with no one there watching me. Nevertheless, I had to move on.

They sent me home with a goody bag of stuff, including my very own testing meter as well as pamphlet upon pamphlet of information that would end up just collecting dust. I stayed out of work another week and when I returned, everyone was my new best friend, assisting me in any way they could. I assured them I was fine, but was thankful for all the support.

This was probably one of the worst moments of my life, as you can imagine. My story goes on, though. I will continue it in my next few posts to get you up to speed with my situation. What I hope to do is help others through this blog who have gone, or are going through, the same thing as me. I am here for you, if you need me. Feel free to comment to message me with anything you want! And please, keep coming back to hear more of my story!