Category Archives: type 1 since ’79

Not Too Late #NDAM

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I posted this on my personal social media earlier today but I realized being so focused on other issues, I have not embraced National Diabetes Awareness Month and it is time:

A year ago, someone I admired and respected personally and professionally, handed me the biggest insult of my adult life, and it was tied to the fact that I have T1D, an autoimmune disease. I gritted my teeth and a few weeks later rode 104 miles in the Tucson desert to help cure T1D. I heard from that person yesterday. I still respect and admire them but far less than I did years ago. Then last night, I saw this photo of myself. My face says it all, I could not have been prouder or more excited to speak at the NIH this summer. 

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And it got me thinking, if at 6 years old, my body had the superhuman strength to annihilate its own beta cells, can you even begin to imagine what I’m capable of now? Happy feisty wishes to you all for National Diabetes Awareness Month. #NDAM

Advocacy With A Rhyme

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A few weeks ago I was asked to do a Q&A with 2nd year medical students at (it rhymes with) Mt. My-Oh-My (medical hospital and school). Yesterday was the day.  I was given very little information other than this was part of the teaching program and my doctor needed info about my T1D diagnosis (June 19, 1979).  I was also told to be prepared that the students may ask some “weird” questions.  Weird you say?  Hell to the yes, count me in!

I ended up being 10 minutes late  to the meeting spot with my doctor.  I full-on ran from the subway to the hospital (I despise being late).  Taking the subway during the conclusion of the St. Patrick’s Day parade was a lesson in madness.  Out of breath, my doctor also a bit frazzled, I was led into the auditorium.  My guess is there were about 300 students. There was another doctor presenting an older woman (dare I say elderly?).  I had missed much of her presentation but as I made it to my seat, I caught that she is a fellow T1D and her doctor was giving different facts about her and asking the students what tests should or should have been performed under specific circumstances.  After sprinting to the hospital and my heart pounding in my ears, I found it a bit jarring that Cutie Oldie T1D was asked to go into detail about when she had a UTI while on vacation a few years ago.  Holy Shirt, things got graphic FAST.  Cutie Oldie T1D spoke about getting a stent in her kidney for 3 weeks and how much it hurt to pee…. (get ready to gag or skip the next few words)… and she was peeing…puss.  BLECH.  Why did I agree to this AND what the hell was MY doctor about to say about ME?!?!?  I frantically searched my brain for gross medical stuff I might have to talk about… oh this was NOT good.

My turn.  I sat in a desk chair in front of the 300 students.  My doctor struggled to find her PowerPoint presentation.  I hooked up the mic to my sweater dress.  No turning back now.  A sea of students.  I was the last part of the presentation.  Lots of yawning faces staring at me.

I looked back at the screen.  There was the paragraph I’d written about my diagnosis.  My symptoms, local hospital where I went for blood test, my pediatrician telling my parents to take me to “the best” and sending me to Hahnemann hospital in Philadelphia.  My doctor got into some specifics about the diagnosis that were not part of my story but relatively universal in many diagnosis stories.  Then, “Does anyone have any questions?”.  Ummmm that’s it?  2 questions about my diagnosis.  Yeah, I was 6.  I explained I’m about to turn 41 and I am too old to remember all the specifics but I was able to tell them some of my memories and then I was off and running.

I’m a talker.  I had the floor (well chair).  I started answering stuff no one was asking.  My doctor threw in some questions and explained things like Regular insulin and NPH.  Before I took my seat, I had heard the doctor who was running this program tell my doctor to take her time presenting because we were ahead of schedule.  Too bad you let me hear that lady, because I will fill up this whole time slot…. and boy did I.

My doctor showed an image of some of the insulin pumps on the market.  I pointed out the one I have and then it happened.  My doctor asked if I would be comfortable showing the students my insulin pump.  Ummmm. I said how I probably should have worn something different.  My doctor then noticed why I said that.  I was in black boots, black tights and a grey/green sweater dress.  Pump squished to my thigh IN my tights.  She said something about how she should have mentioned that to me earlier and I thought,  “To hell with this”.  I stood-up, turned to the side and saw a woman shaking her head “No”.   Too late.  As the words came out of my mouth I just couldn’t stop them…

“You guys ready for this presentation to get REAL racy?” and there I was with my sweater dress hiked up on my left hip while I traced the outline of my Dexcom on my thigh and my pump right next it.  I showed how I could move my pump around because my tights were holding it in place but that the Dexcom was fixed in place.  I talked and talked, looking damn flashy but knowing, this was a true chance to educate and I had EVERYONE’s attention.

I told them about how much I’d agonized for 3 years about getting a pump.  How, like so many other T1D’s, I wish I’d done it a lot sooner but that my advice to them, if they ended up in endocrinology, was not to force a pump on anyone.  Plant the seed, water it, show it some sun and then see what happens.  I needed to want a pump on my own.  I had to deal with my own issues of being attached to something, and my own issues of self consciousness, and meeting other people using technologies (especially Dexcom).  On and on I went.  I told them about how important it is for me, the patient, to work with my doctors like a team.

My doctor told them about the benefits of insulin pumps and different types of boluses. How a square wave bolus works and and I explained to them my enemy… pizza.

And then the questions… Someone asked about the psychological impact of wearing a pump.  Alleluia!  So I explained how I’ve had a pump for 14 years and how amazed and hopeful I am when I deal with kids, many times they are not diabetic and how they will tell me there is a kid on their (insert sport) team who has a pump too.  He/she is diabetic.  That’s it.  They NEVER, EVER see it as a big deal.  That it’s the parents of that kid who are more likely to see it as a big deal…. so-and-so’s kid is diabetic and HAS TO BE ON A PUMP.  I told them my belief that these generations beneath me, live in a different, much more open minded world and they (the doctors) can help foster that.

I told them how it is hard dating and being in relationships.  I can control how I present information and why I have an insulin pump but I have zero control over someone’s reaction to it and that can be hurtful no matter what age you are.  How I have no control over the internet and when you Google diabetes it isn’t a pretty picture.  How I look like the picture of health most of the time.  I am in the best shape of my life right now, but people think my being diabetic could/will mean I will go blind, have all my limbs amputated and will die when my body can no longer handle dialysis.

More questions and more screens of the Dexcom.  I explained how the Dexcom is a Godsend for me.  That I live with a dog who is useless in giving me glucagon or getting me carbs.  That I don’t always feel myself go low in my sleep and sometimes I manage to sleep through the Dexcom and how I feel “lucky” when ‘i see the graph the next day.  I poured it all out and how freaking scary being alone and treating a low can be.  My doctor explained the Dexcom arrows and I gave them my real world reactions to those arrows and how they are my very personal warning system.

I told them how I hate admitting it, but that I worry every single day about what this disease is doing to my body.  I workout like crazy because it makes me feel good, it reduces stress, and it is keeping my heart and circulation going BUT it is a battle to keep glucose levels in my target range with exercise.  I told them how frustrating this can be and how quickly the workout “high” fades when battling a dropping or rising blood glucose level.  I explained that there is a ton of trial, error, doctorly pointers and glucose tabs that dissolve in the wash in my gym pant pockets.

I ran out of time.  There was applause.  My voice felt scratchy.   Student thanked me as I walked from the stage.  Before I left I thanked them for listening and to please become GOOD doctors.  I was smirking.  I couldn’t hide it.  I took that presentation in a different direction and I flooded them with stories and information.  I shared my passion.

My doctor walked me out and informed me that 3 people in the class are T1Ds and another 2 students have siblings who are T1Ds.  She thanked me for getting a discussion started.  I’m not sure about the discussion part (it was the end of the day on St Patrick’s Day) but I did feel like I did my thing.

Advocacy.  Go.

Getting Down To Business… and Halloween

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There’s a line in a Kanye West song where Jay-Z raps,

“I’m not a businessman, I’m a business, man.”

I repeat that line to myself from time-to-time.  I love it because, whether you like rap or not, the line is quite simply, clever.  What a difference a comma makes (As does “comma”, vs “coma” as I just typed and am laughing).  I also like the line from my perspective as a business woman (I work in product design and branding).  I’m a business, (Wo)man.

When I was a little girl, carb counting with insulin:carb ratios didn’t exist (diagnosed in ’79) but instead there was the Exchange Program.  If you don’t know about this, I won’t bore you with the details.  If you lived through Exchanges, I won’t subject you to having to endure it again.  I will however say that carb counting and bolus ratios are certainly an improvement in both diabetes care and quality of life.

On Halloween, I would go trick-or-treating like every other kid in my neighborhood.  Looking back, it really was ALL about the costume (hell, it’s still ALL about the costume and I may or may not, occasionally wear a Pocahontas or Cleopatra wig in my apartment on really cold evenings because A. wigs are warm and B. those wigs are pretty amazing and make me feel like the coolest girl in school).

My parents would let me have some candy.  The whole “you’re diabetic, and can NOT have candy” thing wasn’t exactly part of my life BUT “you can have ONE piece of this tonight and then a piece tomorrow night” was. FYI – T1D didn’t even exist as a term in those days.

So my parents set me on a path that I believe started me as a business woman (no comma… yet).  When I came home from trick-or-treating, I would get down to work.  I had to set-up my store on the dining room table! I grew-up in a neighborhood with many houses, very close together, which of course meant LOTS of Halloween candy.  I’d empty my bag on the rarely used dining room table and start combining “like” items.  All snickers on one side, Reeses Peanut Butter Cups stacked in a pile, Milky Ways to the left, and so on.  My Mom made index cards with prices.  Everything cost $.05 or $.10 and every so often, a full size candy bar would be in the bag (say WHAT?!?) and that was $.25.  I would strategically position the candy and index card pricing (hello future merchandising) and then announce that my store was open for business.  My parents would enter and make their purchases.  I have to assume they gave my little brother some coins too because in later years, he became one of my customers too.  The older couple next door even shopped at my dining room table candy store.

I know today’s parents of T1D kids can bolus for candy and this whole story is incredibly out-of-date, but since I don’t have kids, happen to be painfully sentimental and am currently treating a low BG with Halloween candy, I think about this series of events.

I had a savings account as a little kid at a local bank and a Savings Passbook.  When I received money for ANYTHING, I had to put some of it in the bank.  Into MY saving’s account (I thought I was Richie Rich after my first Holy Communion which is pretty amusing now).  When My Mom or Dad had to go to the bank I would bring along my Savings Passbook.  My Dad would lift me up to hand the book to the teller who would stamp the “new” amount in my account.  I would deposit my Halloween candy sales AND then get to see how much I had accrued in interest since my last bank check-in.  I was fascinated.  Kids would run around in the bank.  Not me, suckers.  I was a kid with a Savings Passbook and I stood in-line with the adults.  My Dad explained that because I let the bank hold my money and that they used it (OMG, THEY USE MY MONEY), that they had to pay me to use it and that was “interest”.  Get out of town!  My money makes money?!?!

So here’s my thinking for Halloween.  Some creative thinking on the part of my parents along with my broken pancreas helped me learn about money.  And that’s where I get back to Jay-Z.  I am now a business(wo)man, but I am ALSO a business, man (well, woman).

My grandmother who passed away when I was 11 yrs old made this incredible costume.

My grandmother made this incredible costume.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

34th Diaversary on a Business Trip

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I’ve been struggling (read: procrastinating) about my 34th diaversary blog post. I’m in a different spot than I was a year ago. In putting this off, it’s hard not to focus on what seems like an incredible amount of flat-out craziness in the past 2 months. If you follow me on Twitter, you might have picked up on my health insurance woes (I mean it’s just nuts). Bronchitis and emotional turmoil/lack of sleep/ and not eating much didn’t do my BGs any favors. During the bronchitis that wouldn’t quit incident (come on lungs, enough already), I kept taking more and more insulin, pulling pump sites I had hoped were “bad”, and switching vials of insulin. I’d get those bg’s down to the low 200s but just couldn’t get them to budge any further. These issues were just the tip of the iceberg. In the interest of preserving other people’s privacy (and perhaps my own sanity), I will simply say I have endured and been surrounded by a heck of a lot of heartbreaking loss recently. When I really think about it, it’s overwhelming and completely surreal. Then, I think of my diaversary and I’m just like, yeah, whatever. I have bigger fish to fry.

Monday night I attended my very first JDRF NYC Board meeting. I only knew one other person there, it started late, I got there early and it was, well, a bit awkward on my part. I felt very “new” in an organization where I often feel “old”.

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Yes this was the view from the meeting. Yes, this is insane.

Fast forward to the dinner presentation. Tom Brobson spoke (if you don’t know who he is, he is the National Director of Research Investment Opportunities at JDRF). Yes, THAT Tom. Tom spoke and I was elated. I’ve watched Bob’s artificial pancreas videos before. As you may know, diabetes discoveries really do occur, another mouse is sometimes cured and I make the same comment for the upteenth time, “Oh to be Minnie Mouse”. Tom, in my view, is sort of like Mighty Mouse. He’s been IN these clinical trials. He has seen and been part of an experience that I don’t know.

As Tom spoke on Monday night, I felt a sense of levity. When he talked about not having to think (stress) about what he was eating (during his study out in the wild… AKA the real world), his enthusiasm was evident. It was intoxicating.

I read a lot about what some term “practical cures”. Hmpf. Let me get this straight, I could eat or not eat what I want and not think about bolusing, or splitting a bolus, or needing to bolus earlier or later or not at all or dropping after all this bolusing hours later? Are you frigging kidding me? I’d have to wear some devices and carry a smartphone? Oh that would be so tricky since that’s EXACTLY what I do now but I have to think about this stuff ALL the time. A steady stream of checking and reacting, reacting and checking.

Tom spoke about other technologies on the horizon. Other clinical trials funded by JDRF. I could go on for pages, Some I knew of and others were new to me, but here’s the part that was the happiest to me. When the presentation concluded (also note he fielded questions the ENTIRE time he spoke which was also awesome), I decided I wanted to hug him. Yeah that’s right. If this guy is the Mighty Mouse of clinical trials and the technologies I fantasize about, you sure as hell can bet I’m going to thank him and hug him like there’s no tomorrow (and take photos of course).

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Tom is awesome.

As is often the case in my hugging world, Tom seemed quite surprised and offered me his smart phone to take a photo while I held it (with the artificial app screen showing). What the heck, humble guy? I didn’t cry but I did tell him about how much I have loved watching his videos. How I send them out to the people who love and support me on this fight against T1D. That I show his videos to our Alecia’s Stem Cells supporters to show them WHAT they are funding. That I admire the trials he’s been in, by choice, that sounded awful. Trials hooked up to 2 IVs and being all bundled up so his veins wouldn’t collapse as he sat in a hospital bed. So yes, I hugged him and I hugged him hard!

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So here’s the scoop kids. Happy 34th diaversary to me. I still have hope. Pure and simple. I am still me. I have hope that technology will continue to better my future. I acknowledge that there is such a small percentage of people who are T1Ds in the world, that I need to push this agenda for a cure and better treatment options. I need to raise money and take part in grass root efforts and get other people to support these ideas. I’m still not giving up. I will continue find joy in life and I will fight like hell to keep living. I will also fight like mad for a better future for my fellow T1Ds.