Hey everybody! I’m not sure why Google Reader isn’t picking up my post from last night with our pictures from Barcelona, but it’s not. If you use Google Reader to figure out when I’ve posted, just thought you’d want to know.
That’s all!
Hey everybody! I’m not sure why Google Reader isn’t picking up my post from last night with our pictures from Barcelona, but it’s not. If you use Google Reader to figure out when I’ve posted, just thought you’d want to know.
That’s all!
Here we are: November 30th. The last day of November. The last day of post-something-everyday month. I feel this year’s NaBloPoMo has gone better than last year’s, and I’m thinking about some possible tweaks for next year. Maybe I will take a little hiatus starting tomorrow, using the time to read books on my reading list and further purge the office of mental baggage. We’ll see when I’m moved to post write something new next.
One thing I had hoped to do a month ago was to clear out a bunch of the things I had in mind to post. I posted roughly half of them. Yay! This dispatch aims to tidy up some loose ends. It will probably be long, and it might be rambling. Beware! If anything turns out to be just a bit too long or important, I’ll break it out into its own post.
It’s a good time to clear the decks. Lisa is out for the evening, I’m streaming a concert by Cœur de Pirate (mp3), and I’m in the mood to write. In fact, I’m in the mood to do just about anything to take my mind off the fact that I’m basal testing and have to skip dinner. Fortunately, at lunch I had some of the very delicious Comté cheese that we bought in Montréal last weekend; I hope that it will fortify me for another four-or-so hours when I can eat a very late (10PM) dinner.
Oh, one more thing before I get going with the things I had intended to write about. I’ve been listening to (and loving) the new album by Caracol. Unfortunately, it isn’t available in the US yet. (Next year, she hopes.) But you can stream the tracks from the web site. It’s so good! In my book, it’s one of my Top 5 for 2011. Go check it out and tell me what you think and what albums/CDs/whatever you really liked this year.
On with the show.
Basal Testing: I hate basal testing. I don’t think anybody who uses an insulin pump likes to do it. Why would we? It involves eating a normal meal, waiting at least three hours since the last insulin bolus, skipping the next meal, waiting 4-6 hours after the normal meal time to eat again, and recording blood glucose every two hours (or so). And that’s just during the daytime. At night, the requirement is to go to bed without a snack and then wake up at 1:00 and 4:00 (for example) to test.
Ideally, you see an awesome, tight range of numbers that make you feel confident that your basal (background) insulin rates are correct. But if there’s too much movement one way or another, you have to stop. This means you get to eat early, but it also means that you have to make an adjustment in the pattern and then run the test again on another day. Plus, who actually does a basal test when everything is going right? No one except crazy people. No, you only do a test to figure out what is going wrong.
But in October I decided to bit the bullet and get my all my basal rates as correct as they can be. I was noticing a lot of trends in my CGM graphs and decided against just making changes willy-nilly. I still suspect that most of my problem is under-bolusing for meals, but I can never know without checking that the basals are correct first.
One big problem with basal testing is each day is a big ole cycle that leads straight into the next. Where do you start? Some people say, “Overnight. Get that right and then you can start your march through the day.” Maybe for them. My evenings are cray-cray, going high after my after-work training and then bouncing around after dinner before I give myself my final “well, I’ve messed up today pretty good” insulin and/or snack before bedtime. That makes overnight testing difficult.
For me, it’s been easiest to find a few mornings that seemed designed for testing—in-range BGs, flat/normal CGM graphs overnight—and skip breakfast. Then I tested my breakfast bolus ratio and timing. Then I skipped lunch for an afternoon basal test, followed by the lunch bolus test. And now here we are at dinnertime without dinner. Once I’m done here I can figure out a rubric for my afternoon/evening workouts and test that before taking a stab at dinner and (finally) the overnight basal.
One hard question I’ve had to answer is whether to exercise on days when I do basal testing. Since I train 5-6 days each week, I feel okay skipping one for the greater good. But then there’s the admonition that you should do what you normally do, which for me means exercise. Today I skipped a bike session in the basement, which is “okay” since I swam this morning, but it’s also torture because I really, really want to ride my new bike. Greater good.
By the way, to any CDEs, endos, etc., who might be reading this, please note: I’ve been on the pump for over ten years, and this will (hopefully) be the first time that my basal rates and bolus ratios are correct/proven. If you’re going to put someone on the pump, you need to (a) make sure y’all work together to get the settings locked down from the start, and (b) work on all of the behavioral issues that come along with multiple daily injection (MDI) therapy. Just saying.
I just hope that when I get through with this process, I’ll be able to translate all of this hunger into a baseline for making amazing observations about exercise+insulin+food.
Three hours to go.
Organized Bike Touring: I was asked several times right after my trip (photos) whether I would do another organized bicycle trip. Most of the people on the tour had done several already and were talking about which one they would do next. I always played coy. “Maybe.”
I enjoyed myself quite a lot. The scenery was great. I really enjoyed spending time with Mom in France. My fellow travelers were wonderful. The tour leaders were fantastic people. It was terrific having so many details taken care of; all I had to do was get on my bike and ride. And there was plenty of time to do things other than cycling.
But two things brought me down. (1) I wish there had been more actual riding. I could easily have gone an extra 20-30 miles most days, and I wouldn’t have minded a slightly faster pace. I certainly wasn’t expecting a race or even a hard ride each day, but I think the tour company we used was aiming at a more casual riding experience . . . which is totally cool, if that’s what you’re after. No judgement from me. Honest. And (2) Lisa wasn’t with me. I was having a great time doing and seeing interesting things, eating delicious food, and going to beautiful places that she would have also loved . . . just without the bike.
If only there were a way to bring Lisa, a noncyclist, along on a trip that involves some (longer distance or more intense) bicycling. Oh wait, maybe there is! Clearly it involves bringing a larger group of friends to France, some of whom ride and some who don’t. We’ll see what happens in a couple years. :^)
Two and a half hours . . .
Occupy This! will be posted tomorrow.
Two hours to go.
iOS v. Android: I have an iPod Touch. It’s great. I have all sorts of useful apps, and I use it all the time. It syncs with my Mac apps, including iTunes. It doesn’t make phone calls.
I have a Google Nexus One phone. It has a nicer-than-the-iPod’s input editor coupled with its not-quite-as-nice touchscreen keyboard. It has a couple of apps that I used when I was in France, only one of which was not already on my iPod. It kind of plays music. It shares data with “useful” Google apps on the web. It makes phone calls, is unlocked, and accepts normal SIM cards like the one I bought in France that let me call home at 4¢/min. (No shit! 15€ gave Mom and me so much talk time over two weeks that we had a bunch left over when we returned home.)
I wish I had a mythical, nonexistent, unlocked iPhone that supports pay-as-you-go and takes regular SIM cards. That would be perfect.
Are we there yet?
Before There Was Facebook: A Short, Subjective, Incomplete Insider’s History of PlanetAll will be posted Friday.
Almost there! By the time I write one more and then proofread, it should be “dinner time.”
Cyclocross: Early in the month I had thought about writing about how I was considering cyclocross as an off-season pursuit. But then I saw one and decided that it looked painful (and not in a fun kind of way). Although this did make me laugh.
Yay! I made it! I did my proofreading, took one more BG test, and had dinner while chatting with Lisa, who just arrived home. The results are mostly good news: I was incredibly stable until 9:00, at which time I started to drop slowly but steadily. That happens to be just an hour after my basal rate kicks up from 0.4 u/hr to 0.7 u/hr. That hardly seems like a coincidence.
The fact that I feel the need to explain last Thursday’s post probably says more about me than I want it to, but—even knowing that’s the case—here I am anyway.
Last Thursday, the first day of September, kinda got to me in a way that nothing else has recently. Earlier in the week Lisa and I had the “It’s probably best not to listen to Emmylou Harris or The Rising until after D Day and 9/11 pass to prevent as much melancholy as possible in the coming days” conversation. I was totally on board. The anniversary of my diagnosis (which is this coming Thursday) often makes me moody, and my memories of September 11 (even though I was fortunately at a far remove from the actual events) still make me quite sad. The combination of a lackluster diabetes year and a round-number anniversary of the attacks were boding ill.
Strange as it sounds, listening to sad music usually cheers me up. I have my hour-or-so when I listen to Emmylou or Tracy Chapman or Gillian Welch, and I emote, and it’s done. I see that I’m not alone in sadness, that it’s possible to find a kind of beauty in transcending it, and that there’s a limit. I feel the flame of sorrow, remember that I’m alive and have no real reason to be unhappy now, and get on with living my life. I’m not much for having a cleansing cry; coming up to the brink, getting misty while knowing I could go over if I wanted to, and pulling myself back, that’s usually a good enough stand-in for the real thing on those rare times when it strikes me that I could cry.
But I’m wise enough to know this about the blues: Sometimes when you got ‘em, there ain’t no bottom, there ain’t no end. Hence my Emmylou moratorium until (at least) the 12th. Real pain—the knowledge that my sorrow from the sudden loss of my stepfather was mirrored and magnified for tens of thousands of people in one day on 9/11—is not something to toy with. It’s why I never watched any of the news footage on the day of the attacks and why I am trying to avoid all of the memorial shows that are planned for TV in the coming days. Grieving—for me, at least—is never truly over. It’s never the same or as intense as at the outset, but it’s still a powerful, occasionally overwhelming force.
What I should have known was that Patty Griffin would touch the same nerve in me as my other favorite singers. There it was, that one particular song, starting to play just before I drove into the office complex at 7:00AM, the one that usually stands my hair on end because of its beauty and power and unfolding tragedy. Any other day would probably have been fine, but something about Thursday the First was different. I listened about fifteen seconds longer than I should have, and in the space between when I turned off the car and when I arrived at the first landing in the stairs, I wondered whether I was going to make it to my office before tears started.
I just barely did, but I don’t think I would have fooled anyone walking by who saw me staring out my open blinds that I was (or had been) doing anything other than wiping away fat teardrops and trying to hold in the heaves of sorrow that were ready to burst out. It was like nothing I had felt in more than a decade, as if I had been transported back to an earlier part of my life. As if a package of grief had gotten lost and shown up years late without losing any of its power.
It was the damnedest thing.
Hey, loyal readers!
The Tour de France is over, which means three things:
I’ve queued up a few topics. Stay tuned!
Oh, by the way, I rode out to Sharon today to recon the triathlon bike course. The whole ride was great—even though it did rain for about two of the four hours—and I have a good feeling about the triathlon.
Well, that took forever to do, but I finally updated this here weblog thing to have a nicer layout and more modern WordPress installation. You’re welcome.
And in one evening, I checked off five items from my 101 Things in 1001 Days list. Score!
I need to write here more often. If only I had more time to read about diabetes, photography, and history; make progress on my fiction reading list; study Hindi; read the newspaper; go running, swimming, bicycling, snowshoeing, and skiing; watch television and films from Netflix; think about health economics; write in my journal; and post here.
I need the transmogrifier from Calvin and Hobbes.
Update: I’m not whining or making excuses or anything. Life is choices, and lately my choices have been heavy on the reading/watching/exercising side and light on writing or creating. I just need to move the fulcrum for that balance and choose to come back here more often. See you soon!
I just wasn’t feeling “National” Blog Post Month (NaBloPoMo) this year. Last November I think everything came together: I had just started setting free my thoughts about diabetes, and I was just getting back into the swing of writing here. This year it just felt like a bit of a chore.
It wasn’t an awful experience. It did help keep me posting photographs and whatnot, but it doesn’t seem that I set aside enough time to write some of the longer articles that I hoped to create. In fact, I often found myself remembering right at the end of the day that I needed to write something. Now that the month is over, I’ll keep going with the occasional posting — with more substantial content, I hope.
See you back here real soon.
. . . I guess there’s no time like the present to write a bit more and say that I got an iPod Touch for an early Christmas present. (Thanks, Mom and Miles!) I like it very much as a media device — navigating playlists and moving around the interface is just much more awesome than my old 6th generation “classic” iPod — and I’m starting to look around at some of the apps for it.
Let’s see here, there’s Twitter and Facebook and the New York Times reader and Netflix and Skype and the ESPN app which I’m sure will be useful once baseball season starts again. (It has rugby, but no Australian scores. Go Rabbitohs!) And I’ve just started looking for things that could help me out with diabetes and exercise.
Here’s where I need your advice.
What are your favorite iPhone / iPod Touch apps? What do you use to help you manage your diabetes? What should I download just for fun or because no properly decked out Apple gizmo is complete without it?
We have guests coming tomorrow — my mom and step-dad — which explains why posting has been a little light here recently and will likely continue that way for the next week. (I hope you like photographs, because you’re likely to see more.)
“But, Jeff, there’s nothing to do at work in the days leading up to American Thanksgiving. Entertain me!” Oh, okay. Here are some wonderful, fun sites I discovered recently:
Enjoy your pre-Thanksgiving TSA pat-down.
Dear readers, I have nothing special to share with you today.
I had hoped to share my impressions of our first Blurb book, but it looks like it won’t arrive until at least tomorrow. (It’s currently at a FedEx facility in Connecticut.)
When the book didn’t arrive today, I had briefly contemplated writing about something that Christopher Hitchens said about burning the candle at both ends and how he might not actually change anything since it had given him a fair bit of enjoyment (and most likely esophageal cancer). It’s made me think about diabetes and the choices that we make — when we abstain and how we choose to indulge — but I just don’t feel like giving in to that line of thought on such a gray and gloomy day.
For a while I thought I might have to tell you about ending my daily exercise streak. I’m being very careful not to overdo it. So when I felt a twinge in my right knee a few minutes after I hopped on the treadmill after work today, I promptly stopped, walked across the basement, and did a free-weight/core workout. Let’s just say, doing crunches on the stability ball kicked my abs, though not as bad as the forearm plank. (My right knee has always felt a bit tight, and I’ve injured it before, so I’m trying to be reasonable in what I ask from it.) Anyway, the streak continues at 18 days.
I don’t really have much that I’m ready to write about today. So here is something from Wired magazine that I came across in my notes: Why it’s so hard to learn from failure, and how we can do it. (“Accepting Defeat: The Neuroscience of Screwing Up”) It’s quite a good article and includes this stand-out section.
The reason we’re so resistant to anomalous information — the real reason researchers automatically assume that every unexpected result is a stupid mistake — is rooted in the way the human brain works. Over the past few decades, psychologists have dismantled the myth of objectivity. The fact is, we carefully edit our reality, searching for evidence that confirms what we already believe. Although we pretend we’re empiricists — our views dictated by nothing but the facts — we’re actually blinkered, especially when it comes to information that contradicts our theories. The problem with science, then, isn’t that most experiments fail — it’s that most failures are ignored.
In order to take lessons from failure:
It’s time again for National Blog Post Month. (Actually, any month can be “NaBloPoMo,” but for me it’s November.) Last year I found it helped me get my online writing mojo back, and I hope that by writing every day again this month I can refine some of the ideas rattling around in my head and tie up some loose ends from my notes.
In case you missed it, last year diabetes emerged as a big topic here. I had been reluctant to write much about it before then — perhaps not realizing how much it would help me work through my own issues and that it might help other people with diabetes (PWDs) — and I’m still not going to give over a whole month to it, though I had contemplated doing so. I don’t feel like a “diabetes blogger,” after all. I would much rather write about more exciting things like travel and books and awesome outdoor adventures, but in the absence of those things, diabetes emerges as one of the two parts of my life that most consistently takes up mental space when I’m not at work. (You’re still tops, Lisa!) And I do think there’s a never-ending opportunity to help build part of a vibrant online diabetes community, so you can expect to see more about the “Big D” here over the next 30 days . . . just not every day.
I won’t go too far out on a limb with what else you might expect to see here this month. After all, this post is mainly here to plant a stake in the ground. I do have a few ideas already lined up, but like last year there are bound to be posts that just sneak up out of nowhere. It will be an adventure for everyone.
Happy fifth birthday, Dispatches!
A lot has happened in my life in the five years since that first post just before our trip to India. I thought you were a goner during my last year of grad school, when I didn’t post anything for more than a month, but National Blog Post Month last November seems to have restarted a more regular rhythm.
I never really knew what you were going to be about. That’s fine with me. I’m a multifaceted individual, who is easily distracted. So, instead of mining the same vein of subjects to gather a steady stream of loyal readers, I’ve written about anything and not quite everything. For a little while I thought about getting you, my weblog, a little brother or sister, turning one of you into a single-subject weblog, and keeping the other one for random stuff. But I never did, because I know you like being an only child, and I don’t have enough time to devote to two.
As a result, you, my little weblog, are always meeting lots of new readers who are drawn in by the Google, stay but a brief while, and then move on. In fact, well over half of your visitors come from Google searches. You’re most popular when you’re unique and nerdy. Here are the top 10 most popular pages over the last five years:
Okay, I don’t get that last one either. I guess there are a lot of people who, like me, enjoy 1/64-scale tractors. And almost 80% of the views of the JPEG article happened in the first week it was published, when Steve posted a link to it, which got a couple hundred views and was then Stumbled, garnering 30 times more readers. You, my little weblog, were almost famous.
But those things aren’t really what you’re about. Over the last five years, we’ve traveled a lot, started to talk a bit about diabetes, visited many cemeteries, thought about software engineering during and after grad school, played with a large format camera, worried about health care, learned many lessons, taken and posted tons of photographs, and tried to deconstruct the American experience. (Lisa, who is perpetually awesome, helped with some of the posts and many of the photos.)
So what next? What will happen in the next five years?
Given the randomness of posts over the last five years, it’s dangerous to guess, but I bet it looks like the last five years. Without a doubt there will be more travel: In two weeks we’re going a Australia for a month; next year, my mom and I plan to go cycling in Provence; and in 2012, we’re going to England and France with my in-laws. Unless amazing things happen, I’ll still have diabetes and will continue to write about that. No doubt, I’ll also visit some additional technical subjects, which will appeal mostly to the long tail.
You, my little weblog, were born near the beginning of an online historical moment when it seemed everyone was getting a “blog.”* A lot of people moved on — to MySpace and Facebook and Twitter — and let their online journaling end. Meanwhile the idea of the weblog became the basis for a lot of mainstream media and corporate sites. The weblog became the scaffolding for interactive, moderated, medium-to-long-form medium.
I’m excited to see the re-emergence of “microblogging” sites like Tumblr, where people post short things: videos, links to other pages, excerpts from articles with reactions, etc. It’s bringing the social back into “social media.” Now, instead of thinking about getting you a weblog sibling, I’m trying to figure out the right way to integrate shorter snippits with my regular fare.
Because what I really want is to have something like a magazine, with its mixture of time-relevant mini-articles and long-form features: something that combines what has traditionally appeared here with some of the stuff that I’ve offloaded to Delicious or Facebook or Twitter. But that’s all in the future.
Once again, happy fifth birthday, weblog!
p.s. — I haven’t gotten you a present yet, but I know you want a new theme so that you can look a little more hip. And I think I heard you say that you want better comment management, too. I’ll see what I can do.
* — Five years later, I still can’t stand that word “blog.” It’s just too ugly sounding. Like “atheist,” there’s just no happy-sounding, value-neutral way to say it. Of course, you who don’t have my hangups can call this site whatever you’d like. :^)
Diabetes Blog Week finished Sunday. I really enjoyed being part of this, writing my own posts and (especially) reading other people’s contributions. I’m giving a huge “Thanks!” to Karen for coming up with the idea for this village green experience and for providing the essential scaffolding that the rest of us were able to use. It really made participating easier.
It’s wonderful to have a place — virtual though it may be — where people understand what I’m talking about on a deep level.* Because so many of us were conversing on the same subject on a daily basis, I found it much less isolating than the usual “I’m going to talk about diabetes now” experience. And I especially enjoyed the honesty that was possible when we were writing for each other; I didn’t feel like I had to have all my shit together before talking about my disease. (It often feels easier to talk to people with working pancreases, if I just pretend that I do — whether or not that’s the case.)
In fact, I think I finally get the real value in the diabetes online community (DOC). In the past I’ve tend to visit the DOC to get information that I felt could help me manage my illness better. But having read so many posts over the last week, I find myself thinking about it as a place that’s primarily about sharing other people’s experiences, talking about my own, and just being present. Certainly, I’m going to keep trying to learn as much as I can from the same sources as before, but being able to get extra perspectives has a ton of value in itself.
I wonder if you feel the same way, too. And I hope that if you’ve been reading me for the first time over the last week, you’ll stick around. Big things are going to happen in the coming weeks that you might want to read about — for example, we’re going to Australia for a month — and I’ve been enjoying all of your comments.
Now here’s the scary part (for me, at least). I want all y’all from the DOC to stick around, but I’m not primarily a “diabetes blogger.” I have a lot of stuff on my mind: diabetes, the US healthcare system, travel, photography, New England cemeteries, and a bunch of stuff that’s more like work than fun. (That last chunk of stuff actually comprises the majority of the traffic to my site, if not the majority of what I write about. . . . Go figure.) And I use this space to post on all of those things. Unless you’re actually me, some of my regular topics aren’t going to be your cup of tea.
So let’s make a deal. If you stick around and ignore the non-diabetes posts that don’t interest you, I promise to give you something worth reading more often than not. Just add me to your RSS feed reader or stop by regularly. Deal? Good.
. . . And now it’s time to put this new relationship to the test. I’ve been sitting on the next two posts (people’s exhibits a and b) for the last week so that they wouldn’t get in the way of your Diabetes Blog Week reading. It was enjoyable, but my! wasn’t there a lot of reading?! And I just didn’t want to add to that.
See y’all again soon!
* — I’m reminded of the time that I accidentally happened upon a little people’s convention in the late 80s in Des Moines, Iowa. Lots of people who are usually “the other” were running around doing their own thing in a supportive community. I felt like the odd one out. In the DOC, we’re on the inside.
This is Diabetes Blog Week, and I’ll be writing all week on a variety of D-related issues. Today: A day in the life.
Diabetes is a strange thing. It’s part of me, but it’s outside my control. As Jessica Bernstein said on Diabetes Mine last month, the best I can do is influence my blood glucose numbers. I can’t hate diabetes without hating myself; but if the ‘Betes were another person, I would probably say that I hated it the way treated me on a regular basis. And yet, it’s also inspired me to make changes and take risks and to go beyond my comfort zone on an almost daily basis. Today was such a day.
Most of the time — for me at least — these excursions beyond my comfort zone aren’t very exciting. It’s not like I’m pushing the limits in adventure activities or in the Olympic games or in world-class professional bicycle racing. It’s true that I do like to ride my bike, which means almost daily changes to my insulin pump therapy. And I also like to travel and do (tame) “adventure” things, like going to crazy places and driving an RV. But the things that make me the most nervous are the ones where my diabetes might get in the way of working with other people.
For example, let’s consider this morning. I went to the dentist. The stuff of adrenaline-fueled adventure magazines or inspirational speaking, eh?
I woke up with a high blood glucose: 300ish mg/dL, and I gave myself some insulin to correct for it.* I’m more sensitive to insulin in the morning than later in the day. At least I think I am; I’m getting closer to having better pump settings after losing about 35-40 pounds over the last year and after years of never really knowing the right settings. Anyway, I took a slightly lower than recommended amount of insulin for the correction, and then I had breakfast (and more insulin) at work about two hours after my first bolus. Before eating my Monday morning chocolate croissant indulgence, my blood glucose had come down nicely to 220.
An hour and a half later I brushed my teeth.** And then I thought, “I should test again, since I’m going to be driving and away from food, and I have that extra insulin platooning around.” I was expecting something sorta high but not too bad. So I was surprised by an otherwise very good 139.
And this is when I kinda freaked out . . . in my own stoic way. “139! I have to go to the dentist, which means I won’t be able to eat for an hour or so. And I’m on a downward trajectory. And I had expected to be higher. I mean 139 is very good. I should be happy. But I don’t wanna say have to say, ‘Doctor, can we stop with the filling? I feel funny and I need to check my blood and maybe eat something.’*** Ohmigod that would be so embarrassing and betray the fact that I really don’t have my shit together. Gosh, I really don’t want anyone to know about that. I should never write that down. Let’s just eat a banana, why don’t we? Ack! A banana after brushing my teeth. Ack! Well that’s done. You know what, Imma fill up my water bottle and hope that I can ‘clean’ my recently brushed teeth on the drive to the dentist’s office. I hope that doesn’t make me need to pee while I’m getting the filling. You know what, I’d better bring my toothbrush and toothpaste along, too. Awesome. I can hold onto my toothbrush along with my meter while I sit in the dentist’s chair. Gosh, I hope my blood sugar doesn’t go any lower. I’m a total freak show. Get it together.”
Okay. Banana: eaten. Water bottle: partially filled. Toothbrush and toothpaste and BG meter: check, check, and check. Dignity: mostly recovered. Confidence: bruised, but holding. Out-of-the-office e-mail: late, but sent. Car keys: let’s roll.
A mere twenty minutes later I’m sitting in my car in the commuter lot in Newton Centre checking my blood before walking the half-block to the dentist. 132 mg/dL. “W.T.F. Breakfast and a banana! I should be golden — or at least going up. Let’s eat some glucose tablets. I needed to brush my teeth again anyway.” It was probably unnecessary but at this point it’s the diabetes equivalent of holding on to a security blanket or whistling past the graveyard.
And everything goes fine. No low blood sugar while in the dentist’s chair. In fact, I finally start to go up and have to correct a tiny bit the other way afterward. And the rest of the day is golden.
And that’s today’s path through the Choose Your Own Adventure™ that is diabetes.
* — I say “300ish” because although my meter said 317, I suspect in retrospect it wasn’t quite that high. It seems that if I don’t get quite the right amount of blood into a test strip, my new-to-me meter will give a value that’s higher than it actually is. (I like my new meter, the One Touch UltraLink. It talks to my Minimed Paradigm pump, after all. But starting testing as soon as it sips the first drop of blood and then potentially being off by by 20% for an incomplete sample… Damn! But I only learned that this afternoon when I did a little impromptu experiment.)
** — I hate brushing my teeth at work. It seems a bit obsessive. At least that’s what I think about the people I see brushing their teeth at the office. But I believe it’s a felony — not to mention plain-ole nasty for everybody — to go to the dentist with anything other than freshly brushed teeth. So I brushed them for the second time in a few hours.
*** — Except that I would have gauze and a little mirror and a drill in my mouth so it would probably sound something like, “mmrphr mmm mee mrphp miff ma fiwwing?” etc.
Ah yes, eating at the dentists office. That reminds me of the kid at the clinic when I was young who was eating a Snickers bar in the waiting room. Someone casually said something along the lines of “Eating candy at the dentist’s, eh?” To which he responded, “I’m just here because my sister needs a filling.”
For the record, I was getting three “fillings” today — except that they aren’t really fillings. (Although if you’re my insurance company, they totally are.) It seems that over the last 25 years or so, I’ve been a bit too vigorous in brushing, and have “abrasions” on three molars, where I’ve worn away the enamel to expose the dentin underneath. My fantastic dentist is just putting some “enamel” back over it, so that I can “go to work on that over the next 10-20 years.”
Every so often I’m going to request that you to give to groups supporting diabetes-related causes. I understand that you want to spread your charitable giving dollars around. I do, too. I just hope as you’re planning your year, you’ll save a little bit of your giving for diabetes related research and advocacy.
Every year diabetes costs the US $175 billion, which includes $116 billion in excess medical expenditures and $58 billion in reduced national productivity. [1] It would be great if those costs could just go away.
Well, you have to speculate to accumulate. Suppose the US were to dedicate an additional $1 billion per year solely to find a cure for type 1 and type 2 diabetes. If those investments were to succeed, we’re looking at a possible return on investment of more than 100:1 — perhaps even more, since we wouldn’t have to spend the $175+ billion figure every year. A cure might involve on-going pharmaceutical therapy, but that should be modest in price compared to the costs of daily self-management, specialist visits, care for complications, lowered life expectancy, and lost productivity.
Can you imagine not investing in an endeavor with that kind of ROI?
So consider donating to JDRF: The Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, which actively funds programs to find a cure. You might also think about giving to advocacy groups that petition your national government to get increased funding for diabetes research and patient services. If you’re in United States, the American Diabetes Association is the main organization for this.
And now back to our regular programming. . . .
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Top Secret America