If I really tune in, there are quiet whispers (and sometimes GIANT SHOUTS) of diabetes everywhere I look.  (And, for once, I don't mean that trail of test strips that seems to follow me around everywhere I go.  Sorry, environment.)

Like in the Children's Museum in Providence, where a giant, rotating piece of art flows between a mermaid, a circus clown, and a unicorn. 

Or the fact that my daughter's pajamas are covered in teeny, colorful cupcakes.  (Also, she pretends to talk on the phone for long pockets of time.  Animated conversations with the ether.  I think she's prepping herself to be a blogger ...)

Actually, the diabetes-related rub here is that my blood sugars were great when I left the house, but after being nailed for speeding, I've since shot up to 217 mg/dL and am holding steady, despite bolusing.  The effects of stress on my blood sugars are direct and sticky.  (Also, just for the record, my shirt is blue.  Blue Fridays FTW?)

After a few weeks of feeling really tuned-in and de-sludging myself, I appreciate that diabetes reminders are everywhere.  Sometimes I need them; helps me stay in control.  But I don't always decide to notice them.  Artwork at a museum can just be artwork.  Pajamas are just pajamas.  And the piss-poor driving decisions made by this mama are just that: piss-poor.  ;)

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 10:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I love going out on the town for the night
And having a meal by a soft candlelight
(Because I know, at a restaurant, meals are yummy;
For the food isn't prepped, touched, or cooked by me.)
But to dine with type 1 can be quite complex,
Because restaurant food has a whole set of specs
That require some SWAG'ing; carbs seem to inflate
As you wonder what's really down there on your plate.

"Excuse me, but does the salmon have a glaze?
Is it covered in sugary, caramelized haze?"
I ask of the waiter, tuning in as he states
That the glaze can be brought on the side of my plate.
My soda arrives, and I ask, "Is this diet?"
As I bring the glass up to my lips just to try it.
"It is," he responds, and he watches my face
As I try to assess the fizzy soda's taste.

Moments later, I notice that something is wrong.
I'm not sure my thoughts are where they belong.
My brain is all foggy, my hands feel so weak,
I'm having some trouble with words while I speak.
Did I bolus too early?  Did I miscount the carbs?
Is it something I did to make Dex go on guard?
There are glucose tabs right here in my purse,
But I know that I'll feel better if I have juice first.

My husband is almost up, quick as a blink
To go to the bar to grab something to drink.
But it's not a big deal; I chomp tabs while I wait
For the waiter to come back and fill up our plates.
He comes back for our order, but I'm not quite ready.
My Dex shows my numbers as slightly unsteady,
With double-down arrows beaming; so unkind.
"Can I have an orange juice, if you don't mind?"

I see his confusion. The gears start to grind.
I hear the thoughts churning inside of his mind.
"She didn't want glaze, and her soda was diet.
The bread was right here, but she didn't try it.
What's up with this girl? Selective sweet tooth?
Whatever. My job is to bring her the juice."
He walks off to the bar to bring back something sweeter
While I quickly confirm the Dex trend with my meter.

"Here you go," and I down it in one giant gulp,
Not caring for class, or a straw, or the pulp.
"Thank you so very much," I reply with a smile
And try to regain some semblance of my mind.
My husband distracts me with soft, gentle chatter
While the orange juice fixes the thing that's the matter.
And the moments that pass are quick in real life
But it's hard for him, watching a low change his wife.

A few minutes later, things are as they were.
I'm no longer sounding all drunk, with a slur.
The waiter comes back with his menu pad out
And we tell him the entrees we'd like to try out.
Our date night moves forward without any trouble.
(The waiter's confused, but i don't burst his bubble.)
It's not a big deal; it was just a quick thing.
But it's always a riddle, what diabetes will bring.

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 10:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

The desire to exercise is just as cyclical as diabetes burnout, for me.  There are months when I'm all YES, EXERCISE, LET'S ALL DO THAT NOW! and then there are months when I can't even find the caps button at all.  sure let's exercise if we have to ... snooooooozefest.

During my months of deep diabetes burnout, I didn't go to the gym without literally dragging myself there.  (Literally.  Like tying myself to the bumper of the car and putting a brick on the gas peddle, eeking myself down the road until I had couriered myself into the parking lot.)  I went, but not with excitement or vigor or any kind of desire to do anything other than plod around on the treadmill and hit the 33 minute mark so I could put the mental gold star on my chart.  

Finding the motivation to exercise can be as challenging as the motivation to stay tuned in to diabetes.  I think it's because there isn't an instant payoff - walking out of the gym after one cardio session and I don't feel like I can pick things up and put them down.  Similar to how a week of intense diabetes monitoring doesn't immediately drop my A1C.  It's a slow burn, and not seeing the immediate results of hard work makes sticking with the program a little tricky.  (Versus the consumption of delicious cheeseburgers equaling instant and delicious gratification.  Cruelly unfair.)

Before the baby arrived, Chris and I would go to the gym together.  His dedication to a consistent(ly annoying, sometimes) gym schedule has always impressed me, because I'm very easily distracted by things and would oftentimes wander off to check on ... hey, something shiny!  But when it was just the two of us, heading to the gym was something we did together, and something we did almost every day.

Then pregnancy.  And baby.  And that whole "ugh, I feel a bit strange in this new post-baby body."  And then the "Wait, I want to shed the rest of this weight and be done with it."  But I relied too much on Chris's schedule before, and since going anywhere alone together (oxymoron much?) requires wrangling in a babysitter, I needed to find my own inspiration, my own reasons, my own routine. 

A way of feeling good about exercise, instead of always muttering "Oh, eff you, exercise," in my head.

So, even though it feels scattered and even though my head isn't always "in it," I'm back to regularly exercising.  At least four times a week, I'm either at the gym doing a cardio workout (with a nice, long cool down where I take 20 minutes and read a book, which is the only time I ever have to read) or in our basement, using the ellipmachine and catching up on episodes of Uncle Stephen. 

It feels relaxing.  It's nice to have an hour to myself, where I sweat and keep an eyeball the Dexcom graph and let my mind go blank for a little while.  And even if the effects aren't immediately obvious in my A1C or my level of fitness, my mental health is already benefitting.  Like I said, small steps.  Focusing on the emotional and psycho-social stuff.  For me, that's the only way to reclaim my health.

That, and it's the only way I'll ever finish reading a book again.  

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Abby is officially working as a Registered Nurse, and in the last few weeks, she's moved to a new state and started her new job.  Lots of change on tap for her.  Today, she's sharing a little bit about her first day on the job and how a little diabetes understanding eased her through her first few hours.

My first day of orientation at my new job brought a lot of stress. From getting on the shuttle bus and asking a total stranger if I couild sit with her, to sitting through a lecture about the Nurses Union I now belong to while having no idea what they were talking about, to that low blood sugar that hit right before our lunch break.

Luckily, that day I sat next to a nurse who I had had a "pre-orientation" meeting with, so I was a little more comfortable in this room filled with 75+ strangers (and at a table near a super cute male nurse - made the boring day a little less boring).  Through chatting with her, I found out that her husband has type 2 diabetes, so she knows what this whole diabetes thing is all about.  I told her what my Dexcom receiver was (I had it sitting next to my coffee on the table) so that she wouldn't think I was texting throughout the lectures.  (And then we talked about how ridiculous it was that the muffins provided for breakfast were covered in brown sugar on top.)

Then I saw that 54 mg/dL on my Dex about 15 minutes before the scheduled lunch break. As I chomped on two glucose tabs (I was symptom-free at this point) my new nursefriend next to me looked over at me. She looked down at my Dexcom, studied my face for a few nurse-seconds and said:

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, and continued chomping.

Then the nursefriend just smiled, and went back to listening about parking passes.

If you have diabetes, you know why this made me feel so comfortable. There was no stress from her side conveyed to me. She didn't freak out and ask someone for juice. At no point did she have a worried look on her face. She just knew. My new nursefriend understood that those three words - "Are you okay?" - were all it took. If I needed help, she gave me the opportunity ask, but she also gave me the opportunity to take care of myself, knowing that someone was looking out for me at the same time.

I'm quite sure that it is extremely difficult to be a person who cares about someone with diabetes, without actually having it yourself. One minute, we want you to fall all over our low blood sugars and and stop time to help us, and the next minute we want you to completely ignore the fact that we even have diabetes. And there is no reason for us to feel this way; we just do and probably always will. But sometimes you type 3s get it spot on. You just know what way to react is best, every time, and for that I am grateful.

New nursefriend's future patients sure are lucky to have her.

*   *   *

Again, Abby, I'll assert that your future patients are lucky to have YOU.  And for others who are disclosing and dealing with diabetes in new situations, how do you prefer people handle your diabetes?

Posted by Abby (the Person) at 10:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I've been slogging through some diabetes burnout over the last few months, but I'm starting to feel much better.  Things aren't perfect (Are they ever? Answer: Nope), but I've finally reached that point where I'm completely tuned in, rejecting guilt, and feeling like I'm on my way back to better diabetes control.  It's as much an emotional thing as it is a physiological one, and this video is about crawling out of the (primordial, most likely caramel-flavored) diabetes burnout sludge. 

Small steps are what move me forward best.  What helps you start stepping out of diabetes burnout moments?

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 09:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (30)

I have no idea who Paula Deen is. 

Actually, I have a little bit of an idea.  My mother-in-law loves the Cooking Channel and she watches a lot of the cooking shows.  Sometimes she tells us about a delicious recipe she saw, or wants to try.  My MIL is my link to the cooking community (because we all know my talents are limited in that department ... see also my contribution to D-Feast and that thing about froast).  She's the one who told me who Sam Talbot was.  And she filled me in on Paula Deen.

My personal knowledge about the woman is limited, though. 

What I do know is that she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes about three years ago.  And in the last few days, she's come out as a spokesperson for Novo Nordisk's diabetes drug, Victoza, with her web presence at the branded "Diabetes in a New Light."

But holy crap, the Internet has plenty of opinions about this woman.  The Huffington Post said "Paula is now suffering from the popular perception that money bought her new-found honesty." Anthony Bourdain Tweeted, "Thinking of getting into the leg-breaking business, so I can profitably sell crutches later."  Run a Google search on "Paula Deen and diabetes" and your web browser will collapse from the weight of opinions. 

I don't know the woman.  I have no idea if she is drinking her own KoolAid (or, in this case, eating her own glazed doughnut sandwiches).  But after all the emails I've received and all the posts I've seen in the DOC, it's hard to ignore this discussion.

On one hand, why not talk about her diagnosis after it actually happened?  Why wait for Pharma dollars?  Amy Tenderich shared her opinion: "Building a food empire on unhealthy foods and then being diagnosed with a chronic condition with a known correlation to food and obesity has to be difficult, not to mention embarrassing.  I can understand why someone wouldn’t be anxious to put themselves in that kind of spotlight — although it was inevitable eventually."  Paula Deen said herself:  "I had to really get myself into a place when I made the announcement. I would come with information, and I would be armed to be able to help others." 

Disclosing her diabetes when she felt best-armed to discuss it?  To each their own.  Continuing to market her less-than-healthy recipes?  She can do that, too, you know, even if the media wants to go apeshit on her for doing so.  If doughnuts end up on my plate, it's not because Paula Deen put them there and then crammed them into my mouth.  I think we need to own our own actions, and not be so quick to blame celebrities for being the voices in our heads.

On the other hand, what I also know is that she, like me, is a person living with diabetes.  Paula has type 2 diabetes, while I have type 1 diabetes, but the fact remains that she is part of the diabetes community.  And just like everyone else, she has her right to disclose whatever she'd like, whenever and however she'd like. Not all of us talk about our weight.  Or our A1Cs.  Some of us in this community only disclose anonymously online, never whispering a word about our diabetes to our "real life" friends.  We all share at a level that we alone have the right to dictate.  So Paula Deen and her decision to "come out" as a type 2 diabetic is her call. 

George Simmons said it best, in my opinion:  "Everyone is a hypocrite when they're first trying to change."  For me, as someone who is deeply immersed in the diabetes community and relies on it for psycho-social support (just as crucial as insulin, in my opinion), I want someone to be there for Paula Deen as she adjusts to this new normal.  I'm not a doctor or a journalist ... I'm a person with diabetes, and I want to support my fellow PWDs.  So her past is slick with butter and glaze?  That was then.  She has a chance to change now - and not to impress "us," but to take better care of herself. 

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (41)

The original "Sh!t Girls Say" videos make me laugh, because I unfortunately find myself saying things like "That poor dog needs some water" kind of often. (But they always look thirsty!) Since the SGS videos have busted out, I've seen lots of imitators pop up and do their thing (I'd link to them, but some are sassy and I've already titled this post with a curse word. Keepin' it clean in 2012, damnit.)

What also made me laugh was Marcus Grimm's take on this, from a PWD point of view.  Here is Marcus's video (and here is Marcus's blog, Sweet Victory - read him; he's awesome):

(For me, I'd also have to add, "I need juice," and "I promise not to blog this.") 

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 12:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 08:00 AM | Permalink

Meter accuracy is a top diabetes priority for me.  Top.  I don't care if the meter is red or blue or made out of saran wrap and bleu cheese (actually, I would care about that because bleu cheese smells like crumbled up farts ... yes, it does), but if it's accurate and precise, I want in.  In the past, I've experienced a lot of frustrating variability with all kinds of meters, and nothing shakes my confidence more than seeing three different numbers IN A ROW from the same meter.  Chaos, defined, that is.

Thanks to the outreach of a PR company, on behalf of Lifescan, I received a first look at the new VerioIQ glucose meter.  And I am relieved, relieved, relieved.

When I was in California a few months ago, I spoke with the Lifescan team about life with diabetes and the impact of the diabetes community.  I also, in sidebar conversations, voiced my concerns about meter accuracy, precision, and overall "trustability."  During our discussions, the VerioIQ was mentioned, and I couldn't wait to see it for myself.

So when it arrived last week while I was in NYC, I couldn't wait to get home and crack it open. 

First visual impressions:  It looks jazzy.  As Kim mentioned, this thing looks less like a glucose meter and more like an iPod.  At my friend's house last night, I whipped it out to test and she was all, "Hey, is that a new meter?" and I was all "Yup - interesting looking, right?" and she was all "It's way cooler than the other ones" and I was all "Holla."

Aside from a streamlined look and a really nice color screen, this meter has a light.  On the end.  Where the strip goes.  This development has been missing from One Touch meters, in my opinion, and is what made my experience with Freestyle that much better.  But the VerioIQ lights up, so even if you're testing in the middle of the night in the pitch dark with a cat weaving around your arms, you can see what's going on.  Very helpful.

I also like the way it charges; this meter has rechargable batteries, and I like that I can plug it into the wall and charge it up, instead of toting batteries around with me.  I'm not sure how long one battery charge lasts, but I'll find out soon.

UPDATE:  From the PR company, responding to some of our comments here:  "You mentioned not knowing how long the battery lasts.  FYI, when fully charged, the meter will perform tests for up to two weeks between charges.  The meter also provides several alerts when the battery is running low – this is to help prevent the situation you mention, being stuck without a charged battery.  However, if someone doesn’t charge the battery and the battery is completely discharged, you will not be able to test. 

If battery power is too low to do a blood glucose test, you can connect the meter (via USB or AC adapter, both included) for a 60 second rapid charge.  After the rapid charge, you will need to disconnect the meter from the wall outlet or computer before testing your blood glucose.  After testing, reconnect your meter and complete the charge."

First strip impressions:  The strips that come with the VerioIQ are completely different.  They look like little golden pitchforks, and they are thinner than my other One Touch strips.  They also suck the blood in from the side instead of the top, which is a different adjustment.  And according to the Canadian Lifescan website, these strips have "SmartScan™ Technology [that] analyzes your blood sample 500 times to correct for common interferences and deliver precision with every result." 

Oh yeah?  I tested these strips against the Ping meter, the Freestyle, and my Dexcom CGM, and so far, so good. The VerioIQ is almost SPOT ON with my Dexcom trends, and repeat testing (three times in a row) hasn't showed me any uncomfortable variability.  The results are no more than 25 points from one another, and I'm hoping this is a trend that continues.

First overall impressions:  I want to like this meter.  I do like it so far, but I'm not one to jump on the "I LOVE THIS!" bandwagon without doing a little more (literal) testing.  Like I said, accuracy and precision are my most coveted bits, and I want this meter to be the gold standard.  I've been a One Touch user for a whole pile of years now, and my insurance also gives priority to this brand of meter.  (I know - making decisions based on insurance sucks, but if it supports a meter I like, I'll roll with it.)  I want this meter to help me make decisions that will help me improve my A1C.  I want this meter to represent true progress in blood glucose management technology.  Sure, it looks cooler and more in line with today's technology, but I want it to WORK. 

So far, I like it.  I hope this trend holds.  If it does, I'll build a special little house for the VerioIQ to live in, and I'll make it lunch every day.

ANOTHER UPDATE:  The PR company also reached out to confirm that the meter is FDA approved and is currently shipping to retailers, to be available to us in 4 - 5 weeks.  Rock and roll!!

[Disclosure time:  I received this meter for free, in addition to 50 test strips.  I was not asked to write about it, but I'm pretty sure they knew I would.  I'm okay with that.  My opinions about this meter, One Touch, and bleu cheese are all my own.  I have an existing relationship with Animas Corporation.  I also have one, small, gray cat that is for sale.  Any takers?]

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 10:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (27)

Birdzonious Maximus, 

(That's your genus and your species, daughter of mine.  Bear with me, and keep your wits about you when you see the coyote run by holding Acme anvil.)

You are in a constant state of war with your vocabulary.  So close, yet so far, on many words, and the journey towards understanding is entertaining.  Green beans have safely been renamed "bean beans" and the letter W is "yubba you," but the one that completely throws me is how you innocently subbed in the eff word for "fork."  You sit patiently in your high chair, pointing out each item in front of you with confidence: "Bowl.  Eggs.  Cup." "Faffle." And then your version of "fork," usually loudly and happily announcing said "fork." It's kind of sweet, in your little high voice, but I'm a bit eager for when you swap it out for the "correct" word.

It's okay.  I laugh when you aren't looking.  

This month, you've had a lot of interesting experiences.  We took our first cross-country trip as a trio of Sparlings, giving rise to some airport dance routines and baggage both in carry-on form and underneath Mommy's eyeballs.  We played in the Pacific Ocean.  And you're back to wearing the colander as a hat.  (Okay, that's not "new," but the fact that you took a hiatus from it is peculiar.) 

I like watching you interact with other kids.  You have a very social personality, and you aren't afraid to weave your way through a group of kids or adults alike.  "Hi!!!" and a vehement wave of your hand (so vigorous that you almost fall over) and a big, toothy smile.  People usually say "Hi!" back to you, but when they don't, you continue to wave until they flash you a smile.  Tirelessly social, you are.  With other kids, you're a little more shy (read: clinging to my legs until you've found your footing), but once you feel comfortable, you run and play and you don't often look back.

... but sometimes I wish you'd look back.  Those moments when you come tearing through the room just to wrap your arms around my legs and say "Awwwww, mama," ... I just lose it.  I want you to be independent and strong and happytown, but I love when you check back in to tell me you love me, and then scamper off again, legs wobbly with velocity.  Sometimes my heart swells with pride.  Sometimes my eyes well with tears.  But either way, I'm watching you grow up, literally right in front of my eyes, and it's amazing.

You inspire me.  You exhaust me.  You make me look at things in ways that sometimes require crawling on the floor or crawling back to my own childhood.  You make me crazy in the head.  And you make me happy, Birdy.  

Mama loves you. All twenty-one wild months of you.

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Kerri Sparling at 09:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)