You've Got a Friend In Me

My First Blog Week! I'm super excited! I don't have a lot of time for this first one, but I needed to make sure I am participating. I'm dedicated--as both a diabetic and as a girl with the need to follow through. 

Find a Friend: When I first heard about D-Blogs, I just started googling. To be honest, I was looking for http://www.meanddblog.com/ which is a fantastic blog as well. But I happened to come across Colleen at http://dmeanderings.wordpress.com. It's fantastic! She is a LADA patient, like myself. She's wonderful and happy, and her blog is the only blog that I get e-mail notifications for. And I love it. I read it not matter what and you should, too!

That's all I've got for the first Diabetes Blog Week Post. Keep reading this week!

Reaching out: Touching You...Touching Me

So I just did something. And I'm not sure if I am crossing lines. But I had to.

I am a part of a website that let's me find nanny and babysitting jobs. I have been a nanny for five years, love it, and will continue to use the website, as it has helped me find so many great jobs and allows for security.

I get emails every day from the site that tell me about families in the area looking for a reliable and dependable babysitter. Not only do I take care of average kids, I am also a special needs caretaker.

As I was looking at one of today's update emails, I saw a mom looking for a summer babysitter. She was listed under the special needs category, but as I read her post, I saw this child wasn't special needs, he was a diabetic! I had never thought about it before. But I guess it is a special need. I wanted to apply for the job so badly. I am dying to be around kids with diabetes so I can have the introspection. But, it just didn't fit into the times I have available for summer.

But I didn't care. I felt like I needed to write to this mom. Here's what I said:

Hi!


My name is Charli Morris. I, unfortunately, cannot apply for the position, because I have other jobs I have accepted that cover those times. But, even so, I wanted to write you a quick note.


I saw that your son has Type 1 diabetes. First of all, let me say how sorry I am and that I know that it's a struggle. I also have T1. I have been recently diagnosed. I know lots of diabetics and lots of moms of T1 kids and I know it is not easy. My heart and thoughts go out to you in the health of your little boy.


I also wanted to let you know you are not alone. Since I have been diagnosed, I have found what's called the Diabetic Online Community. It is wonderful. We are on Twitter, and Facebook, and if you google diabetes blogs, you will be AMAZED at how many come up. I talk to diabetics, literally all over the world, every day. And it helps. It helps get us through things and it helps answer our questions. I want to let you know about it so that, if you don't have support, you will now.


I know this isn't what you wanted in response to your advertisement to child care. And I apologize if I've crossed any boundaries. But I want every one to know about this incredible community so that we can continue to reach out and help as many of us as possible.


I will keep you and your son in my thoughts and will hope for the best of health.


Take care and good luck in your search!


-Charli Morris

I hope she isn't offended. But I know how much the DOC helps me on a daily basis. And if that email can even help with a happy feeling in her heart, it was worth the embarrassment or possibly offending her.

I love you DOC. I will never be able to show my gratitude enough for the insight, love, acceptance, happiness, and strength you have all given me.

And there's no time for fussing and fighting my friend.

I don't have a ton to say. Lots of stuff is going on.

But, I tore my sensor out today. It's the fifth one in a row I haven't completed the time with because I keep ripping out of my damn body. I can't find a place to keep it. And now I'm all sore from different times it's ripped out.

So, I'm taking a mini break from it. I'll put it back in tomorrow night probably.

But, for now, as I struggle with other things, the CGM can stay out.

Is that a Sensor in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?

I did it! I tried a new site for my sensor. I've been rolling around on my abdomen and keep putting it in places that crease when I have less than perfect posture. So I turned to the DOC. I asked them: Where do you like your CGM to go? 

I got very few abdomen answers. Which, coincidentally enough, is the only place the FDA have approved the type of sensor I have. None of them cared because they found places to put it that worked better for them. I got mostly arm and leg answers. I'm not ready for my arm. For a lot of reasons. Sadly, mostly for vanity reasons.

I have to admit, since I have gotten the CGM, I feel incredibly self-conscious about my body. I've NEVER been this crazy about how my body looks. I'm not your typical self-conscious person when it comes to my body. I have loved it the most when it was curvy. I was a nude model in college, for F@$% sakes. My roommates have gotten more than their full eye share, as have most of my girl friends. I mooned a kid on the second day of first grade. So, yea. Bashful has never really applied to me. But since the use of the CGM, I am horribly ashamed of my body. The little girl I nanny for is curious about it and lifts up my shirt to check it out. And I pull it down after quickly letting her know it's my medicine. I undress in my bathroom for showers. And wear a towel afterwards. I'm sure I'll get over it, but it's there.

So, I figured a new site could help. I picked my leg. And had to count to 33 before I pressed the little white button on the sen-serter. Then, I went to pull the sen-serter from the sensor, and the needle came with it. I got half way before I manually pressed it back in. Tim about passed out. 

But, I got it in there. And, I don't feel as weird about it. Still creepy for me. But, I tried something. And it was successful. Now I just hope it reads...

Also, I have a slight skin allergy to nickel in metal. Which is funny, because the transmitter has it. So, I take a piece of cotton pad, cut it in half, and stick it under the sensor. Now, I'm not all red and bumpy and itchy when it comes off.

I hereby introduce you to Barry and Whitney. Barry is my insulin pump. He was named by five year old nephew when I asked him what the name should be. Whitney came from Tim, who dedicates it to Whitney Houston. So far, Barry gives me what I need and Whitney is a straight up, life-interrupting bitch. 

Disclaimer: I do not promote using these products in any way other than how your doctor tells you is alright. Always consult with your Endo or a representative from the technology company before deciding where these can go. 

Also, I was not paid or encourage by Medtronic, Tim or my five year-old nephew to write this blog. All words come from my mind only. 

What A Difference a Day (& A CGM) Makes

So, first of all, I feel like I need to add something that I have needed to say for a long time: I have been getting a little bit of negative feedback on my blog. It seems as though some people don't agree with how much I write or what I write. Because of this, I have been a little weary of keeping up with this #dblog. But, to those people, I just want to say: Don't read any more. This blog is written on the off chance that it may help someone feel so not alone-and help me not feel so all alone. If you have a problem with any of them, you can be an adult and choose not to read it. #thatisall


So, I haven't written in a while because there are a few things outside of diabetes going on in my life that I am not ready to make public yet, and I am afraid of overspill. But the diabetes is such a huge part of me that I feel like not writing is making things worse. And I feel like I'm not doing something that I really love. I figure that any of my readers will understand if anything comes out--and most of you are the most supportive people in my life, so I think you can all understand that shit just happens in life.


Today, I got my CGM. I have been a little nervous because I was aware of how big the needle was. But, I didn't want to psych myself out like I did about the pump. I was petrified of getting that thing. And, truly, there was no reason to be.

CGM stands for Continuous Glucose Monitor. Basically, I insert a tube in with a little device attached to it that checks my blood glucose levels every few seconds or so. It gives me the data I need to actually see what my blood sugars are doing all day. For instance, the finger pricks just tell you a moment in time: Exactly what you blood sugar was at 2:38:03 pm without a show of where it is going, whether it be up or down. The CGM allows my pump to show what my blood sugars are at 2:38:04, 2:38:05, 2:38:06 and so on and so on. I still have to prick my fingers before meals, but thats not ten times a day. AND it will now alert me if I'm heading below 80 mg/dl, or above 300 mg/dl-so I won't have an incident like passing out in a gas station, or be unaware if I'm at considerable risk for KetoAcidocis. CGM=More Control.

So I get to the doctor's office twenty minutes early. I didn't read my suggested reading like I was supposed to, so I figured I'd get some in. I was a little nervous, and all by myself--which I chose to be by myself for a plethora of reasons on this one. Shortly after I got there, R-my Medtronic Trainer for the pump and CGM- walked in with a smile and asked me if I was ready. She took me back into an examining room, and had me get out the CGM sensor and transmitter, as well as the insertion device. She left the room to take a call from another patient. And left me staring a needle about an inch long inside of a rubber tube that was just a little shorter than the needle- and attached to the CGM. I started feeling weak.

She came back about ten minutes later, and saw my face. "Are you okay?" she asked, "Do you need some water?"

I must have been as white as a ghost (well whiter, because I already AM as white as a ghost.) I responded back with a quiet, "Yes, please." (Luckily, she didn't use the normal small little shot glasses they offer that are set up by the water jug in the waiting room.)

She went through everything. Fast. I understood everything, but no matter what, that needle could not be put off long ago. As I stood with the insertion device ready to begin, my fingers holding my belly skin taught, and her looking up at me counting to three, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed that button.

What it looked like and felt like, I'm sure were two different things. It was just a small needle, and I didn't jolt. But OMFG did it sting like a MOFO. I felt like I was in a slow motion action sequence in a movie. You know, the ones were the protagonist and antagonist are ending there scene of a big blow out fight and the protagonist takes out his last move with a dagger and shoves it into the antagonists mid section? I felt like slow motion a twelve inch blade went into my abdomen and I bent over in half, throwing my arms forwards, with blood spilling every where. But, that's not what happened.

I looked down, and it was bleeding for sure, but not a dagger like amount by any means. At that point, I did what a lot of people would have done seeing a decent amount of blood come out and feeling like I had been stabbed: I fainted. I woke up with two nurses and R standing over me, a rag on my forehead, and the fan on my face. They all smiled and asked if I was alright. I laughed.

"Sorry, I'm such a wimp." I said.

They reassured me it was fine and I was going to be okay.

I looked at the blood at the paper towel. It was the size of a dime. I am my fathers daughter, for sure. (He can't even watch someone else get a shot or IV or he passes out.)

We joked about how I should be used to seeing my own blood by now. But I'm not. I told R to take my diabetes away. She said she'd love to.

It stopped stinging about twenty minutes after. I think most of it was shock and my dramatic mind taking it somewhere it didn't need to be. But I lived.

And now, it is communication with my pump. I've only looked at the data twice since I inserted it. I'm sure I will get more obsessive about it, but I am going to try to remember it's just data and doesn't determine who I am or what I am doing is wrong or right.

I'm certainly not looking forward to changing it on Monday. That's going to be nerve racking for me. But I'll make it through. Like everything else.

It's not always fun taking care of my body with all this stuff. I am now almost $20K in medical debt. I wish I didn't have to pay it. I hate eating better (although I like feeling better.) I still miss smoking almost every day. But all of this has given me a pretty strong outlook. I'm feeling better every day. Something exciting is happening that I can't wait for. And other things are on the horizon that will be life-changing too.

But I'm trucking. And now I'm trucking with a little more awareness.

Pump, Pump, Pump, Pump it UP!

Monday morning, I woke up and got ready for my day. I wanted to get as much done as possible before I had to go in for my pump training at 1:00. After I ran to Ace Hardware, I decided to stop in to Panera for a late breakfast. I was very excited to get something delicious in my belly before everything I knew would change.

After I ordered, I sat down, by myself, and started my pre-eating routine. I took my blood sugar, I prepped my stomach with an alcohol pad, and I took my before meal shot of Humalog. As I began to take my first bite, a gentleman with a very warm smile wheeled his wheel chair over to me. I noticed he was missing his right foot. He looked at me and said, "Diabetes sucks, doesn't it?" "Yes it does, sir. Yes it does."

Panic set in. Tears started rolling. Although he was gentle, and very nice, that statement, accompanied with a missing limb, scared the living shit out of me.

Naturally, I started over-thinking. What if I can't get the pump in? What if my body doesn't take it? What if I hate it? Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this alone? I'm all alone. I'll always be all alone. I'm never going to be able to manage this. I'm never going to be able to do anything. I'm failing. Once again.

I spent the better part of the morning crying. I called my cousin. She helped a bit. But my mind was racing that while I was talking to her, I just drove around in circles for about ten minutes. Talked to my mom. She just basically told me I was fixing the problem not causing another one. (Rational Charli knew this already, but she wasn't all that present for the conversation.) Talked to Christine. She was the biggest help because she knew I knew I was being silly, but just needed to freak out a bit. Called Tim. Made him get out of work to come with me. He all but fell asleep in the doctors office as I sat quietly, trying to listen to every word I was being told.

The lady that was doing my pump training was very sweet. But of course, I nitpicked everything she said because she bashed Omnipod a little--another pump company that I tried this weekend via the JDRF and saline. She told too many stories. I get that in her many years of working with this company, she probably would know someone who could relate to every possible situation. But I didn't care to hear it.

My heartbeat was growing more rapidly as she went over all the things I went over in my online training tutorials. I just kept thinking about the needle and the tubing and being connected to something that wasn't waterproof. I thought about the pain and the inconvenience and having a battery die on me or my tubing get bubbles or my tube in my skin popping out. I thought about doing it wrong and not getting the insulin I needed. I thought about forgetting everything she said because I was thinking about everything else. I thought about giving Tim the stank eye for falling asleep in the corner. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to kick Tim. I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted a Diet Coke.

As she pulled my first set out of the box, my palms started sweating. I looked at it. As she gave me further instructions, I just wanted to skip past it and get it done. She made me stand up and sit down and stand up again. I just wanted this stupid thing done before I psyched myself out for all the pain and discomfort.

As I held the quickset against my skin, and pushed in the inserter, I took a deep breath. And exhaled. It was done. It was so easy and it didn't hurt at all! I was relieved, but annoyed for getting myself so worked up.

We left the office and got something to eat. I couldn't believe how convenient it was! I just pressed a few buttons and it was done. DONE. No prepping, no putting the needle on. No shot. No taking the needle off. No disposing properly of the needle. No putting away my quick pen. Although my anxiety was still high, I was so relieved.

I went to bed last night, exhausted and worn out. I slept until 4:30. Oops. I slept through the alarm at 2:30 when i was supposed to check my BSL. Oh well. Could be worse. My BSL was high. But not that high. And when I checked again at 6:30, it was lower than it has been at 6:30 am in weeks. My ten am BSL was even better.

I got to the kids this morning. I explained it to the two year old, who said, "Your medsin talks like my Mickey phone!" and "I want to help you!" When I was giving the girls their bath, I explained to Aubrey my medicine couldn't get wet, so she didn't splash this bath time. She's very sweet. The baby didn't rip out my tubing. I'm not sure she even realizes it was there. The dog sniffed my pump and walked away.

My BSL has been pretty much within range all day. And now my new little electronic borg is telling me I need to check again. Better do what it says!

112! Two hours after eating! I might still have some crazy times the next couple days getting used to it, but right now, it's pretty damn good.

I did it. I got a pump. And, now, I have better control over my health. I can do this.

Cause you make me feel...

If you've been reading this, see my Facebook, are following me on Twitter, or know me even just a little bit, you know that I am getting an insulin pump. Actually, I already have it. It's just not connected to me yet. That happens Monday. I still have not watched tutorials and I am fairly in the dark here. So everything that is going on, I have little to no knowledge about. I plan on re-blogging after I watch the tutorials tonight.

I am having a lot of mixed feelings about this bad boy. (That's pretty much what I've been calling that thing--bad boy. I will probably give it  human name once it is attached because I'm incredibly weird like that and if it has to be my pancreas, then dammit I'm going to treat it like a siamese twin.) Everyone keeps telling me I'm getting ready to have a better quality of life with it. And I believe them. But that doesn't change the fact I'm about to have something be attached to me for the rest of my life.

Scared: I'm frightened as all get out because it's a whole new lifestyle. What if I pass out trying to put it in? What if I do it wrong and end up horrible infected? What if I roll over on it at night and can't sleep? What if the baby pulls it out and it hurts? What if I look disgusting with it in that my husband won't want to touch me? What happens when I go on a float trip and have marks all over my body from it? What happens if I can't handle it?

Angry: I shouldn't have this disease. I definitely shouldn't have to deal with a pump that makes sure I can digest and break down food properly. I see a lot of people out there that I feel like are more deserving and who hurt themselves consistently, but they don't have these issues. I am pissed that people think I did this to myself. I am angry there is no cure.

Guilt: I feel crazy guilty about even considering wishing someone else had this besides me. I feel guilty when my blood sugars are too high or too low. I feel guilty that I am irritable to the people I care about the most. I feel guilt when I eat potatoes. Any kind. I feel guilt when I drink. I feel guilty the only reason I quit smoking is so I am less likely to lose a limb. I feel guilty that people think I gave myself this and then I get angry at their ignorance instead of kindly trying to educate them.

Sad: I am sad it takes me five minutes to start eating my food. I am sad my husband has to watch this disease destroy me some days. I am sad I have to ask for help some times. I am sad that there are so many wonderful people around me feeling helpless.

Happy: I am happy I have awesome support. Timmy-my loving husband, my parents, my sibs, my business partner/bff, my close friends, my lifelong friends and the DOC. I am happy I live in an age where there is advancing technology EVERY DAY! I am happy I don't have six inch needles and a vial to give me insulin. I'm happy no one put a sign around my neck that said "Don't feed me, I'm diabetic." (Funny, but I know someone who had this done to them, by a parent, in grade school.) I'm happy that I have a great Endocrinologist. I'm happy that I have a decent job. I am happy that I have pretty good insurance-even though we pay out the a$$ for it. I am happy I have tutorials, and online question forums, ask-a-nurse, an on-call doctor and a team of diabetes education experts who will help me when I have questions.

Worried: I am worried I'm never going to be able to pay for all this. I am worried my support system will fail. I am worried I will fail.

Excited: My life is about to change. And I made this change. I have come a long way since I have been diagnosed, both as a Type 2 (WRONG!) and then eventually a 1.5. I worked my butt off to be okay with this pump and now that I am emotionally ready, I think I'll be physically ready too.

I've been accused of having too many feelings. And that was before I was diagnosed. Now they are always there. Oh, well. Could be worse.