Tag Archives: T1D

Wear it Well

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Today I am D hidden. 3 of my D “accessories” are under my dress.  My pump is tucked into the left hip of my tights, my pump is connected to a pink Inset on my tummy, and there’s a Dexcom G4 sensor with some rhinestones on the back of my right arm.

Two people have commented on my necklace which is on full display.  Both thought it was some type of stone or quartz.  Nope.  It’s my used Verio IQ bg test strips (made into a pendant necklace).

There’s beauty everywhere.

verio cross

A quote I read the other day made me smirk:

“I’m tired of all the nonsense about beauty being only skin-deep. That’s deep enough. What do you want — an adorable pancreas?” -Jean Kerr

Kindergarten

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I remember my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Britton.  She was a heavy set woman who wore thick lensed eye glasses.  Her glasses seemed dwarfed by her face.  I adored her.  It was easy to see that I loved going to kindergarten everyday.  I couldn’t stop skipping.  I was in the big-kids school.  Our classroom had a playhouse.  We sat 4 to a table on tiny chairs at a round table.

I learned how to write my name in cursive while in kindergarten.  I watched my Mom and then emulated her handwriting.  I asked her to write my name in cursive.  She showed me.  Oh, all those swirling letters. A-L-E-C-I-A looked so fancy.  Grown-ups wrote in this code.  I would write like this!  I practiced and practiced.

One day in school, when it was time to write our names on the back of our art projects, I proudly wrote my name in cursive.  Mrs. Britton hung our art in the hallway.  She pulled me aside.  She flipped over my art.  She pointed to my name.  She asked why I wrote my name like that.  I proudly told her and my classmates that I had learned cursive.  She told me not to do it again.  She firmly said I would learn cursive in an older grade and that I needed to stay with my class learning to print.  She looked disappointed.  I didn’t want to disappoint Mrs. Britton.  I was mortified.  Quivering-lip, fighting-back-tears mortified.  I had done something wrong and everyone heard her say it.  When I got home, I cried.

Every week, two kindergarteners were assigned the job of “turning-in” the milk money.  Mrs. Britton collected the money from us, placed our money and parent form in an envelop and then trusted us to walk all the way down the hall to the office.  It was a huge responsibility.

When it was my week to “turn-in” the money, I was elated.  My buddy and I headed to the office.  We walked carefully.  This was an important job.  Actually this was the most important job in kindergarten.  Once we had given the envelop to the office, we began the walk back to our classroom.  We were alone, 2 triumphant kindergardeners, passing the 2nd grade classrooms.  We walked with pride.  As we approached the 1st grade classroom, a boy stepped into the hallway.  I knew him.  His name was Curtis and he had been in the same nursery school with me.  He was a year older.  In nursery school he had a girlfriend.  For the nursery school Halloween party, he was dressed as a groom and his girlfriend was dressed as a bride.  I was in awe of Curtis.  Now he was a first grader.  I smiled at him.  He sneered back.  As we walked past him, he began to speak.  I looked at him and he slowly whispered, “Kindergarten Babies”.  I was floored!  Curtis called me a baby.  I was not a baby.  We continued our walk back to our classroom. it was like the wind was knocked out of me.  Kindergarten Babies?  Kindergarten Babies!  Why would he say that?  We had just been in charge of the milk money.  I was devastated.  According to my parents,  I couldn’t even tell them the story when I came home.  I was crying that hard.  I quivering-lip-sobbed, “He….*sob*, he… *sob*, he called me…*sob*, he said we….*sob*, were Kindergarten… *sob, sob, sob*, KINDERGARTEN BABIES!”

Every teacher after Mrs. Britton dealt with more than just me, they dealt with me and diabetes.  As I listened to the breaking news today, I was dumbfounded by the horrific tragedy which occurred in Newtown, Connecticut.  I listened at my desk while this senseless story developed.  I walked home from work with a heavy heart.   I arrived home, shut the door, sat down, hugged my dog and cried.

Those kids were indeed Kindergarten Babies.  My heart aches for them and their families.  I cry for those children who witnessed this travesty and I hope somehow, some way they remain just that, babies.

 

Twelve

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I started a blog post a few nights ago about evaluating pump sites.  As I wrote it, some interesting things occurred with the numbers and like I am prone to do, I was off on a tangent.

I always liked math.  I loved algebra and geometry.  When I was a little girl I would actually dream about math problems and shapes.  Later, I took my appreciation of math and interest in art as a sign to go to architecture school.  Looking back, it was ridiculous that in my extremely sheltered world, I was supposed to be picking such a specific field of study and life path, at 16 years old, however at 12 years old, I knew I wanted to create.

As long as I can remember, my favorite number has been 12.  I recall a teacher saying that a favorite number should be a single digit.  What did she know, right?  On sports teams, I always tried to get “12” on my jersey.  In architecture school I always tried to group design elements in derivatives of 12.  When I write any list, I will keep adding things until I get to 12.  My first and last name are both 6 letters.  My career started with a company that was also a 6 and 6 name.  Yep, 12.  My current business is two 6 and 6 names.  Again, 12.  Most of the time I act like I’m 12.  Twelve.  What can I say, I just love it.

So in my post about pump sites, I started doing the math.  I took shots for 21 years (12 backwards).  I have been on a pump for 12 years.  I have had a Dexcom CGM for 12 months.  With my warranty expiring on both my Animas PING pump and my Dexcom 7+ in the next few days, I have been filling out paperwork to get new versions of both.  “12” keeps popping up all over the place.  I had to ditch the pump site topic.  Twelve was calling to me.

In grade school we did the project envisioning where you will be in the year 2000.  I used to change that topic to the year 2012.  Flying cars and my Jetsons-esque lifestyle haven’t quite happened.  Diabetes hasn’t been cured.  I don’t have kids.  But, I’m still here to celebrate 12.12.12.  That counts, I AM HERE for 12.12.12.

Happy 12.12.12 to all of you.  I hope you get a chance to make it special.

 

You walked where?

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This is late but life is busy.  I already told you about my trip to the ER.  So now it’s time to flip the switch.  Sunday arrived (9/30), I told my stomach to knock it off, and we all arrived at the walk bright and early.  Here is the email I sent to my fellow teammates and supporters AFTER The Walk (with an updated total and some added photos):

What a day for a JDRF Walk! 

As many of you know, this year was our BIGGEST Alecia’s Stem Cells WALK TEAM EVER!  I could not have been more excited as Sunday approached.  (My friend ) D and I had our WALKS With FRIENDS themed shirts (hats & tote bags too) ready to go, we had a lot of newbie walkers, and for the first time ever, we had a whole bunch of my fellow T1Ds all walking with us too!  

As my fellow walkers know, Friday afternoon turned kind of crazy when I ended up in the ER, stayed there through early Saturday morning, had to cancel my interview on our local CBS Saturday morning show (to speak about JDRF, the Walk, and our AMAZING Alecia’s Stem Cells team 11th anniversary).  If I wasn’t so dehydrated, I probably would have cried a river BUT I did make it to Walk Day!  I think JDRF felt sorry for me and as a cheer-up, they had the President/CEO of JDRF, Jeffery Brewer, come talk to me at our Alecia’s Stem Cells table, which was pretty awesome! 
I have some other incredible moments to report to you, my fellow walkers, and supporters of our fundraising mission…as of today, we have raised a whopping $21,381.62.  Incredible! WOW!
Next up….D’s incredibly cool, customizable shirts WON for BEST FRIENDS & FAMILY TEAM SHIRTS! YAY D (that’s the pic from the moment we heard the shirts won)!


The weather miraculously held-up (after some dicey weather forecasts), WE BEAT OUR GOAL, and my parents and siblings were all with us (except my nephew and sister-in-law Alysson who cheered us on and sent pics of my week and half old nephew in his Alecia’s Stem Cells gear).  We had walkers travel from California, Chicago, Philadelphia, New Jersey and a 7 hour bus ride from Penn State!  Friends I’ve known for 20+ years walked, new friends-of-friends I just met that day walked, and my office mates and their families walked!  We had 46 team members make it to walk day and I could not be prouder!
Walk Day is like a weird holiday for me.  Its a day full of hope, promise and an incredible amount of love!  It is a day near and dear to me.  I can’t thank you all for your amazing generosity and supporting the ongoing efforts of JDRF. 

And just remember, if they don’t cure diabetes by next year, we would LOVE to have you join us in our NYC bridge crossing!

Wordless Wednesday a few minutes late!

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This photo looks pretty cool (well I *may* be biased) but regrettably there were some issues with the resin setting.

“Boo hoo,” said this creative diabetic.

I’m experimenting with some patching and creating some negative space within the design, but I will need to create another (read: start over).

Test strip collecting resumes.

Bangle?

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A few weeks ago I made two rings out of used OneTouch and OneTouch Ultra test strips (side note: I have been using a OneTouch Ultra meter with my Ping pump for YEARS and YEARS. Finding 2 old regular OneTouch strips (black ones) in the bottom of a drawer proves I need to do some serious house cleaning). This idea has been in my mind for awhile, years maybe, but it wasn’t until a DSMA chat about the upcoming Diabetes Art Day 2012, that I finally made some ring designs.

The response to the rings has been pretty incredible and encouraging (OK not totally true but to the lady who said they were “ugly”, I feel that diabetes isn’t pretty either so I couldn’t really take it as an insult, more poignant to what I’d designed actually). OneTouch contacted me for permission to use one of my images on their Facebook page for a post about Diabetes Art Day which was pretty cool. Anyway, since Sunday afternoon/evening is when I plan to clean-up but lately has been my messiest time of the week, I got my designer groove on today.

Here’s a preview of my next OneTouch Ultra Used Test Strip Jewelry experiment (It’s going to be a bangle bracelet… well if this actually works)

Phase 2:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phase 3:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phase 3+

I’d Rather Not Think About It

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I’d like to preface this post by explaining I have lots of exciting, super-duper exciting things to post about, but those will have to wait for now.  This past weekend was a big one, but there was a big bump in the road (yes I just typed “pump” and stared wondering why it was the wrong word. Diabetes much?).

Friday, I ate lunch.  A few hours later, I puked like crazy & could not have been colder (not as bad as Pukefest 2012). The doctor on-call for my doctor sent me to the ER.

At the ER, a nurse took me into Triage quickly. Dexcom said bg was 277.  Hospital meter said 324.  I had been running between 77 to 126 all day even while puking.  Dehydration was kicking my butt.  After getting my vitals, I explained to the nurse everything that had and was currently happening to me, I concluded by saying I needed to take a correction.  She told me not to.  Actually she said she could not advise me to take a correction.  Ummmm what?!?  She said I needed to wait for a doctor.  Ummmm more what?!? This is the same woman who, when I showed her my pump and Dexcom, asked if they control each other.  I explained it isn’t a closed-looped system.  That did not help my cause.  She asked if my blood sugar is normally that high.  I politely explained my current HbA1c is a 6.4 so NO my BG is NOT NORMALLY 324!  I was told again NOT to take any additional insulin, was handed a puke bucket and sent to the waiting room.  I immediately took a mini correction.

30 minutes went by and I felt less nauseous (believe me there was nothing left in my system).  I started to feel desert-like thirst though.  Time did that thing it does, you know, ticking by. I took another mini correction.  BGs eventually in upper 200s and staying steady.  No one had checked on me.  They’d told me NOT to take a correction until I saw a doctor, they knew my most recent BG had been 324, and they LEFT ME!   I sipped diet ginger-ale I’d brought in my bag.  Baby sips.  I seethed.

I finished my drink.  I waited.  I needed a hand (well an arm) to get to the reception desk.  The woman who checked me in (not triage) explained there were people with more serious emergencies and that would delay my seeing a doctor.  Fair enough.  I told her I needed to take more insulin and explained I’m diabetic, on a pump, on CGM, blah blah then I stopped because I didn’t think I was connecting with her.  I apologized (not sure why), and asked if she was a nurse.  She was less than pleased but since she hadn’t been responding I wondered if my T1D/puking chatter was clicking.  Yes, she was indeed a nurse.  She said my vitals were good.  She told me I was looking at a 3 hour wait.  Ummmm what?!?  I needed fluids.  Give me the IV and I’ll figure it out myself out.  3 hours?!?  3 MORE HOURS?!?  So I explained, for the record, I was taking a necessary correction.  She told me not to.  I told her she was too late.  She said they didn’t want me to crash.  I said that wouldn’t happen.  I got feisty in my I-am-wearing-pajamas-with-multiple-sweatshirts-and-why-are-my-legs-wobbling-so-damn-much way.  I told her I’d been diabetic for 33 years and “they” could not expect a T1D to sit for 3+ hours with a high blood sugar and do NOTHING about it.  I *may* have even tossed out the word insane.  She explained they needed me to NOT take a correction so the doctor could see what was going on with me.  I could feel the heat in my neck.  I stayed calm (well calm-ish).

Then she said it, “They need to make sure you aren’t going into DKA.”

In my mind I may have punched her.  In my mind I also shook my head in disbelief like a cartoon character.  In my mind I stopped shaking my cartoon head and punched her again.  I leaned across the desk and slowly explained that if you tell a diabetic who’s blood sugar is in the 300s and escalating, NOT take a correction bolus while they continue to dehydrate, you will have bigger problems than possible food poisoning.  She argued back about not crashing.  I was about to crash her.  I tried to sound strong but I’m pretty sure my voice shook as I informed her that without a correction, there was no doubt they would be treating me for DKA.

We waited and waited.  No one EVER checked on me.  No additional BG checks.  My BG hovered between 185 and 194.  I’d take that.  Exhaustion was kicking in.  4 hours after I’d checked-in, I was taken into treatment.  A gurney in a hallway with another patient at my feet and another patient at my head.  A doctor arrived.  He was familiar with my story.  He may have been Doogie Howser.  I told him about the correction debacle(s).  I informed him of my present BG.  He told me that he felt T1Ds on a pump know more about their diabetes than they do so I should continue just doing my thing.

arm-IV-768x1024 copy

 

I got an IV like a harpoon.

Yeah I got pics.

I was there FOREVER.  Anti nausea stuff and fluids perked me up.  The head doctor visited.  I got sassy as is my way, and we all smiled.  I told him the correction debacle.  He repeated what Doogie had told me, that I know more than they do about my diabetes, keep treating myself and they will treat the rest of me.

 

I continued checking my own BGs.  I saw some crazy stuff go wheeling by.  I got silly.  I was sent home at 3am.

 

Not a Quitter

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Shortly after I got moving this morning, THIS started:

Sensor change

When I checked my Dex post shower I was quite surprised that my bedazzling was not only still intact, BUT my Dex is hardly frayed around the edges (it has indeed been a whole week).

Dexcom Sparkle

In one week I haven’t used any IV3000 to keep Dex stuck to me (shocking) and a bunch of rhinestone stickers have survived my workouts, longer than should be acceptable showers, and the various outfit changes I seem to make on a daily basis.

So what has changed?  Nothing that I can think of EXCEPT the rhinestones are a new decoration!  If they are helping keep Dex in place, then guess what folks?  I am going to remain one heck of a bedazzled, glittery, pretty pony.