What Motivates You?

George's post about the PSA for diabetes management got me thinking, especially when he commented "Fear does not motivate me. We should make our own PSA on the D."

So I'm curious, what motivates you to manage your D...if not fear, then what? What would you, as a PWD, the person who knows better than a copywriter from a PR firm, say to the D public?

Really really think about why you pick up that lancet...collect blood on the strip...count carbs (or not)...dose yourself several times a day...day in and day out. What compells you to do it so often and not get influenced by the enticement of taking a break and skipping just one dose...or two...or three, or taking a day off from testing (people very close to me have done that you know)?

(Conversely and MORE importantly, if you don't test and dose and count carbs regularly, or as often as is suggested by the experts, what keeps you from doing it knowing that not doing so may make complications more likely?) I think it's probably more important to find out why people don't manage their diabetes diligently, if at all for some Type 2 diabetics. If we know why, then we could work on a way to overcome the obstacles (both mental and physical, and even financial) that prevent people from managing your diabetes more frequently.

If you could write a PSA, what would you say? Really take your time and think about it, then post a comment. It could be a sentence, or a whole dissertation...you can even say why you don't test as often too...it's a free for all. Most importantly, be open and honest...don't hold back.

I'll be on vacation starting on Friday and coming back March 6th. I can't wait to come back to read everyone's comments.

The Sculptist

The sculptist places clay on a canvas base and applying knowledge to hand begins her artistic process. She learned from the experts what needs to be done to make the clay work the way she wants. She knows to quench the clay with the right amount of water and she she has all the right tools. She knows how much pressure to apply with her strong fingers...she knows the right amount of clay to carve away to form the correct perspective. This is what they told her to do, they are the experts, so it must be true.

Yet, when she quenches the clay, it shrivels to dust. She tries again slowly and gets a silky clay that she is sure she can manipulate.

Yet, when she presses her fingers into the clay with just the right amount of pressure, she creates a gaping hole. She smooths over the hole and tries again and creates the perfect dimple.

She gently coaxes the clay with her fingers to form limbs and raised features, but the clay falls back again to a nondescript mass. She takes a deep, cleansing breath and coaxes with just a little more pressure from her strong fingers the limbs and features of her final creation and the clay settles into its new form.

The worn carving tools fall comfortably into the crook of the sculptist's thumb and forefinger as she painstakingly carves the correct amount of clay to create the details of her form. But a little more clay falls away without askance. The sculptist, understanding that the clay has its own ideas, remains patient as she reapplies the clay that needs to remain in place in order to preserve her own idea of what the clay should be.

Although the sculptist knew all the right techniques to mold her creation...after all she was taught by the experts...she hadn't taken into account the particular nature of the fine silt and water.

But somehow, the sculptist's instincts overrode her knowledge and served her well to remain patient and create her own technique for molding the clay into her desired design. Trial and error, trial and success...the sculptist and clay find common ground and the perfect creation is accomplished:



A healthy, vibrant boy despite having diabetes.

Never give up. Keep always trying. You may not get the results you want the first time around, but it will come to you...and pay you well.

Nothing Annoys Me More....

than the Dutch Oven my dog pulls on me. She likes to sleep under the desk while I'm on the computer (the dog NEVER leaves my side...my own personal Old Yeller...except she's a German Shepard) and let's loose the stinkiest friggin farts that seep out from under the desk.

So while I'm reading Popsugar, Waiterrant, or the OC blogs, my olfactory system is being assaulted...silent-but-deadly style.

Do I leave the desk until the it dissipates...hell no. That, my friends, is how goddamn lazy I feel today.

It's The Little Things That Melt My Heart

(sign on his bedroom door)

Have a Happy VD!

Google Worthy

I had my neurology appointment yesterday. The doctor was kind and soft spoken, seemed very smart. He asked me about the headache I had last month and then proceeded to poke and prod my face and head, had me do wacky movements, etc., etc.

I seemed normal to him based on the tests he had me perform (probably to merely amuse himself and see what I'd be a sucker for doing...j/k), but he told me that my headache was alarming to him (same reference used by the ER doc). It was alarming to him because it was exertion induced, it happened twice doing the same activity and that it hasn't happened since I stopped the activity. I won't even get into what he said about sex and orgasms.....

He said the ER doctor was very astute when he ordered the CT scan and the spinal tap (for which I will forever curse the PA who performed it!). Even though both came up normal, the neurologist didn't want to settle for those results because he said I could've blown a vessel that didn't actually rupture...it could've just blown up like a balloon without bursting. He said it could also be what's called Chiari Malformation (on your mark, get set, Google!).

So now I have an appointment next week for an MRI and an MRA. If those two come up with nothing, then there are no specific conditions that caused the headache and I'm in the clear.

On a separate note, I noticed some OC bloggers talking about eating like crap, etc. I have been too! For about a week or so, I've eaten whatever appeals to me, as much as I wanted, whenever I wanted. I was probably dehydrated too because I was too busy (a.k.a. lazy) to get a glass of water when I felt thirsty.

Well, yesterday, I put myself on a diet that I've gotten from an old weight lifting book I have. It's probably more like the South Beach diet. You eat loads of lean protein, vegetables and fruit for snacks. Water is also a must on this diet. I drink a glass upon waking and going to bed, and then before and after each meal. You're supposed to eat this way for a solid month and then the next phase includes more carbs like brown rice and pasta (no more than 2 x's per week).

After just one day, I've dropped 5 pounds (I believe this is the water I was retaining that my body was holding onto for dear life because it was all it had). I feel incredibly energetic. So much so that I am in the mood to put away the laundry that's been sitting in a basket for the past month and that I've been rooting through for clothes to wear!

I have to make a conscious effort to remember how I feel so that when I'm confronted with something that tastes good and yet will set me on a binge, I'll resist it.

Let Him Eat Crow

Kids. Can't live with 'em....can't live with 'em.

Read below for the reference. This morning I told Brendon I was sending a note with him to his teacher about looking out for lows. Then I told him there was another note for him to tape to his desk.

He looked at me warily and said, "Mom, I was fine yesterday. I didn't feel out of control. I lied to you."

"Why did you lie to me?"

"Because I didn't want to get in trouble for not writing my name on my paper."

After further inquiry from me, he admitted that he lied about feeling out of control so that he wouldn't get in trouble with me. I asked him about getting all of those wrong answers on his math work....didn't he feel low then? He said he didn't feel low, he just did the work backwards.

"Mom, do I have to go to school today? I just want to stay home."

"No, you have to go...why don't you want to go?"

"I don't want to have to write my name 25 times. Why can't they just make me write it 14 times...why 25?"

"Get over it! What's the big deal about writing your name? It's not a punishment...just a reminder to remember to write your name. I'll bet you won't forget, right?"

"Mom can you give me that note that I have to tape on my desk?"

"To remind your teacher that you feel low?"

"No, make sure it says to remember to write my name on my papers. Write it regular, not in script so I can read it."

So I did it. Man, this kid really hates getting disciplined.

2+2=LOW

Brendon came home from school today, ate a snack as usual, and then told me he had to write his name 25 times. Now, back in the day that meant punishment, so I asked why he had to write his name 25 times.

He said it was because he forgot to write his name on a worksheet he handed in to the teacher. I explained to him that he probably had to write his name so that he didn't forget to write it next time. He seemed pretty upset and he told me it was a punishment. I insisted it wasn't, but he was upset anyway.

I then started to look over the work he brought home from school and noticed he had gotten 6 wrong answers on a math worksheet he did. That is completely unlike the work he usually does. He never gets wrong answers....in math. I noticed that he subtracted instead of added (if it were subtraction work, he would've gotten them right). A few of his other papers had some wrong answers as well. Typically, one or two papers per week have one or two wrong answers. Today was much more than usual.

I may suck at math, but I know that if you put 2 & 2 together it = Low.

I looked at his log sheet the nurse sends home and asked when he forgot to write his name and when he did the math worksheet. He said after lunch. I noticed that he was low after lunch.

He said he was out of control when he forgot to write his name. I asked what he meant and if he was misbehaving. He said no, he just felt out of control.

He must not have been able to concentrate therefore he made the mistakes as a result. I asked if he felt low, he said no, and later said yes. Getting info from this kid is like pulling teeth by the way, LOL.

So tonight, I will write his teacher a note telling her that if she sees him making more mistakes than usual, then to make sure he is tested in the classroom to see if a low is at work (and then to of course alert the nurse). Plus, I plan to write a note for Brendon to tape to his desk to remind himself that if he feels out of control, then to ask to be tested.

This is the first incident that I've picked up on since school started where diabetes had a significant impact on his school work.

Live and learn.

For All The PWD's

I was sitting on my ass watching TV just now and saw this hysterical commercial that I just had to post for ya'll (lo and behold....and eerily so, it was a featured video on You Tube). Next time you have a low, beware of Robert Goulet.

The Rag Tag Band

Unchartered Territory Revisited

Back in April, I was inspired by Nicole's chicken thigh as a new territory for infusion sets and had been working the idea on Brendon since then.

Well, it must be that he just turned 7 because he finally agreed to get it done in his meaty thigh. His numbers had been riding in the 200's a couple of days ago, so Jeff changed his infusion set. Jeff usually does the insertions in the stomach or the buttocks, but the sites must be used up because yesterday and today he was riding in the 200's, and even climbed into the 300's today at school.

So I broached the subject with him once again.

"Bren, you know those blogs I read?"

"Yeah."

"Well, a lot of those people use their thighs to do their infusion sets. Maybe we should try it on you because I think your stomach and butt are used up."

"I don't think my thighs are meaty enough."

"Oh, believe me Bren, your thighs are meaty enough."

I reminded him that we used to give him shots in the thigh all the time back before he went on the pump. He agreed to have it done and said it hardly hurt at all.

Now if I can just convince him to try his arm. I told him about this guy who's my age who finally got the courage to get a set in his arm. I showed him the picture that Scott posted so he could see how it would look. Brendon contemplated the idea, but wasn't ready....yet......

What would I do without the PWD Posse?

The Best Birthday Gift Ever....

From the day you were born.....






To your first birthday....






To your first steps....




You've never failed to give me the best gifts.
Happy Birthday Brendon....my Superman. Today is the 6th anniversary of his 1st birthday ;)

For The 11 Millionth Time....No, I Did Not See My Shadow This Morning

I shy away from self-promotion...it's just how I am. I'm only makng my birthday known so that I can tell everyone about the bestest, greatest, most valuable birthday gift I've ever gotten.

In addition, this is also the 7th anniversary of my 29th birthday. That's right...my 29th birthday has been repeating over and over and over again since the day I turned 29. Isn't that just so odd?

Stay tuned on Sunday for my birthday gift announcement.........

P.S. Punxatawney Phil predicts an early Spring...hip hip HOORAY!!